Friends like these

Friends like these

The other day I had a phone call from my friend.  “All right, pissflaps” she said, “Just a quickie.”  Inside I groaned, I always do, because this meant I had to perform miracles in computer support for someone who is utterly clueless.  And who uses the word pissflaps as a term of endearment.  She described the symptoms of her latest technological fail.  “Press F11.” said I.  Problem solved.  “Cheers, minge, laters.”  Lovely.

Now, it can be pretty tiresome when people want you to help them with their computing difficulties but in some cases I don’t mind.  My friend really doesn’t have a scooby about it despite repeated attempts on my part to teach her the odd thing.  You’d think that just by using the computer she’d pick up a few things but, no, she’s surprisingly resistant. I helped her decide which computer to buy and I put it together for her.  I was there when the man from the cable company came to install broadband and I made sure it was all working.  I’m nice like that.  So it may surprise you to learn that she’s one of my friends from prison.  And in fact I was still in prison when I went to set up her computer for her, and I used one of my town visits to go there.

I’ve mentioned before the stereotypical people I was expecting in prison and the fact that although they were in evidence there were far fewer than I expected.  But going to prison I never imagined I’d make actual friends, the like of whom I’d stay in touch with even when it was all over.  But I have.  OK, so none of them live anywhere near me and I never actually see them but the odd phone call, text message or chat on MSN or facebook is enough to know that they’re still there.  And still calling me biatch.

A lot of people came and went, the vast majority of those I came into contact with had sentences of less than 18 months so there was always a high turnover.  Although you can have a passing friendship with someone you know for 3 months you don’t really expect to hear from them again.  Maybe the odd letter when they’ve first gone home but it soon peters out, especially as most people want to forget they ever were in prison.  No, the ones I had genuine friendships with were those with longer sentences that were always there at the same time as me, some of whom are still inside.  And we had a laugh, we made the most of things, we watched TV, ate quality snacks, played cards and took the mickey out of each other.  This will sound bad (especially to Daily Mail readers) but most of the time it felt like we were at boarding school.  Not that I’ve been to boarding school but I do know people that have, and this is how I’d imagined it to be.  There was a camaraderie among us and I’m sure it’s one of the reasons why I came out with all my faculties intact.  Yes they are intact, how very dare you.

So next time the phone goes and the dulcet tones of my friend demand assistance I will happily oblige, after all it was partly her help that got me through it all.  And I’ll call her shithead.  In the nicest possible way.

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