‘I’VE JOINED CLUBS TO KEEP FRIENDS AND MAKE NEW ONES’
Grant Feller, 51
Afew years ago I spent a long weekend rebonding with an old friend, skiing in the Alps. Stuck on a chairlift, we started going through school and university friends, the people who we grew up with. “Oh yeah, I’ve lost contact with him,” confessed my friend. “I never see him anymore,” I added. We spent the next five minutes admitting to each other that all the people we genuinely once cared about had been lost in the ether, victims of our inability to stay in touch. By the time we were back on our skis, we felt more alone than we had at the bottom of the mountain.
Since that moment, I’ve resolved to make an effort. My solution has made me feel more youthful: I’ve become a member of multiple clubs with the express aim of keeping my friends, building bridges with those who have been abandoned, and meeting new people.
I’ve rediscovered a spontaneity that lay dormant for too long. Most recently, one friend began a “supper club”, not a sad attempt to indulge in drunken misbehaviour but a wonderful opportunity to meet new friends while learning to cook. And get drunk.
I’ve joined two book clubs, one fiction in which we two men (friends) share the dining table with five fearsomely intelligent women who, though we mixed in the same circles, I would never call friends. Until now. The other, factual, book club sees 10 blokes seeking to educate ourselves about a portion of history while hoping that no one will ask them for proof that they’ve actually finished the chosen tome.
Then there’s poker night in which we incompetently find our way to winning upwards of £150 through a mixture of brazenness and luck. The cards aren’t nearly as important as the time we spend with each other.
On weekends, I’m an enthusiastic member of tennis and football clubs which provide an opportunity to mock each other’s inadequacies in a competitive environment. Mostly, though, it’s about bonding. It’s amazing how powerful just 90 minutes a week can be for friendship.
Every other Friday, the “Tap” networking group of 50-somethings dealing with post-redundancy blues meets in a local pub of the same name to drink nothing more potent than a strong macchiato, while plotting how our multiskilled consultancy could earn us all a fortune, if only we had a client. None of them were friends, all of them now are. The relationships have been forged from a shared purpose, grim though that may once have been.
It used to be that getting older meant safe routines: seeing the same people, doing the same things, holidaying in the same places. Much more empowering, for me, has been to take control of my life by joining up to do something different, find new experiences, make new friends – and remind myself of the ones that matter most.
‘I’ve rediscovered a spontaneity that lay dormant for too long’