Tuesday, 3 September 1996

Helloooooooooooooooooooo  J       apoos

How are you my darling? I am so lazy I never write to you and now that I am I have nothing to say, I tell you everything when I ring.

Heard you had dinner with Dad on Sunday for Father’s Day. Mum told me all about his embarrassing shenanigans at the restaurant, what a hoot.  He really is a cartoon character isn’t he, something between Pluto, Mr McGoo and Pepe Le Pew (check my spelling please brain box, my spell checker doesn’t include a Disney option).

Hope you like the photo of Brady, she is so placid, just like you but has a very determined mind of her own.

The highlight of my month? Brady did a poo in her potty (oh God the depths I have sunk to in my mortgaged up mediocre life), anyway Jack and I were dancing around the potty singing (in reggae carnival mode)

“Brady’s done a poo poo”

“Brady’s done a poo poo”

when the little shit of a kid bent down and picked up the turd itself and gave it a good old squeeze.  CHARMING let me tell you. Jack and I flipped a coin for who would clean her up, guess who lost?

Jack says he is sorry and is trying, I smile and play nice, but something has turned rock hard inside me. I find it so hard to forgive and forget, no doubt a well learnt lesson from our childhood.  I’m OK though and Brady too, she has settled in really well at Nursery.  Needless to say we don’t see Tracey and family anymore.  Knew I should have got an old ugly heifer for a childminder.

I love you J and miss you so much.  I know, why don’t you come and live with us for a year, get a working visa, I’ll help you find a job in London, you wouldn’t have a problem, honestly. Think of the adventures we could have. Promise me you’ll at least think about it.  Oooh it would be so much fun.

That’s all I have, dull aren’t I?  Work, potty training and philandering husband. Oh god.

Take care little brother, write soon. I love your letters. I love you.

S          apoos

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Scribble by S