Last night I discovered something that came as quite a shock...on a par with discovering the world is round and not flat, being told that Santa isn't real and discovering that you can't touch your nose with your elbow.
I'm reeling, and am not sure when I'll be the same again....if ever.
Some counselling may well be necessary.
All my life I have been telling anyone who cares to ask that My Brother is fifteen months older than me. I'm sure this is what Grandma in Cyprus said all those many years ago and I have held that information dear to my heart, unquestioned all this very long time.
Yesterday it was My Brother's birthday. And for the first time in about 40 years we celebrated together. We met for a meal with His Better Half and The Cat's Mother - her first meeting with them. We chatted away pretty merrily for a couple of hours before the age subject came up. It was only then that clever clogs The Cats Mother pointed out that the difference in our ages was not fifteen months but a whopping 21 months. Somehow a whole half year had been gained. Or lost. I'm not sure which.
She thinks we're both daft. And has laughed at us mercilessly...as indeed did His Better Half. But if you're told something by your mum (who wasn't there to defend herself) why would you question it?
Anyway, I'm thrown, in a state of abject confusion and in need of support. I'm not the same person I was yesterday.
