Princess Normal

My Dear Fellow,

I spent tonight at Henrick's with Princess Normal, as usual it was a brilliant night. We spent most of the evening laughing, even if there was the odd pause when we'd both stop and feel a bit sad. But neither of us wanted to linger on it. Instead we both studied the menu even though we both know we always have the fish and chips.

While we were eating, the Princess told me all about how she loves train travel, of a recent brilliant family day out, all about her friends, and how she became a diffferent person when she worked behind a bar (because it's like a stage). She told me the sad tale of Daphne the Family Hamster, and about her hen-weekend and Prince Normal's stag do. We talked a lot about how much she's been enjoying writing and taking pictures lately, and how she threatened to subvert a manager's "inspirational" message wall by drawing a willy and balls up there.

I contributed to the intellectual chat by talking about the daytime tv adverts I've seen recently. Especially the one about women who seem DELIGHTED to have "sensitive bladders" because it means they get to wear absorbent knickers, allowing them to - in the advert at least - have a great time laughing with their mates and secretly WEEING all over the place at the same time.

"Of course," said the Princess, "that would be brilliant! Imagine wearing those on a night out. Usually after you've 'broken the seal' you end up spending more time in the wazzerie than at the bar."

She is ever-practical, as always. But it occurred to me that I never really do her justice when I describe her to you. I think I make it sound like it is all fanny-chat but that is not the case*. She first popped up on my radar about 7 years ago when we were working on the same project. We were at one of those horrific stand-up meetings being chaired by a particularly happy-clappy-hoorah-for-the-company type.

HAPPY-CLAPPY: So my progress for yesterday was that I spent the day redesigning the database, and today I'll be following up on that with the DBA. What about you Princess?
PRINCESS: Well my progress for yesterday was that I wrote and tested a new program. But today I'm going to have to re-write it because SOMEONE redesigned the entire database (fixes Happy-Clappy with her best Toxic Death Stare).

"Who IS this woman?" I remember thinking. "And why are we not best friends yet?"

Later that year, I was working for Flamboyant Italian Manager and I needed another developer to help me out. There were two available choices - the Princess (who only worked on a part-time basis) or Roger the N0b (who was a n0b on a full-time basis).

It wasn't a difficult decision to make.

Flamboyant Italian LOVED it. He loved being "The Fixer". "Ey buddy! I get thee Princess for you!" he beamed. It was like he was my harem-keeper or something. But the Princess is TERRIFIC to work with, she's incredibly productive, very accurate and just a pleasure to chat to. She told me all about her family, but her stories were always prefaced with, "Look, you don't have kids and you're probably not interested and that's okay, but this story is funny..."

And of course she would tell a great story. Like the one about the time her daughters asked her for a baby sister and she refused on account of she wasn't about to "shoot another one of THOSE out of my fanny" and so the girls then made a full-size baby sister out of paper and coloured it in and spent the rest of the day holding hands with it on the couch. Or the time she made the mistake of telling her daughters that their nana had a tapeworm which resulted in them at first CRYING with laughter and then making up the "nana's got worms up her bum" song.

She was also very kind; one week I got left on my own when Flamboyant Italian, The Princess and Sudoku John all took the same week off. She bought me a lovely tin of truffles to keep me company. And we weren't even proper friends at that point. That's just the sort of person she is.

After that project ended we got separated which was a drag. Insult to injury; they moved Roger the N0b into the desk next to me. But shortly afterward The Princess and I started going to the films together, usually followed by the pub. And sometimes we didn't bother with the film. I remember very well that first night at the pub together. I don't know if her perception was the same as mine but I strongly felt like she was the Best Friend I'd not met yet. It was eerie. Like we were catching up after a 42-year absence on my part.

I've only experienced that 2 other times in my life. Once when I was 11 with Duncan McNaughton who was my best mate throughout high school and once with you.

Over the last 6 years, my friendship with the Princess has deepened and it's not all frivolity. We've told each other things that you could only tell a best mate. How we really feel, what makes us happy, what brings us down and those stupid silly little voices in our heads that make us laugh but we could never share with a stranger who would think us ODD.

(The Princess sometimes talks to herself in a comedy Welsh accent. Just saying.)

But what I've never been able to fully explain in emails or conversations is how her face creases with delight when she's said something extra-rude and she has managed to shock me. Or how her eyes glisten and soften when she talks about her family and friends. How she curls her hair around her fingers when thinking. How she sometimes seems able to answer a question that was forming in my head before I've even said it out loud. How she loves "The Wizard of Oz" because "Dorothy had the best mates." How she can't help but sing to musicals, dance to 1980's pop music or cry when she watches animal programmes. How OCD she is in her cooking. How she keeps EVERYTHING in Tupperware containers. That she too, loves the ritual of tea and has an adorable tea-cosy. How much she WUVS her doggie - yes she does, yes she does! And how she delights/horrifies her daughters by doing outrageous dance-moves in front of the kitchen window.

She ended last night by paying for all the dinner and all the drinks. "You're my b*tch now," she informed me. Because it was the Princess, I happily submitted to selfies with her, and she told me she also had a lock of my hair to remind her of me.

I rubbed my hand across my #1 shaved head. "I don't have locks," I said (stumbling right into it).

"Who said it was from your head?" she asked, claiming she had "roofied" me. And I laughed so hard I wished I was wearing absorbent middle-aged-lady-knickers.

I may not be able to explain the Princess, but I do appreciate her. If you ever make your way back to Scotland I hope you get the chance to meet her. You will love her too, I'm sure. I recommend Henrick's. They do a terrific fish supper and the company cannot be bettered.

Parsones

* Sometimes we talk about bums.