Reading · Failings of a Female Founder

When I was about 12 years old, my mum forced me to be friends with a girl who lived in a pub down the road from where my uncle lived. We were big into pub culture as a family. My dad owned a pub, and that’s where he met my mum, 11 years his junior. They had me, didn’t stay together, but remained friends. I think best friends, until the day he died.

My mum worked in pubs owned by my dad for 20 years. Until he got the pub repossessed and she decided to retrain in a new career (which I always found very impressive – but maybe haven’t told her – I should).

I was brought up being taken to pubs, then ended up working in many myself too. At one point I was working in 4 at a time – a shot bar owned by my dad, a sports pub owned by my dad, a late night bar and another one owned by someone else – it all blurs into one at this point. I just remember it involved lots of late nights, lots of drinking, and lots of fun, more often than not involving my best friend.

When I was a child we’d go to my uncle’s favourite pub a lot – often to watch Arsenal play as it felt like an unofficial supporters club.

My mum was keen for me to make friends with the owner’s daughter. All I’d heard about her was that she’d fed my cousin dog biscuits – I didn’t know whether to be impressed or intimidated (I loved him, but he could be annoying). She didn’t seem that keen on me. But eventually, we gave in, probably after the promise of a McDonalds ice cream sundae, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

My best friends not like your best friend. Everyone thinks that, that’s why best friendship is so special. But also in my case, this is true.

My best friend is always the funniest person in any room. That’s universally agreed – not just by me – if you met her, you’d agree too. She can’t help it.

She has a unique gift to be able to let you know she cares about you deeply, but in just a few words. It could be a short WhatsApp, meme, or casually said comment, always without being dramatic or going on about something in any depth. It’s what I need, and it’s what I like. I don’t want to dwell either.

We’ve fallen out twice in just under 30 years. One girl related, one boy related. I was washing up in my dad’s pub when her mum came in and told me she couldn’t listen to REM’s “everybody hurts” any more times and we had to make it up. The amount of times she’s supported me in contrast is countless.

It’s the perfect kind of friendship. One that doesn’t take anything from me, doesn’t expect anything from me, yet is always there if I need it.

My eldest son is 8 and I realised that I was only 4 years older than that when I met my person. That feels like such a lucky thing to happen.

Like most best friends we’ve been on a lot of holidays, nights out, and general mischief together. And she still brings that side of me out now – in a way that only someone who has known you for that long can.

We’ve both changed over the years. In some ways I feel we’ve role reversed. I’ve become more laid back about certain things where she’s become more intense. She’s still funnier than me, stronger than me, I’m definitely still more anxious. We’ve both pursued different passions, but we’ll always come back together. Because it’s true love.

My mum didn’t realise when she was introducing me to my best friend, that she was giving me one of the greatest gifts of my life. As she’s turning 40, and it’s not very like me to show PDA, I thought I’d dedicate this to her and explain just how grateful for her friendship I am.

Happy birthday to my best friend. Now let’s see if she reads my Substack.