Happy birthday, Laura!
She is my best friend, and I've known her since Will was two weeks old. He'll be 21 in January.
We've been really close friends for the past five or six years, and the day is always sunnier for the time we manage to spend together, which, sadly, is not so much, now Laura's amazing career as a midwife has taken off.
She's a mate, a sounding board and a confidante; and a tower of strength and good sense when I'm feeling pissweak and indecisive. She has an amazing mind — far more organised and analytical than I'd ever be capable of — and an easy sense of humour that makes being with her a seriously good time.
We've been window-shopping on Rokeby Road and walked the Strip in Las Vegas.
We've made stuffed cats together in Perth, we've been had breakfast on Sunset Boulevard. We've been shopping at Spotto, promenading at La Jolla,
and together — and wearing exactly the same outfits but with silly shoes!— we stepped right over the edge of the Grand Canyon.
We've made stuff together and for each other. My stash is her stash and hers is mine.
We've written to one another from across the world — I from Perth to Laura in Wisconsin, and some years later, by email and skype from my home in San Diego to Laura's home in Daglish and then all over the place as she and her husband, Don, did the world.
I'm a richer person for her friendship.
Love ya, Laura! Happy 45th (your prezzie's coming ...)!