Friendeavours

i’ve written lots in this column about close friendships and how they’ve been affected by the pandemic. But it struck me the other day that it’s not all about the inner circle. What about the outer circle? What about the outer-outer circle? All those people we used to see regularly as we went about our ‘normal’ lives. The people we’d say hi to and maybe exchange a brief catch-up with. The ones who might not know our parents’ names but know our favourite drink, or film, or place we’ve visited. In the Long Long Ago Times.

Now, as we near 12 months of coronavirus, a year since the first lockdown, a year since we’ve seen some of our most beloved people in the flesh, it’s worth remembering the other people who make up the fabric of our lives. ‘Wampeter’ was coined by Kurt Vonnegut to describe ‘an object around which the lives of many otherwise unrelated people may revolve’. Babies are wampeters. And bars and bands. When I think about my favourite bar and restaurant in London – Quo Vadis on Dean Street – I think of the bar staff I used to chat with as I waited for friends, or treated myself to a solo working lunch. I didn’t know that the last time I saw them would be the last. Will they be there when hospitality reopens?

We have ways of maintaining our close friendships that, while often frustrating and challenging, aren’t such a huge step away from our normal methods. A Friday night meet-up becomes a Zoom wine without too much hassle. But what do we do with the lesser, smaller friendships that never had varied lines of communication, but still formed part of the structure of our lives? I can’t Zoom my favourite bar staff. I don’t have their numbers. I’ve looked for them on social media and then felt weird.

Friends of mine who worked in offices have said they miss the casual encounters by the water cooler, in the sandwich shop queue, or seeing the same person at the bus stop in the morning. These acquaintances in our outer circle are often the way we meet romantic partners (ladies and gents, I give you Hinge), get job offers, and get involved in new recreational activities, too. When I think of my social life, it’s now a very small group of people in the foreground, and behind them a hazy, grey hinterland, people in masks who cross to the other side of the street to give us both space.

A recent article in The Atlantic suggested this could lead to the loss of a sense of community, saying that friendships, and our ability to make them at all levels, are a barometer of culture. As humans we need to know that we are seen, and seen from all angles, in all different ways. Close-up, far away, in soft focus, in harsh daylight. The way other people reciprocate what we put out into the world is how we recognise and confirm each other and ourselves. Friendship is a measure of human health. It is the basis of society itself.

‘You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone,’ sang Joni Mitchell. Well, when it comes to a varied social life, it’s been gone a long time now. But when it comes back, boy, will we cherish it. I can’t wait to see those bar staff and buy them all a drink. When we see all of our people again, won’t we appreciate every moment. Savour every word. Relish every last little anecdote. That’ll really be living.

‘As humans, we need to know that we are seen – from all angles and in different ways’