A few weeks back I got an e-mail from a reader of my blog desperate enough to ask me for help. Happily their crisis has passed and remarkably they reckon I was of some help. Before anyone starts I did ask their permission to talk about this. In any case this post is about me, more than anything else.
Anyway during the course of our correspondence they asked me how many friends I had. To which I cunningly replied define friends. They sneakily asked me how I define friends and how many people fit that description. Bah! A low score follows.
Well I hummed and hawed. I know a lot of people. I'm friendly with most of them but who is a friend? Being a big fan of the actions speak louder than words way of thinking. I set to thinking about who I could call in an awful state at five in the morning and expect to help me and arrived at the grand score of one. So I took that to mean that I have one close friend. Indeed during my own crisis earlier this week this person proved themselves in ways I couldn't have predicted. It's rather humbling when someone offers you help that will cost them dearly, really more than they can afford.
I moved on to people who would accept me (however grudgingly) as a friend no matter what I did and arrived at two.
As for the rest. They include many lovely people but are more properly described as acquaintances. That said many of them have proved themselves as decent, caring, thoughtful
people over the last week. Thanks to all of you for failing to humour me. I'm forever in your debt.
Fair weather friends really aren't worth the flesh they're made of. Time to edit the diary I think.