Long term readers will know I have a bit of a thing for rugby.
I watch it.
I talk about it (in a kind of “I don’t really know what I’m talking about but if I just talk about how fit Simon Shaw is you might think I’m a shallow being. Instead, I’ll just make up opinons on how so-and-so is the best scrummy we’ve had for ages. Go on, shoot me down” kind of way)
… and, until recently, I played it.
Every year, Old UK Team go on tour. It’s a long weekend of drinking, playing rugby and generally being mischievous. For the last couple of years, I’ve been involved with organising it, I haven’t missed a tour in all the years I’ve been at the club.
And this year, things were looking good. I was on the committee to help organise, I was thinking about my costumes, I was contemplating our breakfast shot (a brilliant tradition which I plan to take with me on every holiday I now go on). And then I got the call. And so I left the UK and started this new life.
Yesterday, I emailed the Old UK Team and told them I wasn’t coming on tour. I cited work pressures and the fact I have a conference the day after we get back.
And this is true. But there’s something else.
(and be warned, this next rant is all part of the post-honeymoon “what the hell am I doing here” stage of moving country. Give me another few months and I’ll be out of this stage too)I feel disconnected from them. Very few have kept in touch. I don’t know what I expected to be honest. Did I think that I was such a huge part of the club that they’d set up a shrine to me at the bar? Did I think that I’d be bombarded with phone calls, text messages and emails every day telling me how wonderful I was?
No, of course not. I don’t know, I just thought that some of them, those I counted amongst my closest friends in the UK, would keep in touch a bit more than they have.
Oh, I know, it’s partly my fault too. I’ve been busy and haven’t made the time to keep in touch as much as I wanted to. But I have made a little effort. A couple of quick emails every now and then (I suppose once a week or so although that’s slowly dropped off due to lack of response).
But not a lot back.
A friend of mine said the other day that you could count your true friends on one hand. I thought about it and yes, I can.
- The Model of a Modern Major General (we had a “thing” once, when we were, what? 16? Trustworthy, sensible, flirtatious and with a slight wicked streak. Now married, he gives me very useful advice on plugs and amuses me with admissions that he’s scared of my father)
- Fursty Ferret (uni drinking buddy, made introductions to Old UK Club and most of my friends at uni. Loyal, one of those vivacious guys who you think is life and soul but actually, sometimes, just wants to sit down and chat. Now sings beautiful renditions of Les Mis down the phone at me. Also scared of my father)
- Bad Influence (another uni friend. Big cow eyes, sparkling, sarcastic, kind. She’s only met my parents twice. Both times she was so hungover she couldn’t speak)
- Gwyneth Paltrow look-a-like (ex-work colleague. Intelligent, thoughtful, considerate. Has exceptionally good taste when it comes to interiors and generally looking fabulous. She’s just had a baby and, although I hate babies generally, I have to say, annoyingly, this is one of the best looking babies I’ve ever seen. Damn her!)
- Grace Kelly (another uni friend. Stylish. Gorgeous. Intelligent. Horribly nice. Possibly slightly embarrassed by me. Shares a passion for the Slipper and the Rose and other films of that ilk.)
I’ve never done that before. Listed friends. It seems mercenary and evil. But now I’m out here and I have *no* friends, I cling on to these ones all the more.
Sorry about that guys.
Don’t forget you also have us lot. I know it’s not the same as real life friends that you share history and beer with but some of us here do loves you lots and will be your real life friends as soon as we can save up the air fare and buy special swiss chocolate eating trousers
Trousers that eat chocolate? A scary thought.
And yes, I know I have you lot. But you’re right, it’s not the same. Not to say it isn’t good and lovely and right and wonderful. But it’s not quite the same.
First and foremost is, stop apologizing. We love you and that’s why we keep coming back. You couldn’t possibly offend us so knock it off. If you do something that requires an apology, we’ll let you know.
This disconnect with your team is part of the human condition, I’m afraid. Do you know what happened to me when I left Cleveland for New York City? I lost most of my Cleveland friends. When I moved from New York to the suburbs of New Jersey, my NYC friend washed their hands. The wheel turns.
NYC friends. Plural. Not singular.
Yeah, yeah, we believe you
And yes, I apologise a lot at the moment. It comes with the territory of generally being unsure about myself. I’ll get over it and be the generally bolshy person I am soon, promise!
That is absolutely the truth.
It’s funny hey? I’ve never really thought about it but now I have, I can see the truth in it.
A few good TRUE friends is far better than lots of acquaintances you don’t know that well. That I know to be true.
You’re right, of course. However, all my true friends aren’t here. So it’d be quite nice to have some acquaintances too
Been there, been there. I kept waiting for some kind of London Mud outreach programme…. but o you know what? For you things have changed soooo dramatically, for them life potters along and they don’t have that feeling. Changing countries is a rollercoaster and you will come out of this low. Promise!
I know it Mud. I’m a lucky lady to have you – who moved what, a couple of months before me? You’ve been there, done that and now can tell me that it will be ok! Of course, deep down, I know it’ll be ok too.
Ah tour, one of the finest things ever. I also love the breakfast shot and delighted in picking the most evil thing I could find when tour organiser, though not sure Amarula was mine finest selection.
I know, a little, what you;re feeling, I gave up rugby due to work and other pressure and then lost touch with those in the team I thought I was closer to. I still get invited to tour but it feels weird when you don’t know 3/4s of the team, plus youngesters dont tour as they should, some even refusing the selected shot.
Am stopping now before I make myself sound even more like a grumpy old woman
Youth today, eh? They just have no idea how to tour. In my day… etc
One of my favourite breakfast shots was Waileys – whiskey and Baileys. If you had a nice weights and measures, they’d put more Baileys than whiskey which made it a little easier!
Hey, Nuts – you have gmail.
Hey you!
I promise you it does get easier…though the feeling of friends for a season or a particular reason doesn’t go away. I retired last year due to medical reasons, it meant that now i’m not really in it at all…the girls i spent every weekend with now rarely bat a eyelid at me. I kept one or two as close friends…i’m going on tour this year but am having second thoughts about it…i’m only going because one of the girls who is still a close friend really wants me too. In terms of living abroad, you do really find out who your real friends are…i lost so many so called friends that year in the ‘Dam, but do you know what…i’m better off without them…now i spend more time with my ‘real’ friends. You will settle and find those people in chocolate land that you want to spend time with…but it does take time and a little energy. Take heart and faith from it and don’t ever beat yourself up for it…
P.s i think its nearly time i came to stay!
xx
Name the date!
You sure know who your friends are in times of crisis or absence. As someone else said, take comfort from your blog pals until you can make new ones in Switzerland.
Thank you. I will, and I do.
Although, to be honest, work is so stupidly busy at the moment I can’t even take the time to do that.
I seem destined to be on my own at the moment!
Of course I’m scared of your Father, but I’d go to war with him.
x
ps – I don’t what else to say without sounding trite, so I won’t.
*snog*
I felt exactly the same when I was in France… However, it also taught me that some people just really are bad at keeping in touch and it’s something I just had to accept. My “best friend” is uncontactable 90% of the time, whether I’m abroad or home, but she’d still be there if I needed her and when we’re both in the same place we’re like peas in a pod.
I accept some people are bad at keeping in touch. I know that. However, it doesn’t mean that when I get in touch with them, they don’t answer. That’s just rude.
I do think that generally people are cack at keeping in touch, particularly when distance is involved.
You’ve nailed it in the last bit of the post. I don’t see how you can possibly have more than a handful of people that you really trust and feel truly at ease with, whatever the situation.
My kids have asked me who is my best friend, and the answer is always the same, ‘Your Mum’, which they find hilarious because ‘she’s a girl’.
That is too cute. “She’s a girl”. HA!
N I wouldn’t worry about it.
When my parent’s dropped dead in succession I really found out who my friends where. Interestingly one of them I wasn’t particularly close to any more then and still not now but she was around for me. Kind of odd considering she was 250 miles away and there were people literally 2 miles away who wouldn’t speak to me.
One of the problems is just out of sight out of mind and the fact that most people only live on Facebook. Instead of sending you an email they have to do it by Facebook. Right better stop before I start ranting about Facebook.
O – thanks for your comment. I’m sorry that you had such a hard time with friends (both near and far). It’s always interesting to see who turns up in times of need.
Let’s not rant about facebook – I’ll never stop!
Oi!Moo bird!
Post some stuff, or we’ll all think you’ve been abducted by ginger swiss sex monsters.
Perhaps they feel just as disconnected. There’s not a whole lot to say about it. I can’t remember who it was earlier who mentioned the idea that life carries on as normal for those you leave behind.
For them you are not there, and you desperately want their whole world to stop and for them to tell you how much they miss you etc etc because it makes you feel better about yourself.
But the nature of any team is that people come and people go. The joy comes from knowing you were part of something bigger than yourself. Something that WILL continue without you. But for a short time you were part of IT.
And it was awesome!
That’s the thing – I don’t expect their world to stop revolving because I’m not there, but a letter/email/phone call/text would be nice.
Just because a friend moves away, it doesn’t mean you stop talking to them (otherwise your circle of friends would be very confined!) in fact most of the time, when someone moves away, I make *more* effort to keep in touch.
Sorry, I think my point got a little lost in there without the emphasis on the right words.
I was trying to say that as the person who moves away you desperately want to be missed, but for those that get left behind there may be a feeling something akin to jealousy. You get to have this whole new life while they are stuck in the same dreary life.
Have you made an especially greater effort since being away? It will invariably be a much bigger deal for you than it is for them to stay in touch and as a group mentality thing you have to work harder to get them to stay in touch with you.
Hey – thanks for clarifying. That makes sense.
I have tried to make an effort and will continue to do so. I think it’s worth it.
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