Continued from yesterday’s post: Obsessed with oral satisfaction, I had ballooned by the time I hit twelve months…
So, after a nifty bit of sowing with the old fleshly seed drill, my youngish parents reaped a second daughter just over a year after their first one (moi!) had arrived! It was almost, but not quite, Precision Bonking!
I wasn’t, it has to be admitted, overly impressed with this screaming, stringy, long, dark-haired interloper – and, although I gave her the name by which she has been known ever since (due to my inability, at twelve months, to get my three teeth and baby tongue round the complex syllables of her real name: Well, if parents will insist upon Clytemnestra*, what the hell do they expect?!), I suspect my initial emotional response was more homicidal jealousy than loving sibling bond!
My suckling part of the Bosom/Babe contract had only lasted about four weeks – so seeing this new creature nuzzling away in MY territory was, I am sure, pouring salt upon the wound, creamed fish or no creamed fish! After all, a spoon in the artery-hardening glop is certainly not worth two minutes at the tit!
I responded to this undeclared Sibling Warfare by developing allergies at a rate of knots! Attention-seeking even then, I came out in hives, wheezed like a faulty hoover, screamed hysterically whenever I saw feathers, sneezed my small head off with hayfever and had so many rashes and odd marks on my chubby little bod that I was more mosaic than toddler-who-wouldn’t!
My hair also went curly, almost overnight: Stress-related, I am sure!
Unfortunately, the acquisition of ailments back-fired somewhat: I became about as prepossessing as a warthog and, am privately certain, caused formerly loving relatives to draw straws NOT to hold me! To add to this, I had, from day one, a decidedly bucolic cast to my visage, being agricultural-worker brick red of face and built like a small Sumo Wrestler. Even when ill I looked as if in the rudest of health!
I was also one of these weedy babies who are afraid of everything and will jump at the merest sound: Male laughter, dogs barking, planes overhead, the aforementioned feathers, people generally – all were fertile soil for Bambi nightmares, screaming fits and psychosomatic allergic reactions!
Looking back, I am just surprised my long-suffering parents didn’t simply expose me on a cliff. Perhaps there wasn’t one close enough!
And so, moving on a couple of years, we moved to Horton-cum-Studley! Someone’s got to, I suppose – and here, once again, I draw a veil over the little family!
*Not her real name, of course: Alienora would be a hard act to follow, and Clytemnestra would just have been silly!