Old friends, new memories.

Old friends, new memories.

By Ollie.

So, my friends are coming up to stay with me this weekend. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t stressed. Sure, I’m excited to see them. But now my brain has a legitimate excuse to over plan and obsess over what we’re going to do, where we’re going to go and how it’s going to feel. This being a trait passed onto me from my Mum, a shared love language of micro-managing and condensing the element of fun into a quantifiable, mathematical equation. Therefore, as it’s now my turn to host, I’m thinking up recipes, day trips, sleeping arrangements. I’ve managed to just about colour code and allot a time slot to every activity from dinner to breathing.

With the girls coming up to see me, it’s got me thinking about old friends and the feeling of time having passed and life having changed but the dynamic remaining the same. F always the elegant listener, who doesn’t give herself nearly enough credit for how cool she is (like a true cool person) and G bursting with energy and story after story keeping us both entertained. With me somewhere cynically thrown in the middle. We first met in our second year of university as strangers and quickly became good friends. Despite a lot of what we talk about pertaining to the memories of Uni and of us living together, it’s not that part of our friendship which interests me much. But the trio post Uni. How it has now been almost 2 years since graduation, and 4 since being flatmates. But we still always make the effort to have our yearly catch up, living hundreds of miles away instead of a door opposite a hallway.

I was never one for having long term friends, given that I was a shy kid who wanted desperately to break away from his surroundings and be whisked off somewhere nicer and more interesting. But I must admit, it’s a nice feeling to have seen people in different stages of their lives. G's funky neon blue and pink hair has now been replaced by chic brown layers and a wispy fringe, exaggerating her beauty and making her look older and more mature. F in a long-term relationship with a really nice guy who loves her for just being her and seeing the couple they’ve formed together. And then there’s me in my nice new flat that I can’t wait to show off. Life has caused us to drift apart, but a shared commitment to friendship keeps us grounded.

Hanging out with the girls feels like no time at all has passed. Whilst jobs have changed, bills have been introduced and a newfound adulthood we have had to accept. Laughing with my friends and retelling stories from so long ago still doesn’t fail to entertain me. I can guarantee that as soon as they get off the train at the station, it won’t be the 20 something-year-old working full time me that greets them, who enjoys swimming at his local leisure centre and a good cup of tea and a biscuit before bed. But the 19-year-old stoner who dabbles in drag and hasn’t got a care in the world about his future. Sitting on my new couch in my grown-up home will be like hanging out on our old crummy sofa, with our tiny TV and dirty coffee table covered in stains. Going out for food, replaced by memories of inhaling a takeaway whilst faded watching old movies. And so that is what I will look forward to the most. The ease of our friendship and the memory of a simpler time.

I know I tend to write like a 50-year-old reminiscing about their long and dangerous life, but already it seems apparent to me just how fast life moves as you get older, and how intentional it seems to keep friends in your life. Because it is far easier to allow those bridges to collapse.

I look forward to making new memories, and for the feeling of satisfaction as my hard work is paid off, even if I have to laugh at my own crazy expense. To have a handful of photos, a couple of drunk nights and endless conversations on the sunny grass is worth far greater than a couple of quid leaving my bank account and some extra laundry than usual to do.

Thank you to my friends, to those who have stuck by me, and continue to see the good in me when I often feel like I can’t see it in myself. I might not always say it, but I love you all and you enrich my life so much by just allowing me to share it.

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