I have never had many close friends. I count several people as true friends, but there are very few who are long-standing. In my experience, friendships grow and wane over time, but I don’t view this as a problem, just a fact. By definition, a friendship must be a two-way thing, and if I’m guilty of letting a friendship diminish, equally so is the other person.
The friendship that I feel most bad about is with Dave Coxhead whom I have known since secondary school. We maintained our friendship throughout early adulthood, and indeed, we stood as best man at each other’s weddings. It was around the time of David’s wedding in 1985 that I realised that our common interests were becoming fewer. David was always rather secretive, and it was typical of him that in early January 1985 he asked Geraldine and me to keep 23rd March free but declined to say why. A few weeks later, as we’d guessed, David confirmed that this was to be his wedding day, and then asked me whether I would like to act as official photographer or car driver for the day. I didn’t particularly want to do either, and told him as much. A month later, David then asked me if I would be his best man. I asked him to check that this would be acceptable to his two younger brothers, but he told me, yes, they were fine about it, and so I agreed. We went to a wedding rehearsal a couple of days prior to the wedding and this was the first time we’d seen his bride-to-be, Pauline, for 7 months. You may gather from this that by now the four of us were not the closest of buddies.
The relationship with Pauline seemed to be key, or rather, her relationship with Geraldine. I felt that there was an underlying issue that was never addressed throughout the 15 years we knew each other. We first met Pauline in autumn of 1980 just before Gee returned to university, and our relationship developed from there. I always found Pauline to be very friendly and almost a bit flirty with me, but I now know that the relationship between Geraldine and Pauline was never as close, although I’m not sure why. The relationship between the four of us continued for several more years although there was often an underlying atmosphere but no one ever mentioned it, and nothing was ever brought to a head. We even went on weekends away, which David and I enjoyed, but I don’t think Geraldine did, and neither, perhaps, did Pauline.
We lost all contact (apart from Christmas cards) from around 1995 after our children were born, and David and Pauline were about to start a family. David and I occasionally came across each other at Scouting events in the early noughties, but the close bond had gone. By then we were just associates who once knew one another.
I first met Neil Gregory when we each started at ROF as apprentices, and Neil is now my oldest friend, even though we don’t see each other that often, perhaps four or five times per year. I met Linda, Neil’s wife, a few months before they were married, and the four of us get on very well together, in a relaxed way. There is no sense of competition amongst us (who has the newest car, biggest house, takes the most expensive holiday etc.), since we have led quite different lives and hold different priorities. It’s perhaps because of this we remain very comfortable in each other’s company. Neil and Linda were married in 1980 and their two boys were born within two years. Consequently, when they were dealing with nappies and nurseries, we were having a great time with foreign holidays, weekends away and new cars. The tables were turned, as we knew they would, in 1992 when we started our own family, and Neil and Linda’s children were approaching their teenage years.
Our current relationship takes the form of regular meals at each other’s houses. We rarely go to restaurants or meet on other occasions but since Linda, Neil and Geraldine are all excellent cooks, this arrangement suits us, and we thoroughly enjoy the infrequent evenings to catch up on all our news. The great thing is that none of us feels awkward, and even if many months have passed, the conversation simply picks up where we left it.
I have always found myself more at ease in female company than male. When I was at secondary school, my attitude to adhering to male stereotypes (or not, in my case) led to some name calling about being gay – different words were used, since at that time I don’t think the word ‘gay’ meant what it does now. This was nothing serious, and could never be classed as bullying, but I still find it odd that a boy who enjoyed being with the girls (as I did) could be considered homosexual. I didn’t want to be a girl: I simply enjoyed their company because they were female and I was attracted to them. How is this not considered the very definition of maleness?
As an adult, I never really enjoyed or fitted in with blokey activities such as drinking and football. I enjoyed a drink, but derived no enjoyment in getting drunk. I have never enjoyed stag nights and I did all I could to avoid going on one. If I did ever go, I’d drop out after a few pubs and find my own way home, and hope that no-one missed me. Just to explain, stag nights in the 1970s and 1980s were usually simple affairs and involved going on a pub crawl in a local town. Very occasionally, they included visiting a nightclub at the end, but I usually managed to avoid such attendance. There were some that I couldn’t avoid, and one (I think it was Neil’s) included a coach trip from Chorley to Wigan, drinks around town followed by a nightclub. I fell asleep in the nightclub, and someone kindly woke me up and steered me to the coach which took me home to Chorley. I recall walking home from Chorley (2½ miles) at about four in the morning, which probably helped me to sober up. By the time I got married, it had started to be fashionable to hold the stag party a week before the wedding rather than the night before, which was a good thing. I had a stag night round Chorley a week before my wedding with a group of men, but had a far better time the night before when I went out with my friends who were couples.
One of Geraldine’s closest friends was actually my friend initially. Elizabeth Rowlandson started work at British Aerospace a couple of years after me, and from the outset, we got on really well, through holding a similar outlook on life. We were both keen ‘people-watchers’ and would pass comment on the characters we saw around the office. Our views and tastes would often align, and when we realised that we had a mutual interest in gardens, I invited Liz round to our house, and was pleased to find that Gee and Liz struck a friendship very quickly. The three of us went on many day trips and holidays together, and we are still very good friends today.
One of my closest friends is a work colleague whom I first met in 1997. Sharon Birchall is originally from Essex and she moved north to be with her boyfriend (now her husband) who is from Hesketh Bank. She took a job at British Aerospace and I worked with her on graduate recruitment for a few months. We got on well, and although I don’t think that we considered each other as friends at that time, I enjoyed her company, partly because she was so different to me. Our paths diverged, as they often do in business, and it was several years later in 2005 when I advertised a vacancy in my team and Sharon applied and got the job. Since we had last worked together, she had started a family and we quickly realised that we complemented each other very well, and soon became firm friends and confidantes. I felt that I could tell Sharon anything, and get a sympathetic ear, although if she thought I was wrong about something, she would certainly tell me. When we first began to work together, she was going through a difficult time with her two-year-old girl, and we would discuss the issues and try to find solutions. I had dealt with similar concerns a decade earlier, so being able to talk about things helped which is sometimes all that’s required. Similarly, Sharon would offer me advice on how I ought to deal with my teenage daughter, and could bring a different perspective to the situation. I’ve lately realised that Sharon and Emily are very similar in character, and so this advice proved very useful.
Although the jobs we both do have changed over time, we have now been together as a team for over eleven years. Over that time, we have become inseparable, and people now see us as a partnership. When people refer to us, it is as though we are no longer individuals, but rather we are considered a matching set. We recently realised that we even have our own ‘sides’ at the desks: I have always sat on Sharon’s right throughout the time we’ve worked together, and this has been maintained over perhaps five office moves. Nowadays, we work closely with young people, and we are seen as the apprentices’ mum and dad. We even refer to each other as our work wife or work hubby. It will be a sad day for me when we go our separate ways, although as I approach retirement and Sharon is almost ten years my junior, it must happen soon.
I believe that opposites attract, and with Sharon, this appears very true. We come from dissimilar backgrounds, and have very different outlooks on life, yet we still get on. Over the years we’ve developed a trust between us such that either of us can confide in the other on any subject knowing that we won’t be laughed at or our secrets divulged. Listening to Sharon talk, however, I feel that I am very like her husband, which might account for a lot. I have learned things about Sharon long before her husband knew, and I probably still know things that he doesn’t. Her secrets will remain safe, however. I recently read a definition of a true friend: a true friend is someone who knows enough about you to blackmail you, but chooses not to. Wonderful!
Oddly enough, since Sharon is keen to keep her work and home life separate, we have never been friends outside work. Geraldine has met Sharon a couple of times, and I have met Mark (Sharon’s husband) occasionally, but that’s all.
I don’t often see the need to regularly keep in touch with people, which I perceive as a problem of mine. I’m delighted when people call me, but I rarely make the effort to call them. I am content being on my own and I appreciate solitude, although I do recognise that I need to share happy events. Seeing a beautiful sunset is not the same on your own, and for this reason, I accept that I do require some element of company. I never call my brothers and sisters just for a chat: I’d never know what to say, but when we get together, we can talk easily enough. I think that this might be part of the Kellett character, because, they never call me, either, so there is no awkwardness. We live in a small cul-de-sac and when we had trouble with one neighbour (who has since moved house), a small group of four couples got together to share our concerns. We did this over drinks, and it quickly became a social occasion. Geraldine then invited everyone round for a meal which was a great success, and then another couple returned the gesture. These meals were soon expanded to include a fifth couple who also lived in the same area, and the ten of us still get together every three or four months for a meal, each taking turns to host the evening. We go to the local pub for our Christmas meal rather than any couple cooking for everyone. This has been happening for perhaps seven years now, and even though one couple has moved away, they still come back for what we call the Smithy Close Meal. It also has another name, which is not quite so polite; one of the men jokingly referred to it as the Brindle Love-in, and the name stuck. We occasionally find ourselves explaining to outsiders that the name doesn’t mean what they perhaps think, but they rarely believe us. It’s fun having a reputation, however, even though it is completely unfounded. (Of course, you would say that, I hear you mutter)
