I WAS rushing to work the other day when the phone rang. I picked it up irritably but there was a hesitant pause on the other end before the person hung up. I put it down and forgot all about it, thinking it was a marketing call with its wires crossed.

It was only a few minutes later, when I heard my nosey mother dial 1471 and begin talking, that my ears pricked up.

It turned out that the person who called was my oldest friend whom I'd had a falling out with six months ago. I had had an angry conversation with her, in which I told her all the things I'd kept bottled up for the past five years, and followed it up with a five-line letter asking her not to get in touch with me again.

Since then, I haven't really missed her, though there was a tiny nostalgic bit of me that was secretly mourning the absence of her in my life, however infuriating she had been.

I had really upset her at the time by telling her things about herself that were obviously difficult for her to hear, but I was still seeing the red mist for months afterwards and didn't really reflect on the effect my words would have on her.

The last thing I had expected was for her to have forgiven my harshness and gather up the courage to try to get in touch with me again.

Although others have reminded me of the reasons why she drove me round the bend, now the anger has melted I feel that perhaps she will actually be different this time round.

The tragic thing was that she had never really done anything wrong or been a terrible friend. The problem was simply that she was who she was and I was very different and we couldn't really relate to each other. In spite of not being able to talk to her or not even liking her that much, I did actually care about her and she was always loyal to me. The realisation that she was so scared to talk to me that she had to put the phone down made me uncomfortable, and a little ashamed of how harsh I had been. The fact that she got in touch meant she hadn't abandoned the friendship just because it had proved to be flawed.

I strained my ears to hear all the details of her life as my mum was quizzing her on the phone, half-angry with myself that I wanted to know, but also surprised by the news that her boyfriend had had a back operation and that her daughter is now starting school. So much had moved on in the six months since we fell out.

I wanted to pick up the phone and talk to her that evening but something stopped me. I might have forgiven her for her failings but I find it hard to forget the reasons why I wanted her out of my life.

And that doesn't sound like a good basis for a reunion.