Ivy is the the Sansa to my Arya, the Charlotte to my Miranda, the Thelma to my Louise and the Cagney to my Lacey … you get the picture. She used to be my very best friend. We met around 20 years ago when I joined a law firm that she was working at. I didn’t know it at the time but the office I was given on arrival there was the one that she had just been booted out of to make space for me. So on my first day, she greeted me through gritted teeth and with a noticeably frosty reception. Ivy does not like change at all and so when change was thrust upon her in this way, she did not take it well. She watched me settle in at her old desk, in her old office, while she settled into her new desk in the trial, open plan area that nobody wanted to be in. This office reallocation set the tone for my first couple of months with her. Luckily, her iciness thawed over time and Ivy began to realise that I was not the office-snatching villain she had labelled me as and, as a result, we eventually became friends.
I have reflected on the highs and lows that Ivy and I have been through together and our friendship is full of many good things. However, given the cold start to it, I was struggling to identify what the key catalyst was that played the most critical role in thawing out her initial, frosty approach. Was it support, strength, love, laughter and respect? Each of these are all abundant in our friendship. However, after some deep thinking, I realised it wasn’t quite as profound as that. It was far, far more basic. It was Gin. G&Ts on various department nights out after work. So, first came the G&T (the “T” in this case is for “Thawing”). . . and the friendship followed after that.
A year on, and many G&Ts later, Ivy and I became flatmates! I soon discovered she was one of those people (like my mama) that, despite having just the one head, needed 4 pillows and , inexplicably, at least 5 extra cushions of varying sizes and textures on her bed at any one time. All of which would be fluffed, puffed and placed with absolute precision every morning (and I would thoroughly enjoy annoying her by bashing them about a bit!) I remember on her first evening in the flat, I watched from the lounge as she cooked a light dinner in our shared kitchen. . . an omelette. With the same dedication that she applied to her mountain of bed cushions, she diligently got set up “mise en place” with 2 eggs on the counter, a little pile of chopped, red pepper, some chopped ham, some grated cheese and salt & pepper mills at the ready… all super tidy and organised (very opposite to me.) I remember thinking how great it was that I was living with such a culinary expert and that she looked like a tv chef because of how perfectly set out everything was. Just as I had that thought, her facial expression began to change to one of mild confusion and she then uttered the words, “Just remind me, how do you make an omelette again?” (?!?!?!) I tease her about this fairly often but Ivy maintains that she did in fact know how to cook an omelette but was just disorientated by the new kitchen! After a few years of wonderful flat-sharing, she moved into her own place and, very quickly had her new bed and new sofa groaning under the weight of 101 cushions.
For what Ivy slightly lacked in the kitchen (in those days), she more than made up for at work and she now has a very serious and grown up job. Thankfully, she still has the silliest sense of humour and our friendship was quickly glued together by this. We also share a love of great food and have enjoyed some wonderful meals (home cooked and in restaurants) over the years - one of which is one of my favourite meals of all time and which I will certainly write about in a later post. We also both have a “signature dish” that we make for each other from time to time knowing that it will be devoured with appreciative enthusiasm. She makes the most deeeeelish “spag bol” (or as the more fancy types would say , “pasta with a slow cooked lamb ragu”) and I make a prawn & pea risotto (pictured) with lots of lemon zest, fresh mint and lashings of really good extra virgin olive oil (based on an early Jamie Oliver recipe) which I know she absolutely loves… so much so, that I now don’t feel I could make it for anyone else without feeling like I had committed an act of culinary betrayal.
As I said, she used to be what I would describe as a “best friend.” Not so much now though. Times change and , inevitably, so do friendships. Ice Queen Ivy stopped being my best friend years ago. I read a saying recently which says, “There are friends. There is family. Then there are the friends that become family” - and Ivy has proved that last sentence to be very true and is "Framily." I am so fortunate to have her in my life and I hope we have many decades to come full of belly-laughs and G&Ts… the only things we’ll have to agree to disagree on are the point (or pointlessness) of decorative cushions and that she had any idea how to make that omlette all those years ago!
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