74. Being the Middle One

It has been brought, gently and lovingly, to my attention, that this blog is in danger of becoming bloring. Too much running, apparently. Fair enough, I say. I will try not to let my obsessions get in the way of a good blead.

Which brings me to today's post, and no running in sight...

The only photo of my father's five children all together was taken in Edinburgh in (I think) 2004, when we all spent the weekend together. We are sitting, in age order from right to left, on a park bench. And there, sadly in black and white or it would be obvious, are five pairs of EXACTLY the same eyes. Otherwise, we're all different. The oldest two are tall and slim and fair (ish) and the youngest two are tall and sturdy and dark. Plus the one in the middle equals five. We all look quite different, and we're obviously individuals, formed out of different sets of DNA and life's experiences... But there they are, the father's eyes - same colour, same shape, same naughty glint.

Most of the time, I'm the eldest/oldest/eldest/oldest. But every now and again I get to be the middle one, which is rather interesting. I have a big sister who's funny and bossy and eccentric so I get to experience what all three of my brothers have grown up with, but I also have a big brother, which turns out to be extremely pleasant. I think he wishes I would wear skirts more, but I don't think he's seen my legs. Anyway...

If the glass is half empty, or half full, depending on the spin you put on it, I reckon as far as my siblings go I get the best of both worlds. Which, as you will by now know, is EXACTLY how I like it, and how it was meant to be.

And now I'm going to the pub.