Give me old friends

I'm sitting here in my friend's kitchen just outside of St Albans, Hertfordshire. 

I've missed the smells of England. The scent of Persil washing detergent, endless cups of tea, toast and marmalade and digestive biscuits. The fragrance of Indian food from the local, which tastes amazing, regardless of what it is. (Last night we had Butter Paneer - amazing). 

I've missed the sights of England. The kitchens with their nick-nacks. The washing machine and dryer parked in the kitchen. The bread bins and necessary water filter jugs sitting on the counter top - necessary as the lime scale is dreadful. We are so lucky in Melbourne with our water. 

The animals live inside here. My friends two Canaan dogs have different personalities. Laika is a tart. Zev is very skittish. We're not interacting. As much as I would like to try, I am leaving it, for fear of being nipped. Not that I am scared of him, but it's best to give him space. I reckon I'd win him over in a week. 

It's the spending time with old friends that's I'm most grateful for. 

Yesterday was spent with Annie. We met when we worked at Lehman Brothers in the 90s. We've seen each other through a lot of good and bad times. Break ups, immigration, childbirth, bad bosses, medical issues... pretty much everything. We're now well into middle age. Annie sports amazing long white-grey hair. We've faced the ravages of menopause. As unforgiving as it is, we're some of the lucky ones. We have our health and our strength. 

We ambled from Tower Hill down to the Embankment over the afternoon, taking in what the city has to offer. I lead her to St Dunstans in the East, a garden set amid the ruins of a Christopher Wren church bombed by the Nazi's in 1941. 

"How do you know about this?" she asked. 

"Instagram." No need to lie. 

Some more ambling lead us to St Olaves church, this little gem of a place tucked behind the Tower of London. There is a memorial to Samuel Pepys. I was meant to find this place. We had a commune. 

"How did you know about this?" Annie asked. 

"I didn't. We were meant to find it."

"Who's Samuel Pepys."

"Look him up on the internet. He's cool. Interesting bloke."

We continued walking, catching up on the last 13 years. Our interests. Our lives. Her very tall 18-year-old son. My cat. Our ageing parents. 

We hadn't seen each other in 13 years, but it doesn't feel like any time has passed. This is the great thing about old friends. 

As we ambled, we got to appreciate the city. We made our way to the Temple Church, a Templar church I wanted to see. From my research, there's normally a five-pound charge to get in. We got there as a wedding was coming out. The sign said that the place was closed to the public. 

"I'm going to Australian my way in."

"Pand, don't."

"Nope. Watch me."

I crept in the door and poked my head around the corner, gently approaching the vicar.

"Hello, I was wondering if I could have a quick look around. I've come from Australia and I won't get a chance to come back here and I'm a freemason and this place is very special to us."

The plummy voiced vicar welcomed me in with open arms. I called Annie in to have a look.

"How did you do that?" she asked. 

"Australian charm."

"Did you pull out the "G'day?"

"Yes. And the voice I use in Darwin. And the Freemason card."

"You are shameless."

"Don't ask, don't get." 

And this is why old friends get you. And will accept you for your foibles. 

For me, it's the added knowledge of knowing the Brits and how to get around them. That insider knowledge of what works and what doesn't. Of when to use the English accent - the more common one or the modulated posh voice, or when to go full Australian. 

It's been fun. 

Today's song: