Spoiled Rotten...

Trick or Treats... 

It isn't every day that a girl of advancing years can knock on the door of a young talented writer and award winning playwright and be treated to a breakfast of smoked salmon, jams, breads and croissants, whilst his partner is hard at work.  "Come into my Bedouin tent" or similar, were the words that greeted me. At the bottom of the garden stood an octagonal tent fit for a sheik. Equipped with the 3 S's, self sufficiency and summer, every need, well almost, has been taken into account and catered for, including the lighting; I wouldn't expect anything less as Graham is a whiz with all matter of things electrical and what he cannot do with his conduit isn't worth bothering with.  The non-organic apple I brought for my god dog, was tossed in the air like a ball and it is fair to say that anything non-organic is of little interest... the result? a glossy coat that is silky and sleek - let this be a lesson to us all.

Our Saturday breakfasts are treasured, when Graham can join us he does and it is a delight, but relaxing in the company of a writing soul mate is a luxury of indulgent proportions. Friendships are, or should be, about equality, trust and honesty and whilst we could occasionally be accused of a love-in, it is usually short lived as we both understand the need to be critical about behaviours in life as well as about our writing, so truthful feedback wins every time, born out of respect for each other as a wordsmith and friend. Talking through ideas for stories, novels or plays are like a mental workout, the energy James generates is infectious and whenever I reflect on what he has done or is about to do, I feel ashamed that I have more freelance time yet generate considerably less, both in quality and volume.

Invariably, we exchange real life episodes of a day in the life of the last month, a tribute to that wonderful film 'Crush' and the gag sad F**k of the week.  When forced to, I recall or retell some incident from my autobiography 'Rosie moments', yet to be written of course, but will include such events as 'Robins Breast Drip Trays', 'Frequent Lactose Intolerance', 'My daughter's schools orchestral weekend and I got to have the drug addict to stay, yes, the very weekend the school guinea pig chose to commit Harri Kari whilst in our care', 'The scenic journey through Dorset with an unfolding commentary on the history of Rook Pie, ably given by our chauffeur which made us late for a function' ... and the like... 

I left with dates in my diary:  an invite to watch 'The Young Victoria' in the Bedoin tent, The BSO proms in the park our annual ritual together with champagne and canapes lording it up, and Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.  Good friends, lots of laughs, these will be the memories I shall keep long into the future when I am rocking in my chair in the nursing home... God and a lot of luck willing...

Go hug a friend...