If you leave me now...

This week sees the end of an era, as Midge prepares to leave us for the greener grass of elsewhere. What an era it's been. 

Eight years ago Midge came for an interview in the office where I worked as a secretary. With part of my job being trying to be nice to people while they waited for their interviews (which could be incredibly painful, at times), I was delighted to find out that they'd picked the girl I remembered as being really talkative, and rather sarcastic. Soon put together to work we've since undergone many, massive departmental changes, received promotions, moved buildings (and back again), seen tons of different colleagues come and go, and spent years at a time working alone in isolated offices together. So it was fortunate, really, that as we'd be spending upwards of 40 hours a week together, she soon became one of my besties.

One of my favourite things about her is that she's not only funny when she wants to be, but especially when she doesn't mean to be. Whether it's when she's swearily sleep-talking on my sofa, accidentally calling people abusive names to their faces, or just getting all her words wrong (my favourites being the week she spent telling people she'd done something "on a quim" or describing the time she spent staying in a hostel where "the walls were made of MDMA") I spend a rather large proportion of my time in her company cackling like a loon.

Dismantling the remnants of our office this week and sharing out our glorious wall decorations has made me feel all misty eyed and nostalgic, and I'd like to take a moment to celebrate Midge and say thank you for a few things. So, sprinkled liberally with a few favourite clips and in jokes, here goes...

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For the books. And the lists of books. For the sharing of the love of Anne Rice, and the sharing of the anger at Anita Blake. For the library visits and the book store binges and, most of all, for being totally cool with sitting and ignoring one another in favour of our books.

For all the lifts. And for bringing Alton Towers to everyday life in the form of her driving.

For making me try sushi.

For the unashamed love of rubbish (in my opinion) pop songs, and the complete inability to remember absolutely anything about any of them. And for the entire hour she once spent banging on about some bloke called Tim Morrison, before I realised she meant Jim.

For the impromptu dance routines, especially the ones that are in the car or include tap dance and jazz hands. And for turning Zumba class into an audition to be Ike & Tina's backing dancers.

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For all of the thingies.

For making me realise that not only is it OK to wear a dress, but that having an actual haircut and attempting to style it is OK too. 

For her astonishment on watching me open a carton of soup ("Is that how you do it? I thought you just folded that back and then sort of picked at it")

For the many, many life plans unearthed during the office clear out.

For the dedication to quizzes.

For being able to have a blistering row with one another one minute, and laugh the next.

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For being the sort of person who not only encourages you to perform Superfreak at 6pm in a pub while people have their tea behind you, but gets up and does it with you. 

For the being the best at meeting new people ("It's like I had an out of body experience. I watched myself behave like a maniac, and couldn't do anything to stop it.")

For all the telly watching, and for having to hide behind the cushion when True Blood gets sexy.

For being as slovenly as me and happily allowing belching in the office, and for the shared love of talking about bowel movements.

For adopting me a monkey.

For putting up with my frequent whining, and all of the unconditional support. Especially during the Age of the Vomits.

For her method of asking for food ("You cook for Midge, yes?" or, more frequently, "I ate your biscuits while you were off")

For being incredibly generous, and never being able to do enough for everyone.

For the spreading of wild rumours ("Who's that French bloke you fancy? Jacques Chirac?" I would like to go on the record as never having fancied Jacques Chirac.)  

For all of the rants, and being able to swear as impressively and often as me.

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For writing me a story.

For still not being able to say the name of where she's moving correctly.

For many, many other things that I couldn't put up here for fear of getting both of us into tons of trouble.

And finally, for making sure that she Skypes me constantly, and remembers not to watch the Veronica Mars movie with anyone but me, and for making sure she comes home frequently and lets me come and stay whenever I want.