I have just read the most beautiful book by the Irish writer, Andrew O’Hagan, called On Friendship which fell into my hands at just the right time, as I have found books often do to me. In one of its eight brief chapters, he writes sadly about the threat to pubs and cafés, writing that “I fantasize that the pub and the café might again become the crucibles of friendship!” I love acknowledging that the many good friendships I have made over my morning coffees in local cafés since I moved to an area of London filled to the brim with cafes and interesting people sitting in them, have become good crucibles of friendship, as they surely have.
The book is a beautifully written paean to the power of friendship in all its forms, and has made me reassess the role of my friends in my life, a role they have increasingly had to assume since I suffered my recent bout of ill-health. I am not somebody who enjoys being helped by other people, feeling that this makes me a burden to them. And I realise now, particularly after reading this book, that I am more of a burden when I try to shrug off my friends’ loving attempts to help me as I struggle along. This book has helped me see how precious my friendships are, and how stupid and ineffectual of me to deny my friends’ help, instead of welcoming it.
Reading this book has taught me a lot about myself, and I hope at the same time it has made my friends’ attempts to help me somewhat easier.
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