Nobody can expect to have the same friends for life. The relationship, however intense for a while will be disturbed by changing tastes, departures to remote places, boredom, quarrel or inertia.
Sarah and I were talking about this the other evening until it was time for Newsnight. The inquisitor was harrying a rather under-prepared spokesman to commit his department.
“When will you complete HS2? Will you live long enough to ride on it?”
Our phone rang. I didn’t recognise the number and thought it would be some Oriental spiv calling himself Kevin or Arthur, wanting to warn me that my Prime Account had been compromised. I knew how to deal with hackers so I took the call.
The caller said, “Jimmy here. How are you Pete?” I didn’t recognise the voice at first.
“ Jimmy McPhail, your old chess partner.”
Of course, Jimmy, old friend from 20 years ago when we’d looked after each other’s kids, dined and holidayed together as a foursome until he’d gone North and we’d lost touch. I asked him how he had found us. “With difficulty,” he said.
We talked for 30 mins; or rather I listened because that described conversation with Jimmy. He told us about his son in Australia; his daughter teaching in Glasgow; his new grandchild; his golf handicap, yoga and the successful sale of his business. He modestly added that he could concentrate on spending now. He took a kind of breather.
“And what about you two – what are you doing these days?”
Grinning at Sarah, I told him that in January I’d swum the Irish Sea to Dublin when I missed the ferry. Last week I’d climbed Everest without oxygen. And next week…
“So you’ve been pretty idle for a man of your age,” he said. “Pat and I are coming your way next week. We’re moving back to Dorset because Pat misses the sea– so you’ll need to polish your chess-board. We’ve sold-up in Halifax and we’re going to buy a house on the Esplanade. The seller’s being a bit greedy but I’ll wear him down. I’ll remind him it’s a cash deal and I can always walk away."
“Meet for a beer? Bring Sarah. Have dinner. What about the Kings Arms? Thursday evening at seven? Yes?”
“If I’ve finished the marathon in time,” I said, wondering if he’d heard ny brief contributions to our conversation.
We’d missed the best or worst of Newsnight so Sarah made some more coffee and we reminisced about the McPhails He loved to argue politics. Surrounded by left-wingers he would fight for the right. Put him in with business men, like him, and he would side with the mythical working man. He liked to say that he was a Gorbals lad whose parents got him educated out of their station. He’d worked himself lucky.
**
And now, we are sipping wine, admiring the sunset and waiting for the soup. Jimmy has aged little but well. Patricia looks as glamorous as ever. We stare at each other, making the usual assessments. I wonder what he thinks of us although I’m not sure I want his real opinion. I know he’ll be all-too-frank. I don’t expect Jimmy to mellow with age.
