Most friendships are fleeting, I would say. They come and go as people’s lives change and move on, and few of us have long-lasting ones.

My oldest and best friend is my mate Paul.

We started work together way back when I was only sixteen, straight out of school.

Unfortunately, we don’t see as much of each other as we once did, as he got married and moved away. A long way. Too far to visit on a regular (or even semi-regular) basis.

But, we keep in touch and Mrs Masher and I visited them last year, spending a very pleasnt weekend with them oop north.

Forty-six years we have known each other.

I’m sort of proud of that fact, because it takes a bit of effort. Distance easily takes a toll on friendships and despite telephones, email and the advent of social media, it’s very easy to lose touch with people.

Unless you make the effort.

Case in point: I popped in to see my dad the other day. He was just saying farewell to some visitors… friends who had stayed overnight.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Trevor and Val”,  dad answered.

“Oh, what… Trevor, your old  cycling buddy?” Dad nodded. He’d mentioned his mate Trevor several times over the years. “Crikey”, I added, “how long have you two been friends now?”

Dad thought for a moment and then said “Since we were six”.

My dad is eighty-seven.

Now, THAT’S making an effort.