CIRCLE OF FRIENDS
When Elisa Roche’s parents moved abroad, at first she felt like she didn’t have family nearby. But, 15 years later, she’s realised that family actually comes in many different forms…
‘It’s when the big milestones come round that you can miss family most, but my friends rally then, too’
Iwas in my early 20s when my parents moved abroad and, at first, I didn’t mind. But I wasn’t really a grown-up yet. I soon realised I still needed my mum, and felt jealous when friends went home for the weekend for hearty meals and fresh laundry. While my parents started a new life in Cyprus, I moved into the little London flat that I’ve been in ever since. A couple of boyfriends tried to move in here and there but, mostly, I’ve been on my own for the past 15 years. The truth is, I do get lonely, especially when I see a picture-perfect family in a schmaltzy TV ad. That’s when I Whatsapp one of the many friends who now make up my modern family.
For me, ‘family’ is the bunch of mixed heritage, party-loving, kind-hearted humans who I know I can lean on when I need them the most. Jamie Oliver is one of them (we met when I was 23 and one of his Fifteen trainee chefs). Since then, he’s become like my big brother – he gave me a break, supports my career and even offers advice on my love life. Here’s a recent reassuring missive about my lack of boyfriend, ‘Listen, you’re beautiful, fun, a bit bonkers, kind and talented. But you know what? For whatever reason, everyone finds these things in their own time if they just keep being positive. I’m surrounded by friends in the same boat and it all works out in the end, babe. Promise.’
Other members of my urban family include the naughty ‘sisters’ who all work in media who I call when I’m in need of laughter and a boozy night out. Then, when I need some maternal love in my life, if I’m sick and need looking after, there’s the wonderful women who live above and below me like a glorious mum sandwich. Jenny from upstairs moved in just after me. Over the years, she’s often knocked on my door with a plate of dinner because she’s ‘noticed me not eating properly’, or popped down to vet potential boyfriends. She even once dispatched her partner with a ladder because I had drunkenly locked myself out for the third time in a year. Downstairs, Nagina, already a mother of three, always makes extra portions of curry especially for me and brings me back beautiful colourful saris and dainty slippers from her trips home to Pakistan.
Of course, it’s when the big milestones come round – weddings, birthdays, Christmas – that you can miss family the most, but my friends rally then, too. I once spent Christmas with my friend Andrea’s family, calling her mum ‘Granny’ all day while her beautiful twin girls waved their Sylvanian Family animals at me shouting, ‘Auntie Leesha!’ Nobody batted an eye when my own hairy child, Dolly the mini sausage dog, ran off with Rudolph’s mince pie and then peed on the new carpets. ‘Let’s make this an annual thing,’ boomed Andrea’s drunk husband Duncan. ‘Leesh, we love you. You’re family!’
It’s in moments like these that I can look around a room and feel very lucky. My family might not look like everyone else’s or be made up of blood relatives, but these are the people I’ve chosen and who love me. And that’s something I feel proud of.