After initial ructions regarding time of arrival etc etc it has ended up being pleasant having my brother staying. He’s a resilient fellow. Fell off his bike in Thailand, six foot three, looked like death warmed up when last I saw him. Having already lost the oldest of us to Parkinson’s some years ago I was starting to worry so it’s good to see him on better form. Still clumsy but solid. I’ve been feeding him. He’s on the mend.
For lunch we had jacket potato rarebit, and for dinner a spicy porky stew with rice. Once again I forgot to postpone HelloFresh so they dropped off a box of totally random stuff on Monday and I’ve been taking the opportunity to prevent it going to waste. If you live predictably, these recipe boxes are a damn fine way of stopping yourself from grabbing loads of unnecessary gubbins in the local supermarket. I have someone to feed so I’m much more inspired to actually take the time and cook things. It’s always easier when there’s more than one person in the equation. And I haven’t seen Jeremy properly for years.
So technically he’s a half brother, but as with all families it’s weird and personal and I’ve always called him brother. He’s an artist. The youngest of my father’s first brood. He’s been teaching for decades now alongside it, and moving around. From a reasonably visitable post at Gordonstoun in his native Scotland, he inexplicably fucked off to Lantau, an island off Hong Kong. I never visited him there, perhaps partly because I had already been there as a teenager and eaten an incredible vegetarian meal cooked by the monks who tend the giant Buddha. You don’t pay to see the Buddha, you pay for the meal and see it while you wait. Most people don’t stay for the meal. Sillies.
Then he shot off to a school in Cairo but hated it so took a job in rural Thailand. I dunno how he finds them. It’s one way to see the world… But he recently decided to come back and find out the shape of things over here. His mum died. I understand how that can catalyse a shift in thinking and pull you to security. He’s still in flux though. I’ve had him on the sofa the last few days. He chucked in the Thai job. He’s off up to Scotland next and a small island to assess what’s left of his history up there. Then at some point maybe he’ll head to France where he owns some mildly contentious damp and uninhabitable troglodytic caves machine-burrowed into a mountainside some decades ago and too damp to store things or inhabit.
Everyone’s life is complicated and weird but I’m glad I’ve got my one and not his one. I’m happy to host him a bit, as I host his children when I can. And I hope he finds some sort of stability as we are none of us getting any younger…
AlBarclay 