I love my bro, but he was also a little shit....

My parents were 23 (Mum) and 28 (Dad) when they upped and left the baron wastelands of Ipswich, Suffolk to come to the rolling hills of Lordwoods, Kent back in the long hot summer of 1976. My mum was 8 1/2 months pregant with me and she made the 1 1/2 hour journey down on an old 125cc motorbike (no wonder I got some damage) - my brother got a lift in my Grand dad's Hillman Imp, loaded with essentials for the move.

As a result of this migration so far away (it seemed it when I was growing up) we used to have the treat a few times a year of going to see my aunts and uncles and my cousins for the weekend. Now for me this was a trip of a lifetime, going through the countryside of east anglia, spotting unicorns and lepricorns in the fields as we wooshed past on the almost empty Motorways (oh how things have changed)...spotting familiar landmarks that meant we were 20 minutes away....10 minutes away....over the bridge and spotting my Aunties house...just 5 minutes now til we seem them...will they think I'm different, will they think I've grown up...the excitement was intense

The weekend would always pass in a blur, playing football out in the street til our mums called us in for tea, our weary legs hardly able to carry us home. Playing on the school field on a Saturday and then hiding in the grass when the groundsman came round, laughing as we ran from him, tears streaming down of faces

But coming home, was always the sad part. Knowing that you would be lucky if you saw them again that year (each day feels like a year when you are a kid). So my parents used to load up the car with fruit snacks and drinks and me and my brother used to play I spy and the like.

Now one particular journey I only remember being about 10 minutes from home and the over whelming urge to pee. My dad was strict...he should have been in the army, so it was no stopping til we got home...'you can hold it son..be a man'

so there i was ...7 minutes to go, 6 minutes to go, 5 minutes to go....there's the corner to my street...ah a few more seconds and I have made it. The car stops and I jump out of the car I run up the path to the front door, my parents open the door and I attempt to run in. I say attemp becuase as my parents unload the car my brother is at the door holding me back and tickling me. For a split second I was laughing, but laughter turned to tears as the reality hit. There wasnt enough time. Oh how my brother laughed and as I let out a cry of embarrasment mixed with relief, my parents turned round just in time to see just me, a sorry little sight on the front doorstep, my brohter already in the house, a supposed innocent party in all of this.

I try to keep these incidents on the down low when at familiy reunions but you know what brothers can be like, so at my cousins reception party after a wedding he decides to tell the story. My parents face was a picture...they actaully remembered the event and didnt realise it was his fault. So my mum gave my brother a clip round the ear in front of everyone (this was only a few years ago) and I laughed until I almost peed myself again. I just turned round to my brother and said:

'I do love you bro, but you did used to be a little shit!'