Pinky's Book Link

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Sinead's Poignant Ballad: Nothing Compares to Pinky.

As promised, tonight's post is a guest post by one of our dearest family friends, Sinead (not O'Connor or the one from Bananarama). She's one of the most acerbic, witty and annoying people I know and I'm sure you will find her waffling to be very entertaining.


Good evening readers (feel free to apply your own time zone, I care not a jot),

As those most loyal and faithful amongst you would know, I am Sinead - sidekick to Sister Sam (the Baldrick to her Blackadder, the Laurie to her Fry, the French to her Saunders etc ad nauseum).

Please note that my real name is not "Sinead". I threatened to sue the pants off Her Poinkerness if she used my real name...which is actually Geoff.

I have known and loved the extended Poinker clan for two decades - which is almost twenty years when you think about it. Sam and I first bonded when she would pop into the video store where I loitered behind the counter, Tarantino-style...just waiting for someone to read my manuscripts. She expressed a deep and abiding fondness for the written word (just what I wanted to hear, trying to flog videos and whatnot!) and I knew how to read so we formed our own little Book Club founded on a mutual adoration for John Irving's "A Prayer For Owen Meany"...cheers, John.

Perhaps our relationship would have maintained this vague customer/client status had it not been for the intervention of Sam's husband, the legendary Uncle Pedro. At the time, he was a rarely seen, formidable, grunting figure whose suburban reputation preceded him as a local bruiser/boozer/businessman with whom one did not f**k.

One November morning he bellied up to the counter and said. "You're coming 'round for a drink for my wife's birthday. She likes you."
"Well, thank you so much but I couldn't possibly. You se.."
"You. Are. Coming. Round. For.My. Wife's. Birthday."

It was like a Jedi mind trick with more oomph.

Consequently, I meekly turned up with a bottle of something cheap, fizzy and vaguely celebratory...and I never left.

Pedro and Sam made me part of their family. Their generosity and kindness to me have been boundless. They have let me share the joy of their three kids as if they were my own. They loved and supported me through my father's long battle with cancer...Pedro even paid for his wake!

(Not sure what the old man would have thought about the night ending at a strip club but surely naked chicks make everything better?)

We've laughed, cried, sang, fought and loved each other regardless. We have drunk an unseemly amount of booze and often danced like nobody was watching...I hope nobody was. We dyed the dog green on St Patrick's Day and ceremoniously buried the cat when she passed all too soon. To be fair, I was only invited to the funeral because I could lay my hands on a shovel and wield it more efficaciously than a bread knife but that is incidental.

And that is the back story.

(Note from Blog Host: Here comes the important part.)

I met Pinky fairly early in the relationship. Sam is the quintessential "middle child" (quiet, unobtrusive, insular, weird) and has grown up with a certain degree of respect and deference for her older sister. If you have read earlier blogs, a healthy sense of fear for her own physical well-being may have factored into it. How I tried to kill sister Sam.

I cannot recall exactly the circumstances of our first encounter, but it was before Pinky fell pregnant with the delightful Lulu (aka "please let this one be a girl and maybe she'll stop!"). Sam prepped me for the meeting like it was going to be a mid-term at MIT - what to say, what not to say "please don't try and be funny because not everyone thinks you're as funny as you do".....I get that a lot.

So. Pinky pulled up to Sam's place one afternoon and the entire brood tumbled out of an unfeasibly small vehicle (Ringling Bros had nothing on them) and proceeded to wreak havoc while Pinky issued motherly warnings and karate chops in equal measure.


After initial pleasantries, Pinky gave me a quick "up and down" (she has a knack) and, apropos of very little said, "Ok, Sinead - who do you think is prettier... Me or Sam?"

Imagine, if you will, the horrible, slow, sitcom-esque moment in which I realised she wasn't hinting at some obscure family in-joke...

Sophie had an easier choice (apologies, Ms Streep)!!

I took the coward's way out and shot myself in the foot. Far less painful.

But seriously folks - along with Sam, I have been a Pinky fan waaaaayyy before this blog made it fashionable. I have attended her performances in amateur local dramatic productions (no Deidre was ever more sorrowful, to be sure, to be sure), I have applauded from the sidelines as she made the lunatic decision to strike out on her own with five kids in tow. I have cheered as she went back to university and studied her arse off to achieve her teaching degree (five kids still in tow). I snickered behind my hand when she started chatting to some geeky dude on the interweb...I believe you all know him as "Scotto" (I'm sure she'll tell him about the five kids one day).

I didn't have the good fortune to be raised with sisters, But now, thanks to Sam and Pinky, I feel that I am blessed with two - both younger and much, MUCH prettier.