I always wanted an older sister. Someone to share clothes with, share secrets, share advice ... The age I am now, I imagine she'd take me out drinking, show me all the cool places, introduce me to her friends ...
I however, was 'blessed' with two little brothers.
Meet William and Jack. They're two years my junior and twins believe it or not. My earliest memory is the day they were born. There was a mixture of feelings: mystery, confusion, annoyance that they were keeping my Mum and Dad at the hospital, and discomfort that maybe I wasn't going to be the sole centre of my parent's universe any more.
For as long as I can remember we've fought and argued. They were typical little brothers, disgusting, always getting in trouble, cheeky. There were times when we clashed ... quite seriously in fact, like the time when I accidently ran Jack over with his own bike, or when they hid my Teddy Bear in the airing cupboard so I couldn't sleep, or the numerous times we grassed each other up. Even now, my Mum tells us off for deliberately annoying each other, but we like to think of it as 'banter'.
In hindsight, I have to say, I can't have been the easiest person to live with, they were living in the shadow of the sister dream, and hence I would try to teach them dance moves, make them watch Disney films and give them fashion advice. I soon realised however, that this just wasn't going to work, if you couldn't beat them, join them; I was outnumbered after all. So, they taught me a lot about football, we'd race bikes even though they'd always win and our dens were always the best in the village. We reached mutual understanding: we'd share dolls so Action Man could have a girlfriend, and my Barbies could have a cooler car than a pink caravan, and they'd play Fireman Sam with me so long as they could drive the fire truck. When it comes to films we've found a common sense of humour and a mutual love of Batman and Transformers, music on the other hand, is something I doubt we'll ever agree on; 'Dub-step' just doesn't suit me funnily enough.
School saw us go our separate ways, them becoming the coolest kids in school, me not so much. The amount of times teachers didn't know we were even related, or they'd come and find me because they were in trouble again I've lost count, but despite the initial 'responsible older sister routine', I found humour in their mischief.
Nowadays, despite living in the same house, we don't see each other all that much, what with different jobs, uni, college, apprenticeships, not to mention their busy social life. They now tower above me in height and still do my head in most of the time. Their greeting is generally an abusive term of endearment, they still find it funny to give me a dead arm, and I'm quite often the brunt of jokes. Equally, I'll make them watch Love Actually or Bridget Jones, tell them I don't like what they're wearing, their hair or even their girlfriends.
Although I don't always agree with their lifestyle choices, we still have a mutual understanding to this day, you keep my secrets, I'll keep yours.
If I need them, I know they'll be there. They're far from perfect, as am I, but I'm part of a brotherhood; even if I got a chance to choose over again, I wouldn't change them.
