Friends you can take a risk with

 David and Carolyn are Pascoe’s godparents.  When we lived in the North East we saw them every week.  Now we live hundreds of miles apart, but still see them a couple of treasured times each year.

We wanted to take them to the Odyssey, our wonderful local independent cinema, but the choice was a predictable Rom Com, OR ‘Beau is afraid’  - a psychedelic journey of weirdness concerning the painful relationship between a man and his mother. 

We chose the latter and at the end of the three-hour film, another audience member said loudly ‘Well that wasn’t worth staying up late for!’

But the four of us found ourselves returning to ‘What did it all mean?’ throughout the weekend.  We certainly got our money’s worth.

On Saturday, we met the twins in London.  They wanted to go to ‘Healing King Herod’, a show previewing before the Edinburgh Fringe at the Soho Theatre.

‘King Herod, famed for his Massacre of the Innocents, now leads a self-development pyramid scheme. Ancient soldiers become modern clients in an interactive, drag-clown therapy session.’

I didn’t even know there was a genre called drag clown. 

After a little hesitation, we all went along and raised the average age of the audience considerably. 

The show did end with the star, Riss Obolensky wearing nothing but a nappy and rolling on the ground smeared all-over with jam, but it certainly made us laugh and Obolensky managed to pack her weirdness into one hour, which was certainly a better decision than three!

But the best thing about both shows was going along with friends who are up for something a bit different.

 

 

 

A flock of one's own

For years I have met my friends every two to three weeks for a walk.  We have it in common that we like to tramp along a footpath and spot interesting features of nature, geology or archaeology.  One of the tenets of our friendship is that we hugely prefer this to shopping or meeting for coffee in the town centre.

Over the Covid period, we would travel in separate cars rather than risk infecting one another, so it was greener to stay close to home.  Our adventures were curtailed, and we beat the same dull muddy bounds again and again.

Over the last few months, however, we’ve started to bundle into one car and go a little further and see a little more.

Recent highlights include a spectacular sunset murmuration of jackdaws, rooks and crows near Wimpole Hall, and a flock of hundreds of fieldfares and redwing devouring ivy berries in a hedgerow near Hitchin.  We also stood in slow-breathing silence as a goldcrest hunted insects on hazel twigs just in front of our noses. 

Last Friday, we spent some time simply puzzling over the curious ice structures which had formed in puddles on a track.  Now that’s my kind of girls’ day out!

Why they decided not to shoot Friends in Truro

I always longed for untameable corkscrew ringlets. But my hair is just sort of medium-curly.

However, I have noticed that I'm definitely curlier in Cornwall.

The humidity and frequent mizzle are a delight for mosses and fungi.
And for my hair.

But this brings me to my main point.

This was the main reason why they decided not to shoot the hit comedy show Friends in Cornwall after all.

It is likely that the first attempt to film the series Friends took place in Truro (the glittering metropolis).

Every day the glamorous set would be ready – a flat in an ex-warehouse overlooking the Truro River.  Phoebe, Joey etc would be standing around bantering about the tourist traffic on the A30. Ross would be waiting for Rachel to arrive with an armful of scones for a proper cream tea (jam first). 

But where would Rachel be?

At length somebody would go to find her and she would finally arrive. She would be crying but it would be hard to see the tears as her head would be surrounded by a cloud of magnificent curls.

“My hair,” she would sob, “It just won’t stay straight.”

So it is purely down to Jennifer Aniston’s unreasonable attitude to curly hair that the whole show had to be moved to New York.

A sad loss.

Just think how much better Friends would have been if Central Perk had served pasties.

Tapir

Mark and Adri were coming to lunch with their offspring, Thea and Ben.

Adri texted, “What would you like us to bring?”

My fingers hovered over the key pad.

The designated reply, in accordance with Middle Class Politeness is

“Just bring yourselves.”

On receiving it, Adri and Mark would scratch their heads and probably resort to flowers.

All seemed so dull.

I found myself typing,

“I have always particularly wanted my own tapir.”

ADRI:  “That may be difficult to arrange at such short notice.”

ME:     “You are crap guests.”

In fact, they thoughtfully brought a clematis to cover up our unsightly exposed fence.

But then, a week later, a package arrived by post.

I had ordered nothing and could not think what it might be.

Inside was a beautifully carved and painted wooden tapir.

Adri and Mark, thank you so much.

And particularly thank you for not sending a live specimen.  I understand caring for them can be ...tricky.