LIZ JONES: It’s my birthday next weekend – and, as usual, I’m not expecting much
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It’s my birthday next weekend. I’m not going to repeat how old I am, although I always receive numerous emails and DMs, mainly from short, balding men, reminding me.
I don’t think we should be defined by a number calculated from the day we were born. How about, how many animals have you saved? What’s your BMI? Number of novels read? How much have you given to charity? Those are the numbers that count.
Three years ago, I was stood up by my best female friend, not even a text to say she was no longer joining me for lunch at a country house hotel. Two years ago, I was stood up by a man on my birthday eve – I’d booked us a mini-break at a Suffolk hotel – and received not even a chrysanth as an apology. Last year, I travelled to Turkey, and while I had wanted a quiet dinner, alone, was presented with a cake with candles as I left my table to slink back to my swim-to-the-door villa.
This year I’m meeting my friend from York at a hotel, the sort of place that calls what I have booked a table for ‘luncheon’. I am picking her up, then staying in the hotel overnight so that I can have a glass of champagne. The place is so classy, so genteel and old-fashioned, they have not pre-authorised (good luck with that) my card upon booking. When did the modern world get so greedy?
The day before, I’m having a pedicure and brow tint, though the spa in North Yorkshire does not perform extreme bikini waxes; I have no idea why. Perhaps as it gets very cold here oop north.
My friend is more than 20 years older than me, and I adore our intergenerational relationship. We met many years ago at a book festival and have been close, mostly over email, ever since. She is so wise. ‘The reason David’s toilet is black is due to limescale.’ She sent me flowers when Mini Puppy died. And she is so generous: she sent me a baby grand piano. Why aren’t my contemporaries ever generous? Or selfless? My friend cared for her former partner with not a single word of complaint, not one single swipe about him, and you know how we modern women love to eviscerate the opposite sex. ‘I have to buy a new sofa,’ she said after he spilt his tea on it. ‘Hey ho. I installed a chair lift, but it can easily be dismantled now he’s gone.’
She arranged his funeral respecting his every wish: the plumed black horses taking him on a last tour around the landmarks of York: past his tailor, his favourite restaurant. She doesn’t suffer fools and, guess what, neither do I. She is always turned out immaculately, an Hermès silk scarf at her throat.
My friend doesn’t drive, and when her cat was ill, I collected them both and took them to a referral vet. She has never forgotten that kindness, while the younger women I have befriended instantly forgot the Mulberry handbags I gifted, the Adele tickets, the New Year’s Eve champagne and Aesop candles and Cowshed unguents. My older friend once dated a famous movie star and, seeing the black and white photos of them on the wall of her lovely home, reading his love letters, I was gobsmacked at her beauty. What a life she led! London in the 1960s! If I could time-travel, that is where I would head: Paul McCartney in his black suit and proper shoes; even on the Beatles’ wildest days they still drank tea out of bone china cups. All I can tell my friend is I once stood inches from Liam and Noel Gallagher and went to Marrakesh with a member of Blur. I sat opposite Whitney Houston at a Dolce & Gabbana catwalk show in Milan and, despite my barely contained excitement, she didn’t smile my way.
My friend when I ask for her memories? ‘My GP says I am suffering from “grief mind”: I can’t remember things. I’m not great at witty anecdotes. I might be in better shape when we meet. Remember the evenings are chilly, best sling a cardie in your bag.’
I love her. I really do.
JONES MOANS… WHAT LIZ LOATHES THIS WEEK
- People who say, ‘I’d stack shelves in Tesco if needs be’ but they never do stack shelves, do they?
- The M&S crémant at Scotch Corner was £10, then it was £13, then £15 and last weekend it had shot up to £17.50! And I never was invited to their catwalk show for London Fashion Week last Friday.
