About Friends.

The Greek philosopher Epicurus (341-270 BCE) is much misunderstood today. His name is used to stand for lavish meals, heavy drinking, and indulgence in every pleasure. In fact he took a dim view of all of that, and was inclined to the simpler pleasures, one of the most important of which was sitting in his garden talking with his friends. And as he recommended drinking cold water, there would not have been any headaches the day after. For Epicurus, friends were the greatest pleasure and were not to be done without.

In Ancient Rome the rivals to the Epicureans were the Stoics. But in fact the Stoics too have been much misunderstood: Stoics and Epicureans had much in common. The Stoic philosopher Seneca liked to quote Epicurus approvingly when writing to his pupil Lucretius. And one of the things that they had in common was the importance of friends. Seneca compared a man without friends to a man without one of his hands. I've just had the pleasure of meeting up with two of my oldest friends, Gregory and Harry.

It all began in 1967 when I met Gregory in the King William IV in Hampstead. He was friendly, warm-hearted and funny. A tall man, frequently clad in a bright red sweater, he was inclined to hold court in the pub on a Saturday evening, telling stories, laughing and drinking a decent amount of Courage Director's.

Gregory is an organist, rather a fine one, certainly the best organist I have known personally, with the.possible exception of David Nield. We'd sometimes have a pint or two in the North Star in Finchley Road, then we'd go together to the church where he played. Sometimes I'd sit on the organ stool and turn the pages of his music for him, sometimes I'd lie on a pew in the dark and let the sounds of Gregory's music cascade round me. I'd grown up in a musical house, but one with rather conservative tastes. Gregory played Bach's organ music for sure, with which I was reasonably familiar already. But I had the delight of sitting on the stool turning while Gregory sent the dazzling notes of the Toccata from Widor's 5th Organ Symphony cascading round the dark and silent church. He introduced me to the wonderful music of Buxtehude and Rheinberger and others too. In the summer of the following year Gregory introduced me to someone who had a seemingly permanent smile, Harry.

One of the best memories of my entire life stems from Harry. He had contacts at Jodrell Bank and on the night of the moon landing we were there, with all the famous scientists, in front of an enormous screen, to watch the pictures from the moon and Neil Armstrong stepped off the ladder.

But it wasn't all highbrow stuff. Many a Sunday night the three of us would cram into Harry's 2-seater sports car and drive across London to, sometimes, the Vauxhall Tavern, or more often the Union Tavern in Camberwell, to be entertained by the raucous comedy of London's drag scene – Lee Sutton, Alvis & Odell, Pussy & Beau and others. 

We had some adventures, we didn't always agree, but overall, the three years I was a regular in that pub with my two friends count, along with my days as a theology student when I lived in Streatham, as the happiest of my life. It's 42 years since we went our separate ways. Greg became a teacher, and now is still in demand to help youngsters struggling with A-level Physics. Harry's career in computing took him to the USA where he now lives. I continued to study, earning my living as best I could, because I cannot settle with unanswered questions in the field that most interest me.

Meeting again in the same bar, on more or less the same spot, having a few beers and talking to each other about the things that interest us somehow distilled the happiness of the late sixties into one afternoon of my late sixties with two people I treasure and whose company I enjoy even (maybe especially) when we're all expressing our views at the same time, and not always on the same topic.

It wasn't all fun. We had the fallings out one expects as well as the good times. We've all acquired the troubles of age:

Ollie: I'm interested in Richard Price
Harry: You'll have to speak up, I'm getting deaf
Gregory: (leaning forward and cupping his ear) Pardon?
And three rather elderly men fall about laughing at Gregory's weak joke.

But we continue to like each other, to enjoy each other's company, and to value what we each have to say, even when the other two are wrong. That's what friendship is about. Epicurus and Seneca were right. There is nothing more valuable in the world, no pleasure greater, than time spent with friends. I am so grateful for all my friends, and especially to Gregory & Harry for making the time to have a few beers together in the old familiar way and at an old familiar place.