Today was a cool and murky Tuesday in Leeds. My normal day would have had me spending time writing - I currently have a short story to finish for Thursday, and a second-draft novel to edit.
But today I had a day off to visit my friend S who lives in a semi rural village a forty minute bus ride away. Factor in a twenty minute walk, and you don't need telling she's a very dear friend; I wouldn't go to all that trouble for just a casual acquaintance...
Besides which, she makes an excellent Sweet Potato and Lamb stew.
There was also her dog. We have this little game going; Dog pretends to be scared of me, I pretend I don't care if Dog hates me or not. Within minutes, Dog remembers I'm her Best Friend Ever... until I go home and then come back, by which time I've been relegate back to the ranks of Evil Human again.
S isn't my only friend; I consider myself very fortunate in that respect. I have a little nucleus of writer friends; we meet up a couple of times a month - and several former work colleagues with whom I have lunch, or visit, or have visit me. They are all very different characters, and if I put them in a room together, I'm not sure if the result would be Best Party Ever or a disaster movie... it never ceases to surprise me how one individual can be part of friendships to into many different lives.
Friends are a blessing.
Friends who cook for me, doubly so.
You know who you are...
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