CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

Who are the people that lift you up and root you? For Fearne Cotton, it’s a mix of school pals, celebrities and her 70-year-old pen pal Bonny

Fearne Cotton on the people who make her feel good

‘If I click with someone, I click’

The first friend I made was a boy who lived locally to me, named Carl. He had huge black-rimmed spectacles held together by tape, and together we’d squash ants and eat party rings. I’ve always had close friends of both sexes and never paid much attention to our differences. If I click with someone, I click.

Since then, my pack has always been an eclectic mash of ages, backgrounds and personalities, which has given me a plethora of angles to look at life from. They’re the ones with whom I’ve listened to a Walkman stuffed up my sleeve during maths lessons and drank out of treasure-chest-shaped receptacles in questionable nightclubs. They have cradled me through heartbreak, texted me when I really needed it, enveloped me in mountains of love and helped me raise my children with kind words and support. At school, our gaggle of girls was formed in Year 7 and, to this day, we are knitted tightly together through our history and roots. We share a north-west London intonation, finish each other’s sentences and know the names of every boy each of us lusted over at high school. The gift they’ve consistently given me is laughter. Becky, aka Babs, regularly delivers the most rib-tickling anecdotes and has nearly brought on premature labour for a few of us. No matter where any of us live, what we have going on or how often we see each other, our bond will never be broken.

Another long-lasting pal is Kye, who offers the male perspective on all of my worries. He’s the yin to my yang and has, in equal measures, danced me off nightclub floors without spilling a drop and nursed me through heartache with trips to the countryside and long blustery walks. He’s a rock and someone I know I can always count on.

Then there’s the friend who dilutes my imposter syndrome; it was a real ‘click’ moment at 15 when I high-fived a certain Mr Reggie Yates. Our working-class roots and shared sense of not really fitting into the TV world led to a friendship that’s lasted more than two decades. He understands the weirdness of our job and I know we can chat without judgment. He’s been at every birthday, every tricky corner and is always reminding me to stay true to myself.

There are many others, too, such as Laura, my friend for adventure, who has always pushed me to be spontaneous and stay up until the stars twinkle. Together we have watched sunsets over Mexican seas and celebrated birthdays with Sangria. Alison, who I don’t see or speak to every week but who I will never stop thanking because she stepped up when it really mattered, scooping me up one rainy evening and driving me into London to see a doctor she’d found, as she knew that I was stuck with a giant black cloud overhead.

I now understand how courageous this move was.

Then there’s my dear pen pal Bonny (I know, so 1990s, right?). She’s my all-year-round email buddy who offers up real-life hugs on our yearly trip to see her in Ibiza. She is in her 70s, lives on a dusty hill in a fairy-tale house adorned with wind chimes and crystals and always has wisdom to dish out. Our birth place, age and speed of life has little to do with our bond, which again proves to me that friendship is so much more than common ground. On those hazy, hot summer nights on her island, she regales me with stories of her past, but never patronises or pretends to know it all. She is curious, has questions and wants to find all the answers as desperately as I do. There are also the mates who have become godparents to my children; their advice, guidance and love helps in insurmountable ways. Gok, JJ, Heidi and Sinead are always at the end of the phone if I feel flummoxed by my children’s behaviour, or if I am indeed the one acting like the child. Although Gok did once buy Honey the ugliest, hugest Peppa Pig kitchen, which I still haven’t forgiven him for but, beyond that, he’s a pretty perfect pal.

There are, of course, many others, too many to mention (though I wish I could!), but I’ve realised that, as different as all of these beauties are, the quality that links them all is that they see the real me even when

I don’t. And for that I am very grateful.