Karen

This is another of my friends from undergraduate days.

Karen and I met on our very first day at university, became close friends and have stayed in touch ever since. In that time, she has survived my vegetarian cooking, a Spanish husband, two children and cancer; the latter recently. She is a grounded and wise friend and the consumer of half of all the four-finger Kit-Kats I ever bought on the Leeds campus.

On this day, we went out to Wakehurst Place in Sussex and spent the afternoon wandering the grounds and gardens, chatting about old times and new and trading gossip; there was also time for a rather lovely picnic.

As I took this picture, I was struck by how remarkably little she had changed in 29 years; I took off my rose-tinted specs just to make sure. Curiously, a couple of days previously, her parents had said the same about me and I realised bitterly that I must still be rubbish at losing weight.

Incidentally, note the neat reflection in the background, my first satisfactory one. Dumb luck, but what the . . . ?

Choon