It has been a very quiet weekend here in old London town. Nigel was due to visit but was held up on business, Dorothy and Angela had gone on a last minute trip to Paris, and Dorchester seems to have taken to his bed. Even Dasher and Cambridge were out of town, although I am not sure where or why. In the end, I spent most of the weekend at the Club, but with mainly just the old guard for company, it just wasn’t the same.
I like to think of myself as a fairly independent person, someone who can manage very well alone. But this weekend I have begun to realise just how much I do rely on my friends. But I suppose that we all do. Friends are a very important of who we are. And like too many things in life, it is more about quality than quantity. I may not have any experience of social media, but I am aware of its impact on young people and the obsession with having as many friends and followers as possible. I don’t hold with all this idea that you can collect friends online like some people collect stamps. Real friends are much more important. Just how important one doesn’t always realise until they are not around.
Talking about how important friends can be, this morning I made a little time to call my friend Hope and invite her to join me for lunch one day this week. I am delighted to say that she has agreed to meet me on Thursday when I have finished at the office. I am particularly pleased as I would like to ask her to join my little gathering at the old family homestead over Christmas. I am aware that she may already have made arrangements, but faint heart and all that.
It was only a very short conversation but a very welcome one. I find it quite strange just how much I have come to value her friendship and her opinions. I also get along very well with young Charlotte, but have yet to meet her older daughter; I think her name is Emily, but I may be wrong.
Dorothy and Angela will be back from Paris tomorrow so things will get back to normal. Or at least, the kind of normal that I have got used to.