I might have told you this story before – if so, apologies – but its retelling will let me set this column off on the right course. I was working for Time Out magazine in London back when its offices were in Covent Garden. A journalist employed on a TV show in Manchester had arranged to meet my boss to pitch her a story about Toronto. He would be coming down by train at the end of the day. Unfortunately, she had already skedaddled by the time he arrived. I presume the glorious front-of-house double act of Geraldine and Michael were in situ because I got the call to come to reception in her stead. That’s how I met this young guy working in TV who was a writer too – one Tyler Brûlé. A friendship began that day that has endured for decades, remaining in place through all the years that we have worked together at Monocle.
This year is off at full pelt. We are working on a big new digital project and we’ve started planning for The Chiefs conference in Jakarta and The Monocle Quality of Life Conference in Barcelona. There are two new books under way, issues to send and radio shows to record. So, to bring everyone together and unite outlooks – and with Tyler in town – we held one of our regular company “minglers” this week. The format is simple: a few team members give speedy updates on what they’re up to and we also invite a couple of guests. This time our new security correspondent, Gorana Grgić, talked about how the year might be affected by the new incumbent in the White House and Iain Ainsworth, the founder of The Aficionados hotel organisation, spoke about trends in hospitality.
Later that evening, Tyler invited Gorana and Iain for dinner and I made sure that I tagged along. There were six of us squeezed into a booth and, post-mingler, the stories just kept coming. Tyler talked about an assignment, from not long after we first met, that involved a civil war, a pile of cash, a troublesome warlord and a downstairs infection that nobody wanted to see (not his, I hasten to add).
Illustration: Mathieu De Muizon
The idea of friendships that endure has been a theme all week. Last Sunday, as the rain refused to relent, we hunkered down in The Hero pub in Maida Vale, a new establishment that has been winning rave reviews. We had a table in the upstairs restaurant: me, the other half and Peter and Hamish, who have also been friends for decades (even though life and travel schedules mean that the gaps between seeing each other can be too long). Yet nobody was in a rush, there were no Monday-morning flights to pack for and phones were, for once, neglected. Again, stories were retold, new ones unfurled, our bond burnished over plates of food and glasses of good wine. And we laughed. I might have cackled on occasion.
When you are a child or a teenager, friendships are easy. Simple daily routines bind you together. As you grow older and experiences mould you in different ways, people’s outlooks change and it can be harder to hold on to them. But hunkered down in a bustling hotel or in a bar on a rainy afternoon, the simple art of storytelling can keep the past alive and ensure no fraying at the edges.