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every time

 

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Every time I pour home made stock out of a cooking pot and into a container I think of my friend Leah and the time she carefully, accidentally strained the stock bones out and poured the whole pot down the sink.

Every time I make two cups of tea together, I think of the time I was on a long phonecall with my friend Vanessa when I was living in Brisbane and she was in Sydney. She was making tea. She accidentally made me one too, in her kitchen in Sydney. It was a long three years, a thousand kilometres apart. 

Every time I cut chives from the garden I think about the dinner my friend Sal made once, with fresh chives from her garden stirred through, and her fella had a puzzled look and wondered where the chives came from exactly because that corner you were headed to with the scissors only has grass in it you know, right?

Every time I hear an inspirational story I think of my sister Suzie, The Great Encourager, and how like a one-woman pep club she gave me a bag of wrapped gifts with a number on each of them when Henry was first born, and would then randomly ring for the next month and give me a number and I had to open that one. One day it was chocolate. The next time a magazine. There was hand cream. Wine. Coffee. Tissues. It was perfect.

Every time I eat chocolate cake I think of my friend Anita, the healthiest person on the planet, who treats sultanas as treats and who all those years ago taught me the difference between organic and preservative-free. Who I almost went into business with making organic snacks for kids except it was just the wrong time of our lives and how nobody makes a better chocolate cake than she does. Nobody.

Every time I host a party I think of my friend Alex who I shared a house with for a while, who just knew how to host parties. The best ones. The most fun New Years Eve ones. The ones that included skinny dipping in public baths after midnight and the most delicious dacquaris and uncomplicated hilarious interesting people. She finds them all.

Every time I buy a mango I think of my friend Rachel, who is also my very adored sister in law, who loves mangos in an unholy way. I also think of Rach every time I see a custard cream biscuit, or a McVities digestive, or a custard tart at yum cha, or a cinnamon scroll, or peanut M&Ms (our movie food of choice), or bagels or pastrami-on-rye or noodles or mayonnaise or chorizo or cheese & bacon balls.

Every time I see daffodils I think of my friend Sue and being fifteen with lace up Doc Martins and Bowral in wintertime and talking without stopping. I think of uni houses and cheese on toast and the utter joy of interesting conversation.

Every time something good happens I want to tell my sister Naomi, whom I've lived in many different houses with and told all the good things to forever, and who now lives in Hong Kong and who is coming to stay with her posse of ridiculously excellent small girls and very very funny husband for two weeks, in two weeks. 

And that makes the world excellent

Friends with history are a gift. And if we all get alzheimer's and lose our short term memories it'll be those friends we remember and who amuse us, every time. 

Cheers to that with two cups of tea.

xxx

 

20 Comments on “every time

Philippa
March 7, 2013 at 11:41 pm

Beautiful writing Fi – no matter what directions our lives end up going in it’s wonderful to have such great memories of dear friends and family members, their quirks, their talents and kindnesses. I love that two cups of tea story and the bag of numbered presents in particular. And is the utterly awesome chocolate cake recipe Anita’s by any chance? 🙂 x

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Kim
March 7, 2013 at 11:56 pm

What a gorgeous post! It sounds like you have some great people in your life, and lots of fun too. xK

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Lyssa
March 8, 2013 at 12:16 am

What an inspiration your words are to look back fondly at my own past and appreciate the lovely friends over the years! Enjoy the time with your sister when she arrives : )

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Melanie @ M&M
March 8, 2013 at 12:55 am

Oh so lovely. Makes me want to sit down and write mine all out too!

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Sue
March 8, 2013 at 3:59 am

I’m going for a cuppa tea now, just a little bit teary. Almost daffodil time here. Have so much fun with Naomi, and give my love to all.
Hey, did I tell you my kids have a cousin?!! I’m so excited! She’s 2 months old, and only lives 90 minutes away!

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innerpickle
March 8, 2013 at 6:56 am

Actually its not. Anitas is better. I think hers is based on a Chez Panisse recipe and has a bucketload of lindt 80% in it. Its insane.

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innerpickle
March 8, 2013 at 7:00 am

No you didnt, and thats awesome! Cousins are the business. Just ask Ivy who every. single. day. asks if today is the day Georgia and Rose are coming.

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jamsandwich
March 8, 2013 at 8:13 am

Every time I take my weighing scales out to measure ingredients for something delicious I think of my beautiful friend Blaithin who gave them to me on my wedding day over 20 years ago, who helped me through a tough start to motherhood with lots of tea and cake and who sadly lost her battle with cancer a couple of years ago.
I love that your friend made you a cup of tea when you were on the phone.
Beautiful writing, thank you.

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Just Joyful
March 8, 2013 at 8:13 am

What a beautiful post. You made me stop and think about the friends I have, and how grateful I am for them. And also about the friends I have had in the past who are not in my life anymore.

Thank you!

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Lisa
March 8, 2013 at 8:15 am

Love that post, so true, like certain songs that evoke memories of people and places.

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Sarah
March 8, 2013 at 9:11 am

What an astonishingly lovely post – Fi, you really are an amazing lady for drawing those sentiments into such sharp, well-written perspective. And here’s to friends near and far.

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Michelle
March 8, 2013 at 5:16 pm

I really enjoyed reading this….I even read it out loud to my husband. I’ll be smiling for days thinking about the chives and stock stories!

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angela.thompson1@bigpond.com
March 8, 2013 at 6:14 pm

Much like a milk arrowroot biscuit takes me back to 50 Fern St.

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Mel Vallel
March 8, 2013 at 6:49 pm

Cornflake cookie dough and iced coffee at your kitchen table Milking at 5am on a high school sleep over. Our Deb ball. Great memories xx

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innerpickle
March 8, 2013 at 7:17 pm

Thats it Mel. xxx

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flowerpress
March 8, 2013 at 9:12 pm

What a wonderful post. I could name a million things and places and plants and recipes that are the same for me, forever tied to a special person, place and time.

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Serena
March 9, 2013 at 12:26 am

Lovely!

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Stan
March 10, 2013 at 12:28 pm

Hey Fi – have you ever thought of submitting this for publication – you might even make enough to give up your part time job (that’s if you want to). And your blog provides all the notes you need to write a(some) book(s). Now there’s a thought. You could be the next literary discovery!

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Ree
March 30, 2013 at 11:10 am

This post was utterley delightful. So glad I found it. Gives one the warm-and-fuzzies.

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Noel
April 20, 2013 at 3:39 am

I just want you to know that your blog posts – especially the chatty remembrance ones like this – bring a smile to my face every time. I don’t know how I originally found your blog … I live a world away in Santa Barbara, California. But I feel like I’m sitting down to a letter from a friend and I need a cup of tea and something fresh baked from the oven every time I sit down to read it … and, when I walk away, I want to walk away with a good friend and perhaps go for a beach walk and talk about our own memories.

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