Friends, how I love them.

I have tried to say this for the longest time. I always lose the words somewhere between my latent narcissism and my acute shyness. It is impossible to say what needs saying without losing myself in the various moments when something happened, then something else happened, then we smiled or some such shit. Anyway, let me give it one more try.

I remember when I first made an ass of myself with John. He told me, in that casual way of his, that his dad was indeed that Judge. That was after I had told him I thought the Judge needed to work on his judgments. They did not float my boat; not like that disgraced former anticorruption czar. Well anyway, we became firm friends. He's a dad now, twice over, and I must say, daddy-ness suits him. But then again, if you knew John, you'd see that this too was something that was meant to be in the way it should be. I am proud to call him my friend, though I am less a friend than an almighty headache.

Hiram is a whole other kettle of fish. He's a dad too, but that was years before when we were still trying to figure out what the School was supposed to be all about. He has a wicked sense of humour, sometimes a little too much on the risque side. But, like the ones in Texas say, different strokes for different folks. He is a legal eagle of no mean repute - if you are ever in the crosshairs of those pesky speed traps along Naivasha-Nairobi road, Hiram's your guy. He takes a perverse pleasure - yes! I said it! - a perverse pleasure in making fools of Boinnet's boys. I don't think they like him enough, but he's motor vehicle club thinks he's the bees' knees. So do I.

I'm still trying to work out when I even spoke to Leo and Maureen. Was it before they became Leo and Maureen? I don't know. It is definitely after that night that I spent longer than was normal on one of those really comfy stools at the invisible end of that place we like so much with the Three Barrels. They are one of the reasons why it seems as if men and women were meant to be men and women. They are sunshine and ice-cold beers. Thank God they don't think I am an idiot. That would just be awful. Awful! No...I haven't had them over for lunch yet. I don't have a house made for entertaining, though She doesn't think so, bless Her heart.

Jennifer and Liz were the first people I saw when I reported on the Eighth Floor. That first month was quite harrowing; I had no clue what I was supposed to do, or what I was supposed to say. They were remarkably caring and helpful. Funny too; you have to have a sense of humour to put up with my thousand-and-one inane questions about legislative sentences and whatnot. They've moved on, but they keep me in their orbit and that is a testament to the value they place on their friends. I wish I could do more, be more. Maybe this is the beginning.

Marion is the sweetest woman you will meet. You get a sense that she is ready to listen to your secrets without judgment or preconceptions. She is the glue that keeps the whole office together. Without her, I have a feeling we would be at sixes and sevens all the time. When she smiles, you know that the world is right side up. You have to meet her at least once in your life; it's the only way you will know that life is full of endless possibilities.

Tom is full of bombast, but not in a bad way. He is full of ideas and they always seem to end with him taking over the world, though he doesn't say so. He is the level-headed chief of the whole floor. He knows more about out line of work than anyone else I know. A bit scary when you are trying to get a word in edgewise, but an excellent counsellor when you need one. He is the Uber role model. He can write. He can argue. And he can negotiate the wings off a fly.

This inadequate post will not reveal the blessed feeling I get waking up in the morning because of them. I haven't said anything about Her, but you know why. She wouldn't appreciate that, much. Especially as I can't say much without digressing to matters to do with The Wiggle, which is a sight to behold. It doesn't bounce, my friends. It Wiggles. It needs a chapter all to itself. Enough, or She will use That Tone when she says "Oh Wow!" and then I will be in trouble. All you need know, for now, is that She just IS.