My big brother

And my big brother.  I remember many stories that I was told, but with such a large age gap, I can never be sure what the truth is and what is merely someone else’s perception of the situation. 

Luke was nearly nine years old when I was born and from what I can gather, he was not particularly happy about my arrival on the scene.  And who can blame him.  He had been an only child for nine years, with the undivided attention of his parents.  Then along comes this interloper (and not a healthy one at that) and blows his life apart. 

I have been told that he perpetrated various ‘brotherly’ actions against me, such as burying me in our sandpit and attempting to use me as a football.  He seems to remember this second event, but no disrespect intended, I am not sure whether to believe him or not. 

I do know that for some reason he was shipped off to boarding school not long after I was born and this pretty much ties in with these stories.  By all accounts he was not an overly confident child to begin with and the arrival of a baby sister, who then proceeded to follow in their parent’s footsteps, must have knocked what little confidence he had.  And even as the years passed and he emerged as an extremely talented athlete, nothing improved the situation.

He frequently attempted to participate in the family forays into the theatre, but this wasn’t meant to be.  His talents definitely lay elsewhere.  Yet I don’t think that his sporting achievements were enough for him.  To this day he seems to retain faulty memories of his theatrical abilities, but misses out on the deserved acclaim he earned for his athletics.