Sunday, 10 February 2013
As part of my Creative Writing course at uni, we have been tasked to write a memoir. So I've been trawling through my memory to try and find something worthy of writing about.
The more I thought about it, the more difficult it got to think of anything that didn't involve my little sister in some way, and I've realised just how big a part of my life she is.
So I've decided to indulge my soft and gooey side and tell you a little bit about our shenanigans. I promise you that you'll laugh at least a little bit. And if you don't believe me, just take a little look at this...
There's a seven-year age gap between India and I. The first thing I should tell you is that she has the best name in the world. India Poe. Not only is it awesome, people can actually spell it on the first try. Not like my name. Try telling the people in Starbucks that your name is Eilidh, I dare you.
The second thing I should tell you is that we fight like cat and dog. I mean, constantly. Neither of us can bear to be wrong, so neither of us will ever let anything go. I swear we drove Mum half demented. I think part of the problem is the fact that we are complete opposites. I was a VERY quiet child. I read a lot, watched movies a lot and was quite happy to sit with a jigsaw for hours until it was finished.
India was a bit different.
If it didn't involved running, screaming or making a mess, she just wasn't interested.
There was one moment in our lives that has stuck out in the process of my memoir-writing, and that is the infamous (within our family, anyway) WASP INCIDENT.
We were away on a Family Camping Trip. You know the kind. It takes an hour to set up the tent because it's too big for anyone to hold up, and you forget an airbed or two.
To be honest, our camping hi-jinks could probably take up a whole post on it's own...
Anyway, I couldn't have been any older than about ten or eleven, which would make India between three or four. We were off playing, as you do, and India runs straight over to a tree and gives something at the bottom of it an almighty kick.
The next thing I know, she is screaming to high heaven as a mass of swarming wasps emerge, probably not very happy at India for completely destroying their lovely nest.
What follows is what I've been told by my mum, since I can't actually remember it. Apparently I'd gone into shock or something like that.
APPARENTLY, I ran over to where India was and threw her out of the way of all the wasps. That would have been fine, if not for the single wasp that was so annoyed, that it decided to take it out on me.
It went down the back of my top.
And obviously, being stuck down there wouldn't have made it any happier. So it proceeded to sting me SEVEN times on and around my shoulder blade. But APPARENTLY I walked over to Mum, cool as a cucumber, explained that there was a wasp down the back of my top and would she please get it out so that it would stop stinging me.
I like to think of it as one of the more noble moments in my lifetime, but now whenever it's brought up, India just laughs at me for being so daft.
Despite that, I love her to bits, and what makes all this better, I'm getting to go home next week to go see her before her 12th birthday. I love you to bits, India.
Maybe one day you won't laugh at The Wasp Incident...