Monday, November 13, 2006

Late Developer

You know how sometimes you get something and you're not sure what it does? I mean, you've got a vague idea what it's meant to be for but it doesn't appear to do what it says on the tin?

Well that's kind of the best description I can give for my brother Martin. I mean he's a lovely guy, clearly far nicer than me, but that's hardly difficult. I think he got the nice gene. As an older brother however, he's never quite filled the role. Now i am not being horrible, well only a little, what I mean is he never filled the 'Big Brother' role, rather he's always been more of a little brother. This is fine, a brother is a brother after all and some people don't get any! Some people have to put up with sisters, poor sods.

Anyway, so he's been pootling along quite happily at home working, getting engaged, getting an XBox 360 (git!) etc. Which is fine, except......well. Okay, I'm sure you are all thinking the same thing: "It's great that he is doing OK Matt, but I don't see anything in this for you? Surely he sees that you are due some kind of material gain from this relationship? Matt can't live on love alone for Chrissake!". And you'd be absolutely right to think these thoughts. Luckily he has awoken to the true way and is about to take over as publican at one of our locals back home. this provides me with a free bed above a pub. It's like poetry 'Free Bed above a Pub'.

Living the dream.

This helps in another area. Since time immemorial on Christmas day, my mum packs me my dad and my brothers (well one brother now) off to the pub while she makes dinner. Incidentally before you protest about the unfairness of it all, I have offered to cook Christmas dinner on numerous occasions but she has always refused - often violently. Anyway, she says 'Back by one for lunch' we say 'Logically, the pub closes at 3 - surely that would be a better time?'. An argument ensues and we always agree on 2pm. Why we bother with the argument is beyond me, but it can be fun. Invariably someone (usually my dad) is late for lunch.

Now I have proposed a solution that is finding resistance in the Mum camp, but lots of support from the Whiskey Soaked Wasters lobby. The proposal is this: we take my mother and all the dinner stuff to the large flat above the pub. She can cook the dinner in the pub we are drinking in, then no one will be late! Its' genius! Also she can partake of some gentle libations with us!

Who said I had no Christmas spirit?

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