If only I’d kept in touch…

I think most of my friends would say that I’m fairly good at keeping in touch with people. Yes, facebook helps a lot and so does this blog, but I think it’s a pretty good achievement that despite leaving my London secondary school at 13, I kept up contact with my 3 closest friends all through ‘life before facebook’. One of those friends I might see only once a year (though we’re working on making this more frequent) but when we meet it’s just the same as ever.

This is why I’m feeling particularly wretched right now.
I lost touch with someone and now I can’t get back in touch with them.

I didn’t even lose touch properly. I always had their phone number and e-mail address. Only a month ago, at Christmas, my mum and I were talking about them and I resolved to get in touch.

Angela was my landlady for a year whilst I did my masters, I was a lodger in her gorgeous house just five doors down from my childhood home and we got on famously. We shared a mutual love of G&T’s, Alan Rickman and chick-flicks, despite a 35 year age gap. Even after I moved out, her home was a refuge from the mania of Chester House. I was always greeted at the door with a hug and a G&T. Perfect.

But moving south of the river a few years ago meant that we weren’t across the road from each other anymore. It wasn’t so easy to meet up for supper. She wasn’t on facebook. It was easy to have the intention of getting in contact, but never quite managing to.

Yesterday I had a message from her son to let me know that after a year of battling lung cancer, Angela had died earlier in the week. I hadn’t even known she was ill.

Maybe it’s better that I remember her well and full of life. But I’m going to let this be a lesson to me not to take the entries in my phone book for granted and to not ignore those in my life who aren’t on facebook.

As I sit at her funeral on Thursday I’ll concentrate on my favourite memories. Like when she met Alan Rickman at the Love, Actually premiere and kept the photo on her phone for months afterwards. Or her determination to own white sofas and a new Mini, despite their impractacilities for life with grandchildren. And most of all, the fact that she was one of the few people in this world who insisted on calling me Elizabeth instead of Liz.


  1. Oh Liz, I’m so sorry to hear this. I met her twice I think. I will forever remember the night you and I got back in touch and we chatted in her kitchen. Til 1 in the morning I think! xx Ian

  2. That’s really sad… I too know the frustration of loosing touch with people. It’s horrible to miss out on time with them. Hope you’re ok xc

  3. I am so sorry you found out about your dear friend like this. It reminds me of that poem, “Around the corner I have a friend.” It makes me think twice about some of the people I have let slip through the cracks recently.

    In December you came by my blog for a giveaway. I’m doing another one if you are interested in stopping by.


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