Ah, the golden era of friendship: when you and your friends were wild, and possibly a bit unhinged, some were wise —but your friends for a lifetime. Or so you thought.

Now? Over the years, some have died (how dare they): to motorcycle accidents, medical conditions and unfortunately, some to old age. Those left may have drifted off into conspiracy or political  theory territory,  and a few… well, let’s just say the restricted or block button on social media has become your new best friend… as you find the need to scroll on by for your own mental health. Ah, the golden era of friendship!

Meanwhile, I’m knee-deep in the archaeological dig that is clearing out the family home.  Nothing says “character-building” like unearthing forgotten cooking treasures, a plethora of lids, that don’t match any containers, a cupboard full of seasonal wrapping paper and bags , and every birthday card ever written between 1979 and last year.

Daily cleaning for real estate inspections where strangers come through your house and critique everything in the hope of offering a pittance for this place that holds warm family memories and has been a sanctuary from the outside world.

Grief is weird. It shows up as laughter in the middle of dust clouds, as rage at a bird as it craps on your perfectly cleaned windows, and as quiet disbelief that somehow you’re the adult now.

Still standing.

Slightly dusty.

But still standing.