Wednesday, 17 August 2016


In our teenage years, it had become quite routine for Emily and I to accompany my Dad to his Mum's house every Sunday afternoon. More often than not, I'd be hungover, lay on a sofa with scrapes and bruises on my legs from the night before, wanting to eat a cream cake but knowing that there was a 70% chance that I'd instantly vomit it back up. Em would be sat up in an armchair, calling me pathetic before triumphantly shovelling a bakewell slice down her throat.

On this particular occasion though, Em had draped herself sideways over the chair my late Granddad used to sit in. Now, the layout of my Grandparents' house meant that Em's feet were hanging right over the arm of the furniture, into the path everyone had to take to get into the kitchen (to the glorious, shiny, oozing cakes).

I shut my eyes for a while, focusing on the sound of the TV, (which was switched over to Madame Emily's choice as soon as we entered the house- of course).

I tried to forget about the gurgling noise my insides were making.

Churning last night's rum and this morning's forced-down toast.


I found myself waking.
Must have drifted off.

''You were making that stupid clicking noise in your sleep again- so annoying''...

''You can't just snore like a normal person''.

A sisters warm wake-up, as always.

I rolled off the sofa and started walking to the kitchen- it was cake o'clock.
Emily hadn't moved at all.

As I came level with her, I slapped her feet; they were still hanging over the edge.
I couldn't resist.

You'll get what I mean if you're a sibling, that rush to wind them up!

It had the desired effect.

Emily SHOT UP, whipping her head forward to shout at me...

I hadn't realised however, that she was chewing gum.

As she propelled her body forward, the gum was slung down the back of her throat.

Her voice got stuck just as it began to form, and she started to cough and splutter.

Her eyes bulged out, and with a final cough she spat the chewing gum right across the room.

She caught her breath.

My Dad looked at me, and we both burst out laughing.

I was rolling around on the floor - (I did warn you earlier in the blog that I have a horrendous sense of humour).

When I got back up and looked over at Emily, her face had turned bright purple.

She was shaking.

I decided it was probably best to run, pain was most definitely coming my way, and fast.

I won't tell you the things she called me, I'm sure you don't need me to!

I sat down and ate my cake,
I didn't feel sick at all anymore,
My belly hurt even more than before,
Only now it was from laughter.

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