Gullible. Yes, even though I was the eldest by one year, sometimes my brother’s charm, made me do silly things.
I wised up as I grew older and wiser, but not after a few hard lessons.
One of these occurred when he had set the lounge up to practice ‘karate.’
‘Sis, I need someone to practice, ’ he said in his most little-brother-needs- your-urgent-assistance-and-I-am-totally-innocent voice.
You’d think the danger signal would be out, after all neither of us actually attended karate classes; we had just seen it on the television.
But no, childhood is often a place for the getting, not the having, of wisdom. I let my brother ‘play fight’ me. At first it was mostly fake wizzing noises, impressive poses, and kicks that did not land, that is until he ‘actually’ kicked me.
I fell over and banged my ear on something which cut it badly. So badly, that in the next minute the blood is gushing out and I am running to find a towel so as not to damage mum’s freshly cleaned carpet. I wrap it around my ear and I’m running down the hallway crying.
Mum is yelling, ‘what’s all the fuss, what have you kids been doing this time,’ and my brother has high tailed it out of there, somewhere up our hilly back yard. I think she’s mad at me and holler even more, until she notices the red seeping out of the towel.
Mum pulls the towel off my ear, and announces, ‘I think it’s off to the Launceston General hospital for stitches for you.’
I like to think this incident is why I became so interested in art, seeing as I had an ear experience in common with Van Gough.