Another fine day y'all got me into
Nov. 11th, 2011 03:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI've been saying for years - for decades, probably: I do tend to find a line and stick to it - that one of the reasons I settled so quickly in Newcastle was that I moved into a student house and inherited a social life. The people I met then, my housemates and their friends, are still the core of my adult friendship. In the intervening thirty years I've met, befriended and loved scores and maybe hundreds of other people in other ways - writerly or fannish or foodie, theatrical or musical, clubby or party or neighbourly or almost entirely random: you know how that goes - but that particular circle of young grown-ups took me in and made me welcome and stayed with me even after life pulled us all physically apart, and those people sit still at the absolute heart of my adult life. It's a common experience, I know, for people at that age and that stage of their lives, but knowing that makes it no less potent every individual time.
Now here I am thirty years older, and it's happening again. I'm moving a little further this time, and it's all a little more complicated (in 1980, I packed a bag and left my books with my mother, boarded a train in Cornwall as Charles and got off in Newcastle as Chaz, walked up the hill to m'friend Dean's flat and that was that), but the motive principle is similar. And once I'm settled in, a Californian resident (forsooth!), no doubt I'll meet people on my own account, make new and different friends, etc etc. At the moment, though, my friends over here are Karen's friends - and that's my point, really. They've known her for twenty years, in contexts I don't share; they might reasonably be suspicious, wary of this lanky foreigner with the absurd accent and the unlikely purposes. Lord knows, they'd have reasons enough. And yet, and yet. They are being warm and open and welcoming, generous of time and resources; if I feel at home and half settled already (though I leave at the weekend, sob) it's in good part due to Karen's friends.
Yesterday was another gorgeous day, weather-wise; who knew November could be warm and sunful in San Francisco? Karen left early, for workie reasons; Laurie picked me up later and we made an emergency dash to the railway station, to save K a fine for parking without displaying her permit. (I have a key. To K's car. Well, technically it's The Spare Key, but in my heart it's mine. I've never had a car key of my own before.) (Or indeed part-shares in a car. When she reads this, K will say "It's not my car, it's ours," and we will smile foolishly at each other.)
Then L and I drove up to the city, to the Legion of Honor building, to meet friends and see an exhibition of sculptures from the tomb of John the Fearless, and other artstuff. So we met K and T and CJ in the sunshine on the terrace, and looked at lots of art; and drank coffee and nibbled charcuterie and went back for a second round, lots more art. And then walked down into the city for a Chinese lunch and a wander, and climbed back up to the park on the headland to look at the view of the bay and the bridge and the ocean. And by the time we tore ourselves away and turned the car's nose for south and home, it was after five and K was texting to ask where we were, as she was just heading for the train; so we turned the car's nose around again and went to fetch her. And then we chased our day's companions to the restaurant where they were meeting other friends, but the place was full so we abandoned them-all and went elsewhere for tapas and wine.
And so, eventually, home. And every now and then the thought drifts across my mind that in a few months I'll be living here, with that city and those views. And these people. A new inherited circle, a fresh start, a different kind of life. Oy. Did I say I feel blessed?
Now here I am thirty years older, and it's happening again. I'm moving a little further this time, and it's all a little more complicated (in 1980, I packed a bag and left my books with my mother, boarded a train in Cornwall as Charles and got off in Newcastle as Chaz, walked up the hill to m'friend Dean's flat and that was that), but the motive principle is similar. And once I'm settled in, a Californian resident (forsooth!), no doubt I'll meet people on my own account, make new and different friends, etc etc. At the moment, though, my friends over here are Karen's friends - and that's my point, really. They've known her for twenty years, in contexts I don't share; they might reasonably be suspicious, wary of this lanky foreigner with the absurd accent and the unlikely purposes. Lord knows, they'd have reasons enough. And yet, and yet. They are being warm and open and welcoming, generous of time and resources; if I feel at home and half settled already (though I leave at the weekend, sob) it's in good part due to Karen's friends.
Yesterday was another gorgeous day, weather-wise; who knew November could be warm and sunful in San Francisco? Karen left early, for workie reasons; Laurie picked me up later and we made an emergency dash to the railway station, to save K a fine for parking without displaying her permit. (I have a key. To K's car. Well, technically it's The Spare Key, but in my heart it's mine. I've never had a car key of my own before.) (Or indeed part-shares in a car. When she reads this, K will say "It's not my car, it's ours," and we will smile foolishly at each other.)
Then L and I drove up to the city, to the Legion of Honor building, to meet friends and see an exhibition of sculptures from the tomb of John the Fearless, and other artstuff. So we met K and T and CJ in the sunshine on the terrace, and looked at lots of art; and drank coffee and nibbled charcuterie and went back for a second round, lots more art. And then walked down into the city for a Chinese lunch and a wander, and climbed back up to the park on the headland to look at the view of the bay and the bridge and the ocean. And by the time we tore ourselves away and turned the car's nose for south and home, it was after five and K was texting to ask where we were, as she was just heading for the train; so we turned the car's nose around again and went to fetch her. And then we chased our day's companions to the restaurant where they were meeting other friends, but the place was full so we abandoned them-all and went elsewhere for tapas and wine.
And so, eventually, home. And every now and then the thought drifts across my mind that in a few months I'll be living here, with that city and those views. And these people. A new inherited circle, a fresh start, a different kind of life. Oy. Did I say I feel blessed?