Ten things I love about you:
Look at that dreadful legwear! You took me out to buy fickle cream sandals with unnecessary eyelets; and made me two summer frocks and a pink frilly party frock with lots of layers. I had a history of wearing my sister's hand-me-downs and mum's adage of 'sensible shoes won't ruin your feet'
Chris has got his frowny face on, probably because of the boil on his arm. You once bribed him, with a sixpence, to put on lipstick and go 'up the swings'
Taking our wellies through the stream over the tops of our boots. You didn't make a fuss
The day you came home to find that we had scoffed the loaf the baker had left on the windowsill. You did make a fuss
Showing me how to sew a needlecase for mum. Chris got to make a basket. Watching him soften the weave in the bath made me wish I could have done that, instead
Putting me in the coach-built pram to wheel me up to school to meet Chris, after I had twisted my ankle and couldn't walk. That was almost as embarrassing as the 'Fred! Fred!' you would shout outside the school to draw my attention. Friends would ask Chris, 'Who's Fred?' 'My sister.'
Waking up on Christmas morning unwrapping my stocking in the dark. The orange was the only present I recognised
Letting me stay up on New Year's Eve 'till after midnight, doing the Hokey Cokey with the neighbours and giving me ginger beer to drink when we got in. For years, I thought you had given me real beer
The day the wasp stung you badly, you carried on making jam, rock cakes and those lovely Viennese fingers which we got to dip in chocolate (before licking the bowl)
You don't like being made a fuss of or having your picture taken but you are one of a rare breed who makes everyone else feel special. The flowers in Alistair's garden are not neglected; even though, despite showing me how to make bunny-rabbits of the wallflowers at Crosslands Road, wielding a trowel is not your natural forté. WMC
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