What Is Friend?

We all know of the archetypal writer, an introverted character, struggling to find the right word, passionate with a message, a muse an inspiration. 

I describe the writer of leisure, the writer who is able to indulge a creative whim, the writer who does not have to get up and go to work tomorrow, or see to the dinner or put together a fancy dress costume at late notice for a play you missed in the school newsletter.

The leisurely writer is aloof and mingles with only a select few. OK I might be going a bit far with this, but this is how I always envisaged a writer. When in fact the only way a writer is likely to come up with new ideas, original notions and character driven narratives is by getting out there and mixing.

In the past month my family and I have been doing quite a lot of mixing, we have done two craft fairs (one in the pouring rain), we have been to one private art showing of contemporary sculpture, and then last weekend we part took in a Cos-play event and later that evening we attended an international language and cultural event where I read my poem My Mother’s Land.

I love people. I like nearly everyone I meet and am generally a dreadful judge of character. I enjoy talking to people and people give me ideas, ideas for plot lines, ideas for characters, even just ideas for character descriptions.

During these past weeks of mixing I have met and talked too old ladies about sewing, young mothers about children, a well traveled woman who wrote for the world of fashion, a doctor of philosophy who didn’t know what sominal realism was but defined nominal realism for me. I have met and talked to games enthusiasts, I have discussed gardening, community projects, I have petted numerous dogs and conversed with several tramps all of whom were enamored with my husband’s art work.

At the language and cultural event (LESIN) I met my first Mexican (South America fascinates me), I spoke to some Arab men (two of whom turned out to be visiting from my home town Cardiff). I chatted to several Spaniards; who were all quite stereo-typically smoking on the balcony. I talked to a chap from the Czech Republic, an American travel writer and a Syrian Asylum seeker.

These have all been great experiences, new conversations, new music, new dancing (from the Philippines) the beautiful rhythm of foreign languages and exiting exotic food. The language and cultural evening was several hours of thoroughly enjoyable newness; but for one thing…

The Syrian: he stood alone in the corner of the balcony, I spoke to him and asked his story. He said “I am Asylum”. He has been here for eleven months and his English is poor. I asked had he made any friends.  “What is friend?” And I struggled to explain with words he might understand.

Mixing is important, it’s where you get ideas and inspiration but it’s also how you make friends and everyone needs a friend.