Flowers and Friendship

On Wednesday I met a friend at The Commercial Tavern in Shoreditch – a funky little establishment just up from Spitalfield’s Markets with baby blue and fairy painted shutters, papier-mâchéd walls (celebrating old covers of Interview magazine) and an eclectic mix of floral-printed, wooden chairs and tables and a chaise lounge for good measure! My cider was flat, and warm, but the company was great. Mag-friend bought me roses.

Just because, she wanted to.

I think, with the exception of flower days back in high school, I could count the number of times I have received flowers on one hand. This is by no means a woe-is-me statement, I hold myself largely responsible. For some reason – unbeknownst even to myself – I feel the need to tell my boyfriends that I don’t like flowers… But, the truth is, I’m sure I really do.

When I left Bazaar my editor handed over a bunch of flowers (that she’d been given by some-designer-or-another) as a ‘thank you’ for my nine months of hard labour… also because she was to be away that weekend and didn’t fancy arriving home to rotting vegetation. They were lovely, and likely expensive, but I couldn’t get out of my head that I wasn’t their intended.

Fast-forward, a week after starting my new job, the recruitment company sent to my office a gorgeous bunch of chrysanthemums and lilies to congratulate me on my first week. And to be brutally honest, it felt great to be singled out. To be seen to be special. Unfortunately, that day coincided with the weekend I was moving apartment, so said-flowers were accidentally left at Boyfriend’s old flat. They didn’t even get the chance to wilt.

But Wednesday’s roses were all mine and there’d be no leaving them at the bar, passing on to a friend or letting Boyfriend ‘accidentally’ throw them out with the garbage. I cradled them all the way home, carefully trimmed their drying ends, pruned their leaves and placed them in the nicest vase we had – a mucky glass one with a chipped lip! Then I set them upon our window sill, with ample sunlight and the view of our garden behind. Picture perfect.

Mag-friend’s Marks & Spencer baby pink roses, bought on a whim and sprinkled with kindness made not only my day, but my week.

I’ll have to let Boyfriend know about my change of heart!