Companionship – do it in person.

Writing a letter to a friend is an endeavour which carries with it significant pitfalls. 
Keeping in touch by mail is a purely intellectual activity, involving essential prerequisites such as coherent construction of sentences containing verbs; the development of a logical sequence of thoughts and concepts; and a beginning, middle and end, the latter preferably containing a summary of the basic contents and arguments contained in the body of the communication.                                                                                 
These prerequisites obviously require intellectual input, an essential condition which precludes such activity (viz., letter writing) when one's level of cerebral activity is limited to brain-stem reflexes - such as after a few wee drams, or basically most of the time when one reaches the status of being an old bastard.                                                                                                                                                Letter writing is also fraught with pitfalls. Words have the propensity to obscure meaning. Take the simple phrase "go fuck yourself, you old prick" for example. This may be used as an appropriate friendly verbal response to the question "your shout?" in the event that it really isn't, but is probably not helpful in a letter.

Emphasis is also a problem. It can be expressed in writing by the use of bold typeface, underlining or italics, but, let's face it, looks a bit pretentious. And exclamation marks are the refuge of the humourless.                   
It is so much more effective in conveying the importance of a statement if it is accompanied by an increase in volume, a red face and some spittle.

Writing also limits the expression of emotions, such as those which may be conveyed by winking, leering and eyebrow-raising. Such emotions are actually quite difficult to express by arrangement of the letters of the alphabet on a page (although the concealment of autonomic reactions - such as sweating, blushing or an unanticipated inappropriate erection - is a major advantage of communication by mail).

How much easier it is in person when it is possible to share a quiet beer with a friend, simply for companionship - which is a pretty tranquil activity, conversation being an optional extra. The literary equivalent of this would be to send a letter comprising two blank pages, although this would be unlikely to convey the same conviviality.  

                                                                                       

A more accurate equivalent would be two pages with just a couple of words here and there:

"Great day, eh." 



"Aye"

"Same again?"

"Cheers, my friend."


                                                                                                            


After 73 years of life, I can reflect on many warmly remembered acquaintances - from my schooldays in a large rural town, from 6 years at a university college, from 5 years at a major metropolitan teaching hospital, from 6 years in a large rural practice, from 19 years in a small rural practice and from 7 years at a large hospital in Scotland - all of whom I would be delighted to meet up with again.

And I've got four friends. Friends that I could rely on to drop everything and come to my aid if I needed them. 
One lives in Scotland, one lives in the town of my childhood, one lives in a rural village in the Northern Tablelands and one lives in the small coastal village I call home.*

And I reckon that's pretty bloody good.



(*And I'd like to say, Bill, Al, Ned and Freddo, you can rely on me to do likewise.)