Absence and Friends

Hello! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? But yesterday was the first day that felt like Spring might be on the way (it isn’t, it tricked me, today all is cold and grey and pissing wet again) and it seemed like an apt time for a new beginning and revival of this Substack.

I haven’t been entirely idle in my absence- since I last posted here, I have written another two books- a sequel to Lila Mackay Is Very Misunderstood, called Lila MacKay Finds Life Very Unfair and a new adult novel, title still to be decided- and got another puppy- a Border terrier obviously, one must stay on brand. So now I have three of the little sods, with the advent of the adorable, wicked, jolly and frequently entirely bonkers Eddy. He is the sweetest pup in the world, and also the most deranged- yesterday he tried to fight a sycamore tree that he felt had ‘looked at him funny’.

Eddy, helpfully sitting on poor Bob.

And I have made some new friends, which is always an astonishing and joyous thing to happen, especially at my age! I didn’t think, when I started a Facebook blog ten years ago to mainly moan about the trials and tribulations of parenting, that anything would come of it. I certainly didn’t think ten novels would result, or all the wonderful new people I have been lucky enough to meet over the years- not least Jo of The Perimenopaws. And to be honest, most of the new friends recently have been down to taking a leaf out of Jo’s book and being a lot braver and more proactive than I usually am.

Before Christmas, Sara Sheridan, who writes wonderful historical fiction, invited me to a Christmas party for ‘West Coast Women Writers’. Thrilled to be asked, but terrified everyone else would dreadfully highbrow and intellectual and look down their noses at me, and utterly convinced I would have to pass some sort of literary test where they quizzed me on Important and Serious Books and I immediately forgot the plot of every book I had ever read except for my secret shame of the time I read all my daughter’s Twilight books, till they went even more weird and creepy than they’d started out, I nonetheless went along, fully prepared to be mocked and cast out into the cold December streets like the Little Match Girl. Only with the Uber app on my phone so I didn’t have to sit in a doorway striking matches until I died.

I hovered at first, because everyone seemed to know each other, but then I thought ‘What would Jo do?’ Jo would be straight in there introducing herself and having no qualms about imposter syndrome whatsoever. So that is what I did, and everyone was divine, and didn’t actually all know each other, and some of us decided to keep in touch, and it turned out we had all been terrified everyone else was going to be terribly clever and grand and the most literary people to ever be literary. So now I have some nice writer friends in Glasgow, which is wonderful, as publishing is not really like other industries and so it can be hard to explain to other people with normal jobs.

And then last week I went to London, for Jilly Cooper’s memorial service, which I’m sure if you have any interest in Jilly, you will have already read about elsewhere, so I won’t bore you with the details again, except to say that it was sad, but also glorious, and yes, there were lashings of gorgeous champagne served as soon as the service was over.

I had gone along, knowing no one, and spent the time before the service started trying not to gawp at all the celebrities and pretend one saw such people all the time, and wondering if I needed another wee before things started but also I had quite a good seat that I didn’t want to lose, and I was terrified if I nipped to the loo, I would somehow mistime my return and collide spectacularly with the Queen or something equally appalling (which would have been a bit like something from one of Jilly’s novels, except if it was in a novel, the handsome hero would fall in love with me for my clumsy ways, whereas in real life I’d probably be sent to the Tower). I managed to avoid any royal faux pas, and the Queen looked wonderful and her detective was rather dishy, which was a very impure thought to have in a House Of God, and I cried quite a lot (over the music and the readings and the prayers, not the dishy detective!) and then it was all over, and the charming old gentleman next to me, who had very politely made small talk, handed me a glass of champagne and wandered off, and I thought ‘Oh Good Lord, I am going to have to down this and flee, for I know not a soul, and everyone is terribly glamourous and I’m wearing a blouse from Vinted’.

The lady in front of me also seemed to be on her own though, and she caught my eye and smiled and I smiled back, and we asked each other how we’d known Jilly. She had been at school with Jilly’s son, and they used to sneak out and go clubbing together. And then- we just hit it off. Maybe it was because she seemed like she had been as errant as me in her youth-I was eternally cited as a Bad Influence by my friends’ parents and blamed for everything, with a particularly memorable moment being my headmistress informing me I was seen as a ‘rebel leader by the junior school’ for the crime of wearing my woolly green socks (so sexy, I’m sure our uniforms were specifically designed with the aim of thwarting seedy men’s schoolgirl fantasies) around my ankles instead of pulled up to my knees. My new friend was definitely giving ‘Bad Influence’ vibes.

We wandered the cathedral, star spotting, enthusiastically accepting all the champagne refills, swapping gossip and generally being just a tiny bit naughty. And eventually, having thought I would have a few sips of my champagne and then probably, regretfully, have to sidle out on account of having no one to talk to, I tottered out of the cathedral at 2.15pm, to meet my former editor (and now friend) for a 2pm lunch.

My new friend and I decided to keep in touch, and the next day, another friend being very late to meet me, I realised I was walking past her hotel, so we met for coffee (we did toy with champagne but decided we had been a little too enthusiastic the day before and perhaps should be sensible- at least till the sun was over the yard arm).

The most blissful thing about this new friend though, is that it feels like I said goodbye to one naughty, glorious effervescent friend- and found another. Almost as though Jilly meant us to find each other. I hope she is up there somewhere, looking on in delight at the ripples of joy her life is still spreading for so many people- especially those of us lucky enough to know her. I think that would be the perfect legacy for someone who lived so fully, and cherished and valued so many friendships with so many people.

So if, like me, you sometimes hover at parties, shy and anxious, worried what to say, or what people might think- sod it. Be brave. Say hello and start talking and you never know what might happen…