Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
On Saturday morning, on my way to exercise the doglets, I was – as always – listening to Radio 4. There was an interview by Amol Rajan of a woman in her early 20s talking about her friendship with a man in his 40s. The piece celebrated how, when coming together as equals, two entirely different generations can form strong friendships where they can learn from and enjoy each other’s company. This was not in any way a romantic relationship, just a genuine friendship originally formed through a common interest.
I found it a breath of fresh air, not least because there is so much out there pitting men and young women against each other, but also because it recognised that whilst age is just a number, the difference can also benefit that friendship.
Willow engaged in a serious conversation about politics
Being different generations, they not only have different perspectives but – most importantly – different skills and experiences. I thoroughly enjoyed the interview but it also got me thinking about myself.
I’m fortunate to have many friends, both male and female but, interestingly, only two are of a similar age to myself, whereas all the rest are in their 20s, 30s or 40s. I’ve always put it down to the fact that I taught at secondary school and so was always surrounded by teenagers. I was responsible for quite a large number of staff but they too were always much younger than me.
I went into teaching straight after my degree and very quickly realised that I had a natural affinity with teenagers, specifically the stroppy ones; the more difficult and troubled they were, the more I liked them. I wasn’t difficult or misbehaved at school myself. In fact, it was the opposite. I was hard working, quiet and a people pleaser. I didn’t really have friends and it was a lonely time, but I buried myself in my work and did much better than I think anyone expected of me. Knowing I wanted to teach from about the third year (year 9), I had my eyes on the prize and just went for it.
My mother was my champion; a highly intelligent woman and member of Mensa in later life, she only ever reached her full potential during the war as a kinesthesodolite operator. After the war, she was quickly put ‘back in her place’ by my father, who had an archaic view of women’s abilities and position in life. Ironically, it was my mother who always held the family together. She worked two jobs and put the food on the table. I think she saw in me the opportunities she never had herself and so fought hard for me.
When my father said I must leave school at 15, she enabled me to stay on and do A Levels, and when I was determined to go to university, she did everything to help me support myself, actively going against my father. I owe her a great deal, not just for supporting me but also for showing me how, despite enormous hardship, you can take control of your own life and come out the victor.
She taught me more than anybody in my life to be tolerant, broad-minded, inclusive and inquisitive in all things. She read voraciously (as I do) and whilst she never once left this tiny island, she educated herself and learned about other peoples, countries and cultures with open interest. She believed all ethnicities were equal and was kind, considerate, empathetic and, in her own quiet way, battled against racism and was a feminist on the inside, if outwardly the opposite. I owe her so much.
Perhaps it is this past, this influence, which has shaped my own views. I’ve always been a champion of equality, be it race, class, sex or age and understood early on that education is the key to most things; it brings opportunities, broadens the mind and makes you recognise that no man is an island. We all need each other in so many ways, and it makes us so much richer in the process.
The relationship I have with my friends is precious, very much one of give and take. They bring me vibrancy, sunshine, companionship, a different perspective and even do the jobs I can no longer do myself, like opening jars or sweeping up. Most importantly, though, when you live alone, there’s no one to bounce your thoughts off or challenge your thinking. It is this that often makes older people unpleasant to be around, as they become dogmatic and set in their ways.
I converse regularly with my sausages, but they rarely question my assertions or confront my prejudices. But thankfully my friends very definitely do. I try to give them the same as what they give me. For some, I indeed play a motherly role; for others, I’m a sounding board with different perspectives and a safe space. I know I can bring experience and wisdom with calm, rational logic. With me, they know that they can always be themselves and say what they want. I’m never shocked, and I always encourage the idea that we can talk about anything, no subject off the table. Age differences aside, we are equals who bring something wonderful and precious to the relationship.
Unsurprisingly though, the link that binds us all together is, you guessed it, dogs! I can only think of one of them who I didn’t meet or get to know through our love and ownership of dogs.
So, that interview I listened to was a lovely reminder that, despite all the negativity about different generations and the conflicts being pushed on social media between men and women, wonderful, exceptional connections between us all are still being made. We often hear that age is just a number, and you know what? It absolutely is.
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