This is a sponsored post. I was paid a fee by New Look to write this post, although all words are my own.
Yesterday evening I had a catch up with my oldest friend – oldest as in the one I’ve known longest, not the one who has been on earth the longest. We don’t get to see each other nearly as much as we used to, or nearly as much as I’d like to, in fact between my job, the children, family commitments, her job, her social life (she has no kids, see, and therefore has a vibrant social life) and other commitments, we get to see each other maybe three times a year. But when we do manage to grab a couple of hours for a chat, it is like we’ve never been away.
We became friends twenty years ago, dithering below a basket, and bonding over a mutual dislike of netball. We were soon inseparable, sitting next to each other every lesson, spending evenings at each other’s house, sharing a love of music, alternative (ok, questionable) fashion, and cute trainers. We would write letters to each other and spend hours chatting on the phone after spending all day together at school (it was pre-internet and pre-mobile phone, no texting or instant messaging for us). We went to gigs together, went on holiday together, comforted one another when our delicate teenage hearts were broken, dyed each other’s hair black, and swooned over images of Eddie Vedder and Dave Grohl in the latest edition of Kerrang!
Those days might be twenty years ago but they seem like yesterday, and even though we have had fallings out and breaks in the friendship, periods of not seeing each other for huge stretches of time, even though we own our own homes, have careers and families and no longer dance up and down the kitchen to Stone Temple Pilots (at least I don’t), we are still friends. It’s a sign of a real friendship, I think, that we can go for so long without being involved in each other’s lives, yet when we meet up nothing has changed. Except the questionable fashion.