A Long Friendship
From Diana Wade
 
I have known Shirley for 75 years, since we met aged 11 to start our secondary education at North London Collegiate School. Shirley’s passing leaves a large hole in our lives but with many memories that I hope may be unique.
 
Shirley and I went through school and in the Sixth Form discovered that we both hoped to study pharmacy. We were both awarded places at the London School of Pharmacy, but neither of us passed all the required A levels. We were fortunate the School of Pharmacy offered to keep the places open until the following year and NLCS offered to employ us as laboratory assistants for the next academic year. We both agreed that this was very generous and gratefully accepted. By August 1953 we were installed in the chemistry store, with four labs to look after and all the lessons’ requirements to prepare for the teacher.
 
During the school holidays we checked the lab cupboards, made sure that the chemicals were well stocked and the biology specimens in good condition. But the job of cleaning out the tank containing dogfish in formaldehyde was something Shirley couldn’t do. During the year we both took and passed the needed A levels and in October 1954 we both became students at the School of Pharmacy, London University. We both lived at home and travelled in to Bloomsbury Square by the Underground. We would meet at Wembley Park station and arrive at the college together.
 
At some point a young man named Richard Harris joined us. He was a relative of Mrs Price and lodged with her. After three years we both graduated, Shirley obtaining a First Class degree. Our lives continued to match: I married Ainley in 1959 and Shirley married Richard soon after.
 
We both had four children and kept in touch, meeting when her children came to London to visit Hamleys and have a tea-time treat each year before Christmas. We gave support to each other and worked for the Lord with Church activities and visiting.
 
The years passed, we retired and old age started to affect us. Shirley kept going with great courage, still doing as much as she could for everyone who needed help or lending a listening ear. She wrote lovely letters telling me about her family and we had long phone calls about what we were both managing to do.
 
Thank you Shirley for being such a constant in our lives. In the words of the old song:
            We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.
            But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.