You forget how much you’ve missed a person until you see them again.

I spent most of the weekend in the company of an old friend who was back from Canada for a few days. I’ve known him for years, but haven’t seen him in about two.

Some backstory:
I met P through a friend about 8 years ago now. About 7 years ago I was moving house and put an ad on DAFT where I met C. We met up for a coffee and got on like a house on fire, she was Canadian, had an Irish sense of humour and loved her drink. One drizzly Patricks night I was heading out to meet P in the pub and brought C along with me.
Six years later they are now married and living in Canada with a gorgeous little daughter.

It sucks saying goodbye. All weekend we were saying it was just like P had never left, everyone fell into the familiar patterns of drinking and talking and coming up with stupid ideas on the back of beer mats that will never see the light of day. There are those friends whom you don’t see for an age, but when you do eventually meet again it’s just like yesterday. Last night was no different and I didn’t realise how much I’d missed those stupid chats until I was standing at the bus stop and realised that next weekend P wasn’t going to be around to drag me into Mulligans, or hold court at the bar in Walshes.

But it’s not all bad really, I was ORDERED to get my arse over for a holiday this year. So despite my attempts at saving money I’m going to have to put some aside for a short trip over to drink wine with C while we laugh at P. Cos, that’s what we always do.