The likelihood of a 50-years-and-still-going-strong friendship that spans generations is low – but, equally, it’s possible, writes Alex Watson.
If any photos of Dave and Tim when they were flatmates in the 1970s exist, I’ve never seen them. When they tell stories about that time, I just picture them living on the set of The Young Ones.
I like the one about eating Arctic roll for breakfast, and the one where they found tiny mouse footprints in the frying pan.
But my favourite is the claim that, every Saturday night, after a few beers, the lads would gleefully pinch the same street sign and triumphantly bring it home as a trophy. And, every Sunday morning, screwdriver in hand, Tim would dutifully return it.
I’m certain there are many more tales (less suitable for once little ears) that I’ve never heard. Older now than Dave and Tim were then, I think about some of my own fantastic, funny, entirely inappropriate past escapades with friends, and know I’ll never share most of them with any of our kids.
It’s like that great line poet Maggie Smith wrote: “Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children.”
You see, Dave is my dad. He and Tim aren’t flatmates anymore, but they’ve been friends for just about 50 years now.
50 years of celebration and sadness
I’ve never given that fundamental friendship – one which laid the foundations for a whole host of others – much thought before. But it’s astounding to think about the celebration and sadness they’ve seen, standing shoulder to shoulder.
In that time, they’ve both moved house and even country, had children, changed jobs, lost parents. So many weddings, funerals, birthdays, babies, trips and tribulations.
We four kids (Dave and Tim’s kids) grew up together – a bond so ingrained that, even if a year or more went by between visits, it felt like we’d never been apart. We’ve kept on growing together, too. Now there are spouses in the mix, and the kids have kids.
Independent of our parents, we go on our own holidays, have our own in-jokes and make our own memories. All because of two guys who lived together for a while at uni.
It wasn’t chance that kept us all together
I’ve reached the age where my own pals are moving houses and countries, having babies, and where the natural ebb and flow of life sometimes makes me worry that we’ll lose touch. I know the likelihood of a 50-years-and-still-going-strong friendship is low – but, equally, I know it’s possible. I’ve witnessed it.
So, what’s the secret?
Now that I’m one of the grown-ups, I see that it wasn’t luck or good fortune that kept Dave and Tim and their families in touch; now I understand the enormous amount of effort my parents and their friends put in.
Those efforts have resulted in a remarkable, generation-spanning connection. It’s the reason I know that you don’t have to be related to someone for them to feel like family
Getting us all in one place always involved a lengthy drive, often a ferry crossing, sometimes a long-haul flight. Not to mention making sure to phone (before group chats or even email existed), remembering birthdays, and creating an atmosphere where the physical distance between us didn’t matter. Honestly, they made it look easy.
I’m so grateful for all of it. Those efforts have resulted in a remarkable, generation-spanning connection. It’s the reason I know that you don’t have to be related to someone for them to feel like family.
Grow old with the people who knew you when you were young
The whole thing sounds very serious and sombre, doesn’t it? Dave and Tim would want me to assure you that it isn’t. You see, the best part about making your friends your family is that, for the most part, you have a lot of fun.
I may not have any photos to look at, but when Dave and Tim get together, even now, I see a glimpse of who they were decades ago – a spark of silliness and spontaneity that transforms them back into 20-somethings. And doesn’t everyone deserve to feel that way, now and again?
It’s like that great line my columnist hero Mary Schmich wrote: “The older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.”
In 50 years, I hope I’m lucky enough to reminisce about my entirely inappropriate past escapades with some of the people who were there. I hope there are plenty of adventures still to come for us.
I’ve had the honour of holding some of my friends’ children at just days old, of cheering them on as they hit early milestones, and I would love nothing more than to be there for them consistently throughout their lives, like Tim and his wife, Shelagh, have been for me.
I’ve written before about the importance of fighting for friendships that matter, never realising that I had a shining example right in front of me.
And Dave and Tim? As I write this, they’re hanging out, preparing to see the New Year in together. If any street signs go walkabout, you didn’t hear that story from me.
Alex Watson is Head of Comment for The Press & Journal and, sadly, has never eaten Arctic roll for breakfast
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