Carly met Sandra in a chateau between St Jean D’Angely, Saintes, and Cognac. It was on a knitting holiday in the French countryside. That was in 2008, and Carly was not even called Carly then. She was firmly Caroline. They have been firm friends ever since. Especially as they went through divorces pretty much simultaneously. They had been on many more knitting holidays since then with other friends; to France, Scotland and Israel. But their friendship really flourished during lockdown. Carly has that nifty Trainline app to book her rail travel. So, it is easy to work out how many times she has been to Long Buckby since late 2020. 19 times. Sometimes even twice a month. But usually not quite as often as that. They have their customs and rituals. More recently, Talulah, the puppy, has come to be part of that routine. Friends are often bemused that Carly has been there so many times. “Where even is Long Buckby?” they ask. But it is less about Long Buckby and more about her friendship with Sandra and supporting each other during the lonely times of lockdown. Sometimes, Carly would have to sneak into the house in the dead of night, so that no nosy neighbours would report either of them. Not everyone had such a loose and changeable definition of a ‘Covid social bubble’ as Carly. And always best to avoid Sandra’s annoying neighbour who is forever in the garden fattening up the local birds with far too much food.
The train to Long Buckby is direct from Euston. And pretty fast, but Carly never really understands why it has to stop in Northampton for 20 minutes. In the middle of the journey. It is always planned and really tedious. But there are no changes, and it is only just over an hour. So, Carly will suffer that waste-of-time bit in the middle.
Usually, but not always, Sandra drives to the station to pick Carly up. She tries to travel light, but when, aghast, Sandra did not have any feather pillows, half of her luggage was a pillow. Now Carly has bought Sandra two, so she and other guests can enjoy these superior pillows. They go for the same walk every evening via the duck pond. And in December they rate all the Christmas decorations of houses they pass into various categories of ‘naffness’. It is just incredible, not only what people will spend, but the depths of depravity totally uncool households will run to. Blow-up Santas that need generators to keep them topped up. Whole gardens representing the nativity scene with donkeys, kings, baby Jesuses and an assortment of other random and unconnected animals. It seemed every house in the village had fairy lights. Sandra only had some very tasteful decorations that Carly totally approved of. Lucky that Sandra is so stylish, or Carly might have to tell her a thing or two.
If possible, they would start the day with a lovely coffee in bespoke mugs. The shop ‘Born and Bread’ kept them just for the two of them. And sometimes, when they thought no one was watching them, they would just have to sample the creamy patisserie range. Shhhhhhhhhhhh. And they would burn off some of the calories with frantic knitting. Carly and Sandra laugh at this. No amount of speed-knitting will make any headway into these calories. They are not knitting on the run. Or skiing whilst crocheting. They are sitting down, putting the world to rights, whilst clickety clacking away. They often do this in the evenings with large goblets of sumptuous luxury gin and bespoke tonic water.
Carly would often go midweek when Sandra was working online with clients. Carly would find it difficult not to put notes under the door to distract Sandra from the serious business of running workshops, teaching her service-users (what a dreadful term muses Carly) various mindfulness techniques. Sandra mostly did the cooking, and it was fish pie if Carly was given a choice. And Carly would go to the local Co-op to fill up on Vino Blanco. As a special treat they might pop into one of the two local Indian eateries. Carly would also help by doing the washing up if she could. And annoying Sandra by putting any metal objects on the magnetic knife rack by the back door. Including keys, knives, spoons and whisks. Sandra did not use this useful gadget as she felt burglars might help themselves to sharp and dangerous implements when they broke in via the back door. Carly would roll her eyes. Long Buckby isn’t that sort of place. But Sandra was rather risk averse and turned off all the sockets (apart from the fridge) before she went to bed. Sigh, sigh, Carly thought to herself. Are there really housefires nowadays from sockets? Highly unlikely. And Carly is not at all risk averse. Shame, Sandra is a bit…
Both Sandra and Carly are avid readers. But Carly just doesn’t understand why Sandra isn’t so into the knitting fiction books she loves. They both know knitting is so good for their mental health. But only Carly reads Debbie Macomber and Rachael Herron. These are easy and light reads. Always with a happy ending. Just what Carly likes when she isn’t reading historical romantic fiction.
And whilst Sandra and Carly have lots in common, only Sandra is obsessed with plants. Carly had a love affair with tradescantia during lockdown, but Sandra is the real ‘Plant McCoy’. She has a well-stocked garden, a small greenhouse for seedlings in her lean-to, and an allotment. Sandra brings her plants in and out, day and night. She really cares for them. But unfortunately, the baobab tree Carly brought her from Senegal isn’t doing so well. This isn’t surprising when you consider the difference in climate between West Africa and the Midlands. But it’s not dead yet. And if it’s not dead yet, maybe, just maybe, it might thrive.
Sandra likes dogs and had several for many years. And so, she was up for Talulah staying. At first, she had to get a crate, but lately Talulah slept downstairs. When she first went there was a number two in the living room. The last time Carly was quite relaxed as Talulah was thoroughly toilet trained. Or was she? When Carly went to bed her feet seemed damp, and Talulah had marked her bed (the one with the top-notch feather pillows) with a long wet wee. Carly was too embarrassed to tell Sandra and so she slept in the bed, nonetheless. She is rarely ashamed about anything, but she was in this case. Sandra was totally non-plussed and was happy to help Carly wash all the soggy and smelly bedding the next morning.
Sandra and Carly have even more in common. Their oldest sons are both maths boffins and work in finance. And both their ex-husbands are with new partners. Surprise. All the men they know seem to get into new relationships the moment the previous one is concluded. So annoying…
Carly has some other favourite things to do in Long Buckby. One is to have a bath in Sandra’s house. Sometimes twice a day. But always once. With opulent lavender bath salts whilst burning incense and candles and listening to a podcast. And in the evening, they always watch a film. Something they both fancy on iPlayer. This is not always successful and sometimes they have had to curtail this if they are too bizarre or scary. They especially like watching Dolly Parton. She is a sort of role model. But certainly not in the physical sense. Sandra has sensible brown hair. And Carly’s hair is silver. Very grey actually. It does take dye easily. But the amount of hair Dolly has. Well, combining both of their hair and multiplying it by a factor of seven won’t get you anywhere near Dolly’s luscious blond curls.
Sandra does sometimes come down to London to see Carly. When she lived in Highbury, Sandra would come with secateurs and would get busy pruning. But now Carly has shifted to the Stow with a paved-in garden, there is little need for trimming Carly’s smattering of plants in window boxes or pots against the purple garden wall. And anyway, Carly loves coming up to see Sandra, and this works for both of them. They know their time together is somewhat limited as Carly is planning to move to Jaffa, Israel and Sandra to Berwick-upon-Tweed, just by the Scottish border. But for now. It works well. Good old destination Long Buckby.
