Baring my soul... a little.

I didn't have the easiest time at school. Looking back on it, I can see the positive aspects: my main problem was that I was never one to go along with the crowd for the sake of it. All I can assume is that this somehow communicated itself early to my classmates because from about the age of 6 I was ostracised by my class. I feel that I learnt from this period because it gave me the strength to stand by my convictions through thick and thin and to rely on my own opinions, rather than those of others. It also developed my imagination: if I ever make it as a writer I will owe it in part to all the children that refused to play with me and forced me to find ways to amuse myself in the playground.

Later on I got a couple of friends who, rather awkwardly, did not get on with each other. Furthermore, my closer friend of the two used to bully me - not in a very vicious way, but expecting me to fetch and carry for her and basically abusing the fact that she knew that if it weren't for her I wouldn't have any friends. I remember having a showdown with her when I told her I wouldn't stand for it any more and I'd rather be on my own (I think I was 10). She walked off to the other girls in the class who she was also on good terms with, one of whom promptly slapped my face (that kind of thing stays with you). My friend and I made it up a few days later and our friendship was far the better for it.

When I started secondary school, my beloved parents thoughtfully requested that I be put in a form with as few - or none - of my old classmates as possible. This done I, much to my amazement, made some good friends. We had our ups and downs over the next three years, and there were some bad times there too as I was never in the popular crowd and there were a couple of times when I made an ethical decision that forced me to take a stand against most of my year, which was pretty hard (incidentally, the second friend from primary school was the one who stuck by me through all of this).

The biggest challenge came at the end of third year when we moved. We went from East London to Aylesbury and as I was starting fourth year, the start of my GCSE course, my brother James was starting secondary school (which starts in second year in Aylesbury) and my father was starting a new job, the three of us moved ahead of the other half of our family, initially renting a small house during the week, and then abandoning that to commute daily until we moved, which wasn't until the summer term. Not being around in the evenings meant I was never available to socialise with new people. But harder still was the fact that I went into an all-girls school and was put into a form with some very cliquey and catty girls who didn't want anyone new in their group.

The two years that followed were probably the two most miserable of my life. I regularly "amused" myself by contemplating jumping out of windows and wondered which floor I'd have to be on to end it all. I would walk into a classroom and consider myself lucky if it fell silent. If I was unlucky, I'd catch a group of girls around my desk going through my things.

I was lucky at that time to make two friends, neither in my form, who carried through to the end of the school. One of whom is still one of my best friends now. They were really the only thing that kept me sane at that time.

Another thing I had to cope with then was leaving my old friends behind in East London. We had grown very close over the three years I'd known them and it was very painful to leave as I'd never before known the joy of being part of a group like that. I worked my hardest to keep in touch, ringing them, writing regularly.

This was when I began to learn some important lessons about friendships. I know now, but it was painful learning, that sometimes friendships come to a natural end. Some friendships are just based on seeing each other regularly and doing the same things. Once any distance comes between you the friendship doesn't last the pace. Some friendships go deeper and survive the separation. I remember getting very upset when friends who had promised to stay in touch, who I considered to be part of my close group, never wrote or phoned. I remember writing pleading, then accusatory letters to them. Neither worked, of course - that is the lesson I have learnt.

Sixth form was a lot easier as we were able to select our own forms. Taking a leaf out of my parents' book, I was careful to be in a form with none of my fourth and fifth-year classmates. In fact, I was lucky enough to be in a form with one of the two girls who had befriended me - the one I'm still in touch with. Those two years came very close to undoing the damage I suffered in the two previous years, and are the only reason I can look back on my time at that school without total bitterness. I had a lot of fun those two years. I met the girl who soon became my best friend - in a way that I realised I had never had a best friend before. We had slightly different perspectives on some things but basically our tastes, sense of humour, values and so much more were extremely close. We're still best friends now, even though we don't see each other that often. I had a lovely day with her last Sunday laughing our way around the Tate Modern, and last night an hysterical texting session because she'd seen someone that we used to know and all the old jokes came flooding back.

I remember when we left secondary school for university. I remember some of my Aylesbury friends worrying about who they'd lose touch with. With the benefit of experience, I told them that the friendships that mattered would last and the friendships that didn't last wouldn't matter. A few years later, one of them reminded me of that and said that she now realised how true it was.

All the same, it is never easy watching friendships go, and for me it's always an exciting and anxious time when I think new friendships may be starting. I know now that if a friendship is coming to its natural end that no amount of forcing will stop it happening. In fact, forcing things can just marr the memories. Over the last few years I've had quite a lot of old friends disappear on me. One moved to the North of England to start a new life and decided that I was a part of the old life that she didn't care about hanging on to. It hurt a little, but she was never one of my closest friends so I was able to be philosophical about it. I've seen her twice since, she pretends nothing has happened but we don't talk much: I'm not sure that "Hi! How are you? I have no idea since you cut me out of your life" is a good opener for a conversation.

Another friend moved to America a few years ago. He's a friend from university and I was incredibly fond of him. I didn't want him to go because I knew I'd miss him but I couldn't say that because it wouldn't have been supportive. Inevitably, I guess, over the years that he was out there we had less and less in common and now I've learnt that he's back in the UK but it's fairly obvious that he doesn't want to be in touch with us any more. I respect that decision and wouldn't wish him ill because of it, but I'm sad all the same. It's so hard watching a friend make a decision that you think is going to push you apart, but at the same time it is what makes them happy so you have to support them if you care about them.

On the positive side, new friends appear also. I've worried a little over recent years that I haven't been meeting many new people: I was stuck at home looking after my Dragonets and studying so not really getting out socially, other than with my old friends (incidentally, I'm still in touch with five or six of the people from East London). Last year, however, my Dragonet started nursery and she made a really good friend there who, to my delight, had a really nice mother. The mother and I used to walk home together and we got on really well. Dragon Dada and I got to know the father too and we get on very well with them both. Thankfully, since our house move, we've stayed in touch and we're meeting up with the mother and her daughters (who are the ages of our two) the weekend after this. It's quite exciting because I think that if we can only stay in touch then there's a lot of potential there. They're lovely people and we get on very well.

Now we're in our new house, new town, new parish and things are looking more positive than I could have envisaged this soon. I'm meeting a lot of mothers at the school, and have made friends with the mother of my eldest Dragonet's new best friend. The mother is French and we chat in that language. We get on very well and it's a pleasure to see her and catch up. We've even spoken on the phone a few times - really chatted, not just necessities. There are a couple of other mothers that I'm getting friendly with too. What's more, there seems to be a real culture of getting to know each other, encouraged by the school. The mothers of children in the reception classes are getting together for an evening out soon. I'm looking forward to it.

And at the church, I've now joined the choir and that has opened the door wide to a lot of new contacts. It's a big choir and they're very friendly and warm. Last night was a St Cecilia-tide Mass (she's the patron saint of musicians) - an intimate Mass with the choir and the priest, followed by drinks in the Presbytery with the priests. I had such a lovely time. It was a lovely Mass, I got to know a few new choir members (I haven't really met everyone yet), some who seem to be near my age. The priests are great too, very warm, good fun. One of them seems quite near my age too and Dragon Dada and I are looking forward to getting to know them better.

So I suppose that I've learnt a lot about friendships over the years. It never stops being sad when a friendship comes to an end, but at least I've learnt how not to make the ending unpleasant, and to see it coming so it's not such a shock. I think that moving house when we did, and the bad experiences at school have made me value my friends so much more, also, which is why it's so thrilling when I meet potential new friends.

In a few books that I've read, friends are defined as one's "family of choice". I do find there's a lot of overlap. I'm very lucky in that a lot of my family I would count as my friends, but I'm also very lucky in that a lot of my friends are as close as family to me.

So finally, let me thank them, my friends past and present (and in no particular order), for what they mean to me: thank you Chantal, Fiona, Emma, Alex, Dora, Cathy, Simon, Jonathan, Caroline, Carla, Vicki, Huw, Jo, Tim, Peter & Kirsty, Clare, Diana, Jacqui, Jane, Lynne, Silvana, Jenny, Kris & Fran, Ingrid & Luke, Kate & William, James, Andrew, Gerald, Jaki, Mathieu, Si, Lou, Nabeela, Sandra, Richard, Johnathan, David & Helen, Andrew, Adèle, Laura, Rachel, Mike, Paul, Alex, Mark, Grég, Tiphaine, Pierre, François, Marguerite & Simon, Claire & Andy, Ros & Ansar, Shim & Maria, Christie, Mimi, Sian, Gerry, Suzelle, Nadine, Elizabeth, Clare & Noel, Lara, and most of all James!