He ain’t heavy…

 July has been a very busy month, I’ve been at my parent’s house every weekend for London-based activities. It’s usually a pain in the arse staying there because I have to sleep on a shitty chair bed and there is never really enough room for everyone, but it’s been really lovely. For some reason returning home causes an increase in silliness and it’s excellent amounts of fun. And to continue the overarching theme of this blog, it’s sent me into unnecessary and sentimental state of reflection.

When my very babiest brother was born, I was almost 11 and spent a good hour sulking that I didn’t have a sister. Despite being a tomboy and as thick as thieves with my other younger brother, I wanted a sister who I could dress up with, talk about boys with and swap clothes with.

Instead I was saddled with another stupid BOY to play with.

But then I met him, became obsessed with cuddling him and spent most of my hours out of school helping my mum look after him. My “helping” was most likely not-all-that-useful, but still, he was ace.

I do still have pangs of wishing I had a sister, but my brothers really are truly brilliant. I spent last weekend inBelgiumwith one and took the smallest one to a third round of HP. I love taking him to the cinema – he always behaves appallingly to deliberately wind me up and I take huge delight in him being *so* naughty. It really did take me by surprise that he turned 14 this year – I find it hard to envisage him being any older than about 5. But 14 he is and he’s an incredibly daft, silly and surprisingly level-headed one at that. I love him to bits.

My other younger brother is 21 and I can’t really call him little anymore. But he always will be to me. We spent a couple of days in Belgium drinking every available beer, discussing politics, gossiping about family and generally having a brilliant time – he’s a jolly good drinking partner. Not to mention the fact he brought me breakfast in bed which will keep him in good favour for a while.

They drive each other mental most of the time, but for the most part when we are together we’ve always just ‘got on’ with each other. There’s never really any drama, we are all very different sorts with a shared sense of humour and a common despair at our parents. Seeing as we live in different counties, I don’t spend as much time with them as I did in my teens, but when I do, I feel like a kid again. It’s great.

I’m due back for a 6th and 7th consecutive weekend at my parent’s house over the next fortnight and whilst I’m craving a lazy weekend of TV, duvet and wine, I’ll just have to savour it all the more. Home means love, fun and silliness with two ace brothers I’m bloody lucky to have and I wouldn’t swap either of them for anything in the world. Not even a sister.


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