After five pairs of soulmates discussed their friendships in a feature for the Guardian’s Weekend magazine last week, many readers responded in kind with their own experiences sharing lifetimes together. We heard about relationships of contrasts, at times, of support and empathy through difficult periods but of course also of some of the most enjoyable moments imaginable.
Here are a selection of the stories we received – you can share yours in the comments, below.
‘It is as if those 30 odd years of absence never happened’
We have known one another since we were four and went to primary and secondary school together. We played kiss chase among the hay bales in the summer – for someone who always beat me in the 100m it’s a mystery she always got caught and kissed.
In 1976, aged 16, we went our separate ways. Deborah stayed on at school and I went to London and joined the Metropolitan Police Cadets. We did not see, speak or contact one another again until 2007. I retired and returned to Hertfordshire to look after my father and we attended the funeral of Deborah’s father. And so we stood again like two little girls, one who had lost her Dad and one who was losing hers to Parkinson’s and Dementia.
Two years later Deborah was my maid of honour when I married my childhood sweetheart. Now, it is as if those 30-odd years of absence never happened. We may be in our late 50s but we are both just two little girls at heart.
Lesley, 57, Henley, Bedfordshire
‘He was such a life-changer’
I am writing this on my 63rd birthday, the first in 43 years that I cannot celebrate with my friend Kenny. In February, I sat by him as he passed away from complications of motor neurone disease.
After leaving school, all I wanted to do was play music for the rest of my life. My parents had grander plans, and I trundled off reluctantly to medical school. Kenny Silke’s parents raised him with softer hands, and by the time I met him, some time in 1973, he was leading a charmed life as a jobbing musician. We formed a band, and in doing so initiated a special bond which long outlasted the group’s glory days. My parents never said a word about the racket coming up from the rehearsal room, or the many lectures I skipped for the love of music.
The earliest signs of impairment had declared themselves when we reformed the band in 2009 for the inevitable come-back. But until his last laboured breath, he remained exactly the same person he’d always been, his final gesture being the smile with which he’d greeted me all those years before in a dank dance-hall reeking of beer and cigarettes. He was such a life-changer, and I miss him every day.
David Bass, 63, Cape Town, South Africa
‘Neither of us regard nationality as a barrier to friendship’
Ulrike and I took part in a school exchange when we were 15 – we were matched up by our interests and it couldn’t have been more perfect. She spent three weeks with me in my very English grammar school and we travelled back to Frankfurt where I had three wonderful weeks with her family.
We bonded immediately and have met frequently over the years. Both of us had an interest in politics and have corresponded on a personal level but also discussed many other issues in letters and emails, the most recent being that of Brexit. Both of us for different reasons and from different cultures regarded the decision to leave the EU as a major mistake.
We will always remain friends. Neither of us regard nationality as a barrier to friendship; quite the reverse.
Pam Ward, Sheffield
‘A 53 year age gap seems odd, but our friendship has taught me so much’
My best friend is 70 years old, loves Elvis and open plan kitchens. Irene was also, oddly, my childminder. Her husband suffered from MS and died of cancer 21 years ago, and she then took up looking after my brother. Irene seems to have this odd thing where she is a compulsive carer.
I’ve known her since the day I was born – every day she would pick me up from school and then I would go to her house and have soup and waffles and watch Friends. I know a 56 year age gap seems odd, but honestly our friendship has taught me so much more about the world than the relationships with any of my friends who are my peers. I think it’s the time and constant unconditional love she has shown me that has made our friendship so strong. Irene is the kindest and most organised person I know. Her constant routine and structure has allowed me to be as creative, unstructured and carefree – I would be lost without her. I think I make her less uptight, and she makes me less disastrous.
Niamh Browne, 17, Cork
‘It took weeks before the ice broke, but once it had there was no stopping us’
Gaea Todd has been my best friend for over 30 years, since I was seven – she’s a year older than me and is the Godmother of my 17-year-old daughter; I am the same to her two-year-old son.
In 1985 my mother, my brothers and sister and I moved to Kilburn, North London. We moved from a house where we’d suffered racial abuse to a house my mother still lives in today. I remember the day my she sent me over to go and play with the children next door – she made me put on a red dress before I went so that I looked respectable, but I hated wearing it. Gaea’s mum and sister welcomed me with open arms, Gaea, on the other hand, just looked me up and down and carried on watching TV.
It took some weeks before the ice broke between us, but once it had, there was no stopping us. We have lived out some of our dreams together, we have travelled around South Africa and worked as volunteers in Botswana. We have fought and laughed and cried together and I simply love her. Her mother and mine are still good friends after all these years.
Ekua McMorris, 38, London
‘I believe that our sexuality doesn’t define our friendship’
Louise and I have been friends for fifteen years this summer. We met when I was 15 and she 16 at a gay youth group called Allsorts in Brighton, England. The alternative look was “in” then, and I thought Louise was really cool with her baggy jeans, chains and beads. I’m not sure what she thought about me – probably that I had a bad haircut but seemed quite funny.
We started spending time together outside of the youth group – going to see bands, experimenting with underage drinking, and sneaking into clubs. Exploring Brighton’s gay scene with Louise was the highlight of my teenage years. One summer we practically never spent a day apart and throughout our late teens I recall many days spent hungover at her parents house.
We were both in London for University, albeit opposite ends of the city, and yet still found time to spend together among new friends, deadlines and exams. Post-graduation I moved back to Brighton and Louise stayed in the capital. We continued to see each other every few months and always looked for opportunities to relive our teenage years and go out clubbing or to see bands.
Louise is incredibly patient and has guided me through some questionable relationships. Our bond is really strong because we share a similar sense of humour. I admire Louise’s work ethic and passion for her craft. She’s a successful freelance illustrator and every time I see her work in print or online I feel incredibly proud of what she’s achieved.
Eight months ago I made a huge life-changing decision to relocate to Vancouver, Canada. Louise came with me to the airport and was the last person I hugged goodbye before going through the gate. She’ll be my first visitor later this year, too.
Our friendship started because we both knew we were gay at a young age. However I believe that our sexuality doesn’t define our friendship; it’s merely a coincidence. I think finding someone who is into a lot of the same things you are, shares similar values and morals, and has a fantastic sense of humour is rare and should be cherished.
Claire, 30, Vancouver – originally from Brighton
‘Our friendship is older than our marriages and children’
I have two oldest friends and would not want to choose. We have known each other for over 50 years: Jane for 54 years and Marjorie for 53.
Marj is a qualified librarian and Jane a teacher. We grew up in 60s Manchester and took advantage of the cultural and social scene there.
We all worked for a trade and technical publishing company in Manchester, which must have been one of the most wacky places to work. We were all keen not to slot into the ‘married at 21, get a mortgage and two children’ sort of life that seemed like the only option for many women at the time.
We have breaks in our friendship but always kept those links that have endured. We wanted something else in our lives and we have all achieved that in our different ways – we’re all married now and have five children between us, two of us living in France and the other a frequent visitor.
Our friendship is older than our marriages and children and I cannot imagine my life without either one. We are the witnesses to the narratives of our lives as others have disappeared along the way, and they’ve supported me through life traumas including serious illness and bereavement.
Three years ago we had a grand celebration in Manchester to mark our 50 years of friendship. Two of us travelled from France for the event. We had lunch at a top restaurant, then visited our old workplace and went to a feminist book launch before spending a fantastic night at the Dolly Parton musical. More recently I have had a health scare resulting in an operation in July and waiting for results to assess if more serious. One stayed with me the beginning and the other supported me after the operation. Friends for life.
Val Stevens, France, 71
‘He was top of the class, I was bottom’
When I saw David at my wedding last year, we realised that this September would mark 25 years since we met. I thought that a quarter-century of friendship deserved a celebration, so I’ve just been to visit David [Burn – a professor of early music at KU Leuven] in Belgium for five days – I’m writing this on a train during the final leg of my journey home.
We met having both just left school to go to college in Nottingham. We both enrolled on a music course but came from very different musical backgrounds – I’d started as a club organist, playing the working men’s club circuit, whilst David played harpsichord and studied ancient music. He was a shoe-in for the course, whereas I got in by the skin of my teeth. In the first term exams, he was top of the class, I was bottom. We formed a friendship based on a shared inquisitiveness, and we were firm friends throughout our time there. David got a scholarship to Oxford, and I went to university in Yorkshire. We saw each other as often as we could whilst undergraduates – we both found university life lonely, and neither of us found friends that shared the same close bond we’d formed between us. When I graduated, I stayed in Yorkshire. David stayed in Oxford for his master’s, and then his PhD. We saw each other as often as we could, but this became more and more difficult with the passing of time. It never seemed to matter though – we always picked up exactly as we’d left off.
We’ve had an incredible time reminiscing over the last 25 years together, and even going back and playing through the piano duets and songs we learned at college – over 20 years have passed since we last played or sang together, and it came flooding back as though it was yesterday.
Timothy Allen, 41, choir director from Barnsley
‘Neither time nor distance has any corrosive effect on our friendship’
Mike ‘Oz’ Owen is my oldest friend – I’ve known him since we were 5 years old, 47 years ago and he is essentially the brother I never had. I live in Wiltshire but he lives in Brighton, working as a lighting designer for big-name acts such as Beyonce and Madonna.
We don’t need to see or speak or e-mail each other regularly – we just pick-up after six months or so; neither time nor distance has any corrosive effect.We just understand each other – have the same perspectives on life and the same values.
He, like me hails from a working class background and we both seemed unusual in our growing-up in not wanting to live locally and get a job in the local factory. We both made it to university in the 80s when few from backgrounds like ours even had that expectation. We both sought to ‘escape’ our roots and live independently and seek out experiences.
I can share any problem I have without fear of judgement from Oz. He offers sane counsel and has helped me financially in times of need. I know that I can simply turn-up at his if I need refuge – which I have done in the past. He will sympathise, listen and share a possible solution.
Having been a ‘best man’ at a wedding, I didn’t want to burden him with that role, seeking to protect him from the labor of the speech. On the day, without my knowledge, Oz stood-up at our wedding reception and spoke beautifully from the heart, braving something that I know would have been uncomfortable to him. He spoke knowingly of me as only a friend could. I was deeply touched. We have travelled together, had minor adventures together, gone to gigs, played guitar together and tried to fathom what it’s all about together for the last 47 years, swapping field-notes from life as we go on. It ‘aint over yet but I know that one of us will be speaking at the other’s funeral.
John Randall, 52, Devizes, Wiltshire
