Someone I haven’t mentioned much on my blog is my little bro, Damo. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s a reflection of my jealousy towards him when we were growing up as he was always our mother’s favourite. The ‘Golden Child’ with the ringlets (who set fire to the side of the house and still avoided getting into trouble).
Pinky, seven years older than the little brat, was a horrible older sister. My younger sister Sam and I would lock him out of our bedroom when I was about eleven and he was at that particularly insufferable age of four.
He lay outside our bedroom door crying like a baby to come in. We just ignored him until, near hysteria and in a feverish lather of sweat, he’d go and dob on us to Mum and I’d cop the blame because I was the eldest. Bloody sook.
When he grew into a tolerable age I was about twenty-two and flew the coop to the big smoke for several years. By the time I returned he too had reached the age where he decided to move away and hasn’t really returned home since.
We’ve seen him every few years but sometimes I regret not having nurtured a closer relationship with him. Your siblings are the closest blood relatives you’ll ever have in this world; closer than your parents and closer than your own children and should never be taken for granted really should they?
I mean… who’s better to donate the odd kidney?
Anyway, the reason I’m bringing up the little terror now is that he seems to have aced me in the adoration stakes once again.
Whilst I’ve been fruitlessly churning out frivolous, inane blog posts for the last eighteen months in the hope that Oprah might ‘discover’ me (whilst surfing the Net beside Stedman in her diamond encrusted nightie) and order a major publishing house to sign me up, Damo has been busy pursuing his own aspirations.
His band, Dogwood Crossing.
The little bugger is the number one, number two and number four on the Triple J Unearthed Chart ???
What the ?
AND Dogwood Crossing are launching their tour in Damo’s home town (my home town too) so I suppose I’ll be obliged to go and support him.
Honestly! The things a big sister has to do.
Expect a phone call because I’ll be organising a posse to come along and support the little monster.
When he grew into a tolerable age I was about twenty-two and flew the coop to the big smoke for several years. By the time I returned he too had reached the age where he decided to move away and hasn’t really returned home since.
We’ve seen him every few years but sometimes I regret not having nurtured a closer relationship with him. Your siblings are the closest blood relatives you’ll ever have in this world; closer than your parents and closer than your own children and should never be taken for granted really should they?
I mean… who’s better to donate the odd kidney?
Anyway, the reason I’m bringing up the little terror now is that he seems to have aced me in the adoration stakes once again.
Whilst I’ve been fruitlessly churning out frivolous, inane blog posts for the last eighteen months in the hope that Oprah might ‘discover’ me (whilst surfing the Net beside Stedman in her diamond encrusted nightie) and order a major publishing house to sign me up, Damo has been busy pursuing his own aspirations.
His band, Dogwood Crossing.
The little bugger is the number one, number two and number four on the Triple J Unearthed Chart ???
AND Dogwood Crossing are launching their tour in Damo’s home town (my home town too) so I suppose I’ll be obliged to go and support him.
Honestly! The things a big sister has to do.
Expect a phone call because I’ll be organising a posse to come along and support the little monster.
