‘She feels like the sister I never had': Telegraph writers on International Friendship Day

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5 days ago

July 30 marks International Friendship Day. While another overly-Americanised celebration to many, our authors took the chance to acknowledge the professional friendships they have formed at The Telegraph and beyond over the years.
Whether providing company at lunch or a sympathetic ear to gossip with over coffee, health experts are unanimous on both the mental and physical benefits to the body of long-term friendships.
Zoe Jane Hindle, a functional wellness practitioner and creator of the hormone health course Busy Gal says: 'Oxytocin is the hormone that is released in response to physical touch, eye contact, emotional connection and building trust.'
'Oxytocin helps to reduce cortisol as it calms the signalling between the brain and the adrenals, it also helps regulate emotional resilience, supports progesterone production and improves sleep quality.'
Nicky Keay, a hormone health expert, says that good health requires focus in three different areas: physical, mental and social.
'See friendship as a long-term investment – you should naturally lean on these friendships as you get older,' she says.
Do you have a long-term friendship that has helped you through difficult times? Someone you can always rely on to brighten your day or talk about the news? Let us know in the comments.
Lisa and Mick
If you had told me 36 years ago that one day I would be 'in charge' of Mick Brown, I'd have been dumbfounded. I pitched up at the offices of a yet-to-be-launched paper in 1989 with ideas about being a news journalist formed from watching films.
Mick was my editor and was blessed with equal amounts of brilliance, patience and charisma – coming to work was a joy, I learnt so much from him and I was heartbroken when it came to an end 18 months later.
But reading Mick's work over the years, and seeing him from time to time, crystallised just what a fantastic fella he continues to be… and it was with utter delight that I saw him sitting at a desk when I arrived at The Telegraph a few years ago.
Yes, in theory I'm his boss but when we sit down to discuss a feature, it's usually over lunch at the local greasy spoon with diversions into shared loves such as Steely Dan tunes, Margaret Howell knitwear and Sardinian holidays.
He still makes coming to work a joy.
In 1989 I was editing the features and review section of a start-up newspaper called The Sunday Correspondent.
Staffing the section from scratch, and keen to find somebody attuned to a young and female audience, I interviewed a 24-year-old journalist who had been working on Elle magazine, and who arrived for the interview on a motorbike, dressed in black leathers, helmet under her arm. Quick, clever, and keen, she got the job.
She is now what is described as my line-manager – a title that makes it sound as if we both work for the railways. I just call her my boss.
Journalism is a carousel. Friends and colleagues come and go in your life, and often come back again. I was very happy when Lisa came back. We have much the same taste in music, films and books, and we are both passionate about journalism.
She is delightful company – well, most of the time anyway – and how many people can say that about their boss? In short, we are on the same page which is a very good thing for two journalists to be.
Dom and Francis
Francis and I were thrown together by our wonderful pal David Knowles as co-hosts of The Telegraph's podcast Ukraine: The Latest, which has gone out every weekday since the start of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine on February 24, 2022.
We tragically lost David a year ago, but Francis and I have carried on everyday from London, Ukraine and around the world, reporting the news, explaining the context and interviewing guests including presidents, military chiefs, Ukrainian rock stars, young chess prodigies in war-torn Odesa, and everyone in between.
Throughout, and despite his very dodgy fashion choices, I have breathed a little easier when I knew Francis was with me, secure in the knowledge that today's broadcast would be just as good as yesterday's, and just as good as David would have produced.
Despite not knowing the difference between a T-72 tank and a BMP-3 infantry fighting vehicle (and, incredibly, showing not the slightest desire to have me teach him), I have come to accept Francis's idiosyncrasies with criticism that never goes beyond that which is absolutely necessary.
After three years, though, I grudgingly accept that I would be lost without his steady hand, deep sense of duty and resolute spirit.
I am 20 years older than Francis, but we both wish we could be the other's age and, importantly, act accordingly. I think that's why our friendship works. But he's really got to do something about those clothes.
It's scary to admit, but over the past 1,200 days – roughly the length of your average medieval siege – I've spent more time with Dom Nicholls than anyone else in my life. Barely a day has passed without at least one message exchanged, and that's before you even factor in our time in recording studios, war zones, and international airports serving questionable coffee.
And yet, somehow – despite routinely mocking each other's fashion choices (Dom's wardrobe appears to be inspired by a midlife crisis at a beach bar) – we've never once had a proper argument. The closest I came was in Kharkiv last year. After a night of little sleep as a result of air raids, I went to meet Dom at the station.
It was late, packed, and I must have run up and down the place six times like some kind of stressed-out courier pigeon. When I finally found him, he looked as relaxed as if he'd just stepped off a cruise. I, meanwhile, was drenched in sweat and slightly feral. 'Why didn't you pick up your phone?' I demanded. 'I knew you'd find me,' he replied – which was, annoyingly, the nicest thing one friend can say to another.
To an outsider, we must seem like a mismatched pair. I favour suits and ties; Dom dresses like he's heading to a barbecue. This is especially baffling given he spent 25 years in uniform – you'd think he'd have a lingering fondness for a tailored jacket. But beneath the aesthetic chaos, we share much: a sense of humour, of responsibility, and a belief that the work matters.
At events, people sometimes lean in like they're about to reveal a state secret and whisper, 'Do you two actually get along?' I always say: we couldn't do this every day if we didn't. Our reporting, while a great privilege, is often emotionally exhausting – but Dom believes, as I do, that there is always hope, even in the darkest times.
When we lost David, it was Dom who called to tell me. I can only imagine how hard that was for him – but I genuinely can't think of anyone I'd rather have heard it from.
Samuel Johnson once wrote, 'Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier.' I know the feeling. But I count myself incredibly lucky to work so closely with one – even if I still think he shouldn't be afraid to wear a tie now and then.
Laura and Rachel
While far beyond cliché by this point, the siren call for all Gen Z and Millennial women by Dolly Alderton still rings true. Her musing that 'Almost everything I know about love I have learnt from my long-term female friendships' is more than apt when it comes to Laura.
At the beginning of May 2023 I whipped around to an American accent coming from another desk; hardly a common occurrence in Tele Towers. That first coffee run turned into daily lunches and in the two years that have followed we have become almost inseparable.
Laura came from The Times, and the US before that where she had both worked and studied. Her charming accent, a unique hybrid between the States and Leeds, has quickly become a fixture of the newsroom, bringing calm to even the most stressful of breaking news days.
In the years that followed, rarely a week a has passed without at least two evenings out together at various work events or just for fun. Laura has a calm sense of self that can riddle the most complex of professional or personal trials with sagacity. Expertly deploying her specialised state-side meets British stiff-upper-lip blend in knowing exactly when emotion is, and more importantly, isn't needed,
Even during Laura's secondment to Washington DC where she covered the US Election, stressful work schedules and a five-hour time difference proved no match for our daily 20-minute voice notes and FaceTimes. I even crossed the pond for the first time to visit her last December.
They say of modern day friendships, that presence is a luxury. In a world of instant messages often taking president over more meaningful moments, imagine how rich I feel to spend every day together, just a few desks apart.
We may both be only children, but she truly feels like the wiser, wittier sister I never had.
Gordon and Christopher
They say friendships forged in battle are often stronger than the bond between siblings, and you don't have to have fought in a war to know exactly how that feels.
Journalism, like the Armed Forces, is a career in which adversity has to be overcome on a daily basis, as the troops (reporters) fend off the twin threats of the enemy (other news organisations) and your superiors. In both cases, it's a great way to find out who your real friends are.
For nearly two decades, the person who has perhaps best fitted that description in my life is Chris Hope, with whom I have shared office space for most of my Telegraph career, both at HQ and in our cramped, stifling outpost in Parliament, reporting on everything from the MPs expenses scandal to general elections.
Chris is one of those people who will always have your back both professionally and personally. Equally importantly, he also sees the funny side (and very often the sheer absurdity) of any situation and laughter is a given when Chris is around, usually at his own expense.
He is now doing brilliantly as GB News's political editor, having left The Telegraph to make the switch into broadcasting, but few days go by without us contacting each other for a laugh or a gossip about what our colleagues or acquaintances have been up to. Our wives have become friends too.
Another thing that's a given with Chris is trust. We can discuss anything without having to worry about it being repeated. A true friend is a safe space, and Chris is both to me. It's just a shame he supports Liverpool.
Millie and Shauna
We met each other at work and from the very beginning there was something easy about our connection. We only spent a short amount of time together on the same desk, but what started as a professional relationship quickly turned into something much more meaningful.
We started spending more time together outside of work – grabbing coffee, venting about difficult days and becoming each other's sounding board for both personal and professional challenges. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, from work deadlines to deeper topics like family, relationships and future goals.
Earlier this year, we took a leap and moved in together (along with our friend Eleanor). People might assume it would be too much to see each other every day both at work and at home, but for us, living with each other has been a continuation of the comfort we found in each other's company. In fact, we even walk home from the office together when we can.
We hang out most evenings, binge-watching Girls or Sex in the City while talking through our days. On weekends, we're often out together at parties, catching up with friends, or impulse buying more table runners and vases for our beautiful new home.
What makes this friendship special is the balance we've found. We support each other without judgement, challenge each other to grow and celebrate each other's wins – big or small. It's rare to find someone who understands both the demands of your job and the nuances of your personal life and we feel lucky to have found that in each other.
Our friendship is a reminder that some of the best relationships begin in the most ordinary places and can evolve into something truly valuable and lasting.
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