The Holiday – Part 15

My family don’t do sympathy. Awwwww poor you? Nope – not in their vocabulary. At least not for blood relatives.

Trip and fall? Derisive snort. Break your wrist? Cant you look where you’re going. Swollen glands? Thats what you get for snogging that boy. Crash the car? Hope you weren’t drunk.

Jump in a ditch of nettles to avoid a sheep-stampede? lose your good flip-flops, your pride and any useful skin on your legs?


At least the hysteria which greeted me stopped them from speaking. For a few minutes. Mother pissed herself (her – you know – eyes drop to below navel, voice lowers– has never been the same since – dramatic pause – Oor Derek – he had shooders like a bulls, you know). But not before saying You silly bitch! What on earth were you doing!

Derek – the farmer/scrapyard owner (not my bull-shouldered brother) – and his wife made noises about how it was easy to get caught out like that. At least I think that’s what they said. The girlfriend could not handle the situation and walked away, hugging herself, shaking a bit with the effort of suppressing the laughs.

And I stood there, legs and hands and forearms beginning to nip from the nettle stings, the cut on the sole of my left foot beginning to throb and thought – if you cant beat em, join em…

Yip, I am a silly bitch I said. Then laughed too.

Then said I think I need a big gin.

6 thoughts on “The Holiday – Part 15

  1. This is good stuff…these last two have been gems.

    What ever guilt I felt about laughing at your plight…lost all it's power in the exchange between you and the Yorkshireman.

    And now that I know how it goes down at your house (exactly as it does at mine)…it's too funny in the telling not to laugh out loud.

  2. Thanks e.f.

    The writing needs a good editor – but I am enjoying recreating the scene and I am happy it is making you smile. You mightn't believe it…but strangely it is funnier to me now than it was at the time…

    My family subscribe to the brutalist school of caring – i.e. what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger… OR…humiliation is good for the soul. I thought you sounded familiar and now I find you were similarly afflicted from birth!…

  3. So funny. Sorry Yvonne but your loss of dignity has cheered me up no end this evening. Love the details too, the shit on the flip flops, the nettle rash.
    More please.

  4. “I wouldn't pick on you if I didn't love you,” is the unofficial motto in my family.

    Maybe that accounts for the familiarity…something must because you seem awfully familiar to me too.

    I don't know how much editing you need either…these pieces are very tight and lively.

  5. Oh boy. That's a hard lot to live with. Make or break stuff I suppose. I'd find it a bit hard to cope with I think. Having said that it makes for a much better story than you'd have got with my family! But then I can be pretty sure that we'd all have waved our arms and made the sheep go round us. If waving your arms doesn't do it then bark. That works. And if you are ever charged by a bull then you just have to get your feet off the ground and you'll be ok. That's what the book says. Mind you you have to have faith that the bull's read the same book.

  6. Haha GB. They are a hard lot. Tough love!
    I am intrigued by the thought of getting your feet off the ground when being charged by a bull…guess that means up the nearest tree for me then…!

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