Becky Bond Writes
Siblings in Palma
My View - Wednesday 5th February 2020
I’m the result of a right good knees-up at a wine tasting party in Bingley. Family folklore has it that my parents were three bottles down when they stumbled out of the Beaujolais Nouveau night at their neighbour’s house. Arriving home, all caution was thrown to the wind regarding mum’s transition from the pill to whatever else they used in 1971.
I’m the fourth child of four, with age gaps of 8, 10 and 12 years between myself and my other siblings. The cot had long since been carried from the attic to the charity shop and not one stitch of my sister's clothing had been saved in a suitcase. A lovely surprise, they said.
Mum and dad sadly slipped off this planet a few years ago, but I’ll bet they were raising a glass from above at my big brother Si’s 60th birthday weekend in Palma last month. It’s testament to them that after all these years we still want to mark big moments together. A miracle really because at least 75 per cent our communication is based on severe micky-taking.
Joshing is far from gentle. Balding brother’s heads are slapped, sister’s sticky-out ears are flicked and though we might be proud of one another’s successes, it’s generally agreed that whatever the promotion or prize, it must have been a fluke.
Growing up, it tended to be me at the butt of the jokes and it was normally Nige doing the winding up. I’ve been given chocolate drops from a pet shop, handcuffed to a banister, wedged into a bucket, freewheeled downhill in a pram and given a fictional middle name which I believed for years. I’ve been tripped up, trumped on and turned upside down in a sleeping bag. Hilarious.
We could never play a family game without at least one of us cheating. Nobody’s boyfriend or girlfriend could leave the house until embarrassing stories about their new squeeze had been revealed and there was absolutely no chance of privacy. That’s where I got my own back. I was just the right size to sneak behind a sofa and pop-up if it sounded like some snogging was going to occur. I could squeeze into wardrobes and make annoying noises if the talking suddenly stopped and I once went one step further with some itching powder on a pillow.
Although we share the same sense of humour, our paths have been far from similar. Si spent a large part of his life at sea working on various yachts around the world – hence the party in Palma, where he settled. Nige took on the family business, Lu was a midwife and I’m still deciding.
There have been ups and downs like all families and I’m sure at some point we’ve wanted to lamp one another, but on our WhatsApp group after that weekend, we all agreed we hadn’t laughed as much in ages. I’m just waiting for the next text, when Nige notices the little surprise I left in his luggage.
