This is part of a new series of blogs entitled Words for Friends, in which I will try to acknowledge some people in my life for whom words of thanks are not nearly enough.
These living epitaphs to my true and lovely friends are published in a random order as fancy takes me.
This July I took a long overdue holiday with my wife Gill, in my old haunt of Chichester, West Sussex.
Whenever returning home – as I still call Sussex – I always made a point of catching up with one of my oldest friends.
Jayne and I met as teenagers while nursing together way back in 1978.
But any hope I may have had of a romantic attachment disappeared quickly when on our second date, and after a couple of beers and an attempted snog, she told me she was gay and lived happily with her partner Julie.
She was the first openly lesbian woman I had ever met – in a time when personal sexuality was more closely guarded.
I was gobsmacked and in typical 1970s’ misogyny I said something like: “How can you be gay, you are too attractive?”
Horrid words, which ought to have choked me, there and then.
But, there was something deeper between us and instead of romance, we became lifelong friends.
Over the next 30 years on my each visit to Sussex, we would meet for a beer and swap stories about the directions our lives had travelled and how much weight we had both gained!
While my life and career took my all over the UK, Jayne remained my constant point of return.
This summer I had not seen Jayne for over 10 years, so this holiday visit was going to be an extra special catch-up.
But, before I set off for the drive down south, I cried myself empty, when I discovered that Jayne had died some 30 months earlier, aged just 56.
Her partner Julie was with her to the end.
Time, life and death waits for no one.
But my friendship and memories of Jayne will always remain.