I came up with this little trick after one too many dead arms.
Whenever my brother did something to upset me, I figured out a way to make sure any punishment meted out by mum could be magnified tenfold.
Instead of running to mummy, I would actually HIDE my pain from her. (I know, it’s a little counter-intuitive but stay with me.)
I would go to the end of the garden and weep at the grave of Betty the hamster. (Betty my soul mate. Betty, the only one who ever really understood me. Betty who was snatched from me so young WHY?????)
I lurked at her graveside, knowing only too well that mum would see her little Davi-dums in distress and come to find out who had upset her special boy.
A little “Oh it’s nothing really” or “I’m sure he didn’t mean it” was all it took for mum to not only open an enormous can of whoopass, but shake the can violently beforehand.
Now I’m not saying I owe my brother anything.
But I would like to point you to these rather nice pictures he’s done on his iPhone.
Here are a couple of my favourites. See his new blog here. (I'll take 15% on any commissions, thank you.)
7 hours ago