FOR many years The Mother’s ‘Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons’ was a central part of this column.

As one of The Mother’s closest friends we spent many happy hours with her sharing shopping trips, weekends away and meals which stretched for hours and inevitably ended in hysterical laughter and plans for more adventures.

Her non de plume came about from her constant - and semi serious - threat to sue me if her name ever appeared in writing.

“You can only sue if what she says isn’t true,” The Mother would point out with the wearied air of one who had thought about it many times.

“We don’t do half the things she says we do,” the friend would reply

“But we do…that’s the problem,” The Mother would grudgingly admit.

Despite her reluctance to allow me to identify her The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons had no issue with openly outing herself in public if anyone mentioned the column within her earshot.

“That’s me,” she would announce to anyone who would listen. “I’m The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons. I’m called that because I’ve warned her if she writes my name and says I’ve done something stupid, I’ll sue her!”

If ever I dared to point out the irony of her comment her response would be the same - a dismissive wave of the hand and the words, “shut up Elizabeth!”

One of our last trips away was a weekend break in Liverpool to see a show produced by some friends - something which had become an annual event for the housemate and I since my father’s death.

During the break we spent many hours berating The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons about her failing eyesight and her reluctance to have her worsening cataracts dealt with.

“I can see perfectly well thank you,” was her constant reply whenever we raised the subject.

One of the highlights of the Liverpool trip was always dinner at a cosy restaurant, which The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons’s husband always referred to as ‘our Italian’.

As she struggled to read the menu we began our usual round of ‘if only you had your eyes done you’d be able to see what you’re eating.”

“Shut up Elizabeth…there’s nothing wrong with my eyes,” she replied feeling her way around the table.

As we left the restaurant the owner met us at the door to say goodnight.

“Goodnight and thank you for another lovely evening,” said The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons in her most regal manner.

“Good night and thank you very much, as well” she added warmly to the life-sized carving of a Native American Indian chief in full battle dress which for some inexplicable reason always stood by the door.

“Oh yes, there’s nothing at all wrong with your eyes,” I said when we’d finally regained our composure.

Last week The Friend Who Can’t Be Named for Legal Reasons lost her long battle with a cruel illness. I know my mother will miss her immeasurably as will we all. Thanks for all the laughs Glenis Watkins - who can now very much be named. Sue me for that one Glen!