I was sorry to learn, this morning, of the death of Alan Freeman. Although of a later generation, with my interest in sixties and seventies music I saw lot of footage of 'Fluff' in action over the years and used to listen to his show on the radio. He leaves a hole in the music world. Rest in Peace.

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!

I'm off out to Mass shortly so this is only going to be a short post, but I wanted to say publicly that I went to a beautiful wedding yesterday. I've been to a lot of weddings now, not the least my own, and I'm really finding a preference for weddings that come across as "personal" or "individual". I think that you can really tell when the bride and groom have been heavily involved in the planning because the wedding reflects their own idiosyncracies and their personalities. I think that Kris and Fran's wedding yesterday, which I was honoured to be a guest at, was just perfect. I can't claim to know them as well as I would like, but I very much suspect that even if their closest friends had sat down and planned the ideal wedding for them, they would not have come as close to the perfection that we experienced yesterday.

It does go without saying that the bride looked stunning, but I'll say it anyway. And the groom was also immaculate and managed to look completely comfortable and totally himself, something that not many grooms manage to pull off.

The ceremony was beautiful, I loved the concept of walking together from the church to the reception. The reception venue was stunning. I was extremely jealous... but that's the medievalist in me talking. I'd have loved to have stopped the reception and had a history lesson.

It was a delight to meet some of their friends and family. My biggest regret was that we had to creep out during the speeches to get our sleepy Dragonets home to bed. I trust that the rest of the evening continued as well as the rest of the day though and I offer my online congratulations to the newest Mr and Mrs Jenkins, who wake this morning as man and wife for the first time.

I'm glad to say that there are some recent photos now available for viewing on the Gallery, for those who are interested.

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been having a lot of comment spam lately and I found that it was becoming extremely time-consuming to remove it, especially given that my time is incredibly precious at the moment as I'm juggling school runs (which are actually walks, and take an hour as a round trip twice a day), caring for a two-year-old, housework, paperwork and, somehow, drafting the final chapter of my thesis. So Dragon Dada and I have decided to close off our blogs for comments once a post is older than a certain amount of time. This might deter new visitors who come across an old entry but then again I'm not convinced I get that many of them anyway! For the benefit of my regular visitor(s), however, I just wanted to point this out in case they were suddenly worried at being unable to comment (as if!).

And now back to clearing my inbox, so that I can delve into the mysteries of the Concilium in Monte Romarici...

I'm getting spammed really badly in the comments here at the moment and I've just accidentally deleted a whole batch of pukka comments by accident while despamming. So please don't think that it's anything personal if your comments have suddenly disappeared!

There's so much being said on this subject at the moment. There are so many issues and, to be frank, I don't intend to get into them all. I know that there are serious doubts as to the legality of the trial of Saddam Hussein, issues covered in detail here. I also am completely opposed to the death penalty, for a number of reasons, including religious ones. I also don't believe, however guilty Saddam Hussein is found to be, that this diminishes the wrongness of the invasion into Iraq or the atrocities that have also been committed by his enemies.

However, the point I would like to make is a slightly different one at this moment. Legal or not, I do believe that Saddam Hussein is guilty of a great number of crimes against humanity and against the Iraqi people, including genocide. (However guilty, he is still entitled to a fair trial.) Given the enormity of his crimes, why should he get off lightly - a few moments suffering and then it's all over. Even if the hanging takes an hour or so, that's a relatively short time. Leave aside the question of eternal punishment - if he merits that he will have that at the end of his life, regardless. What I would like to see is him to be locked up for the rest of his life and made to live every day of his life in prison, in solitude, in whatever suffering is possible without contravening his human rights, and making him pay day by day, moment by moment, in constant reminder for his crimes. So that we can stand up and say, "yes, what he did was wrong, and he is still paying for it." The enormity of these crimes cannot be wiped out in one moment.

My regular readers will recall that I follow the case of Augusto Pinochet in Chile. I personally have a friend who was tortured under Pinochet's regime. I know that Pinochet is old and frail, and probably won't live long to serve any prison term if he ever comes to trial, BUT the very fact of a trial being held and him being made to stand trial, would send a statement to the world that people will be held accountable. And this man should be held up as accountable for the rest of his life, however much of it he has left.

Recently, Ian Huntly, the Soham murderer, failed in a suicide attempt. I remember seeing the headline on one of the UK tabloids: "Better Luck Next Time". No! Why should this man, who committed a horrific crime and ended the life of two innocent children, be allowed to take an easy way out? Leaving aside the question of eternal punishment, again, which will happen anyway, why should this man be able to cut short his earthly punishment?

Like other serial killers, mass murderers, and those who commit atrocities whether it be against individuals or against races, Saddam Hussein and the others I have mentioned should absolutely NOT be allowed the easy and quick punishment that is death. This is not a punishment, it is a release. Leaving aside my own ethical stance on the death penalty, surely the enormity of these crimes mean that death is not enough. These people should be made to live with the consequences of their crimes for the rest of their lives.