Oh Brothers!

 There was an age gap. A big one. So when I plopped into their live I don't think they were thrilled. As far as the dynamic with my brothers went, they seemed to hate each other. Petty jealousy seemed to be the main fuel thrown onto the bicker fire.

My youngest eldest brother complained that the other one used his Meccano and how unfair it was. He was the favourite and he got away with murder. He would complain about this power imbalance way into his 50's. I mean, come on....get over it.

He's probably moaning about that shit now...Ho hum.

Of course my arrival started the mechanism for us to move out of their neighbourhood in Crystal Palace to jolly old Kent. Which meant leaving behind friends, schools and relatives. Not easy for them I'm sure.

Unaware of what I was birthing myself into, I was launched like a little weapon onto this 10 year old battlefield between brothers. I'm sure my parents sat them down and explained why they wanted me and how they still loved them and we would all look after each other and be a loving family supporting each other with what ever life would throw up against us. Greenheads together, right?

Or they probably said nothing and allowed stewing resentments to build until it spilled out like a tsunami of angry verbal vomit of petty arguments at Birthdays, Christmas and weddings.

 Later when I was older, perhaps 5 or 6 my mum needed to go to work. Needs must, as my parents needed to earn money, which is understandable. My mum had a new job working in a greengrocers. The way my family prepared me for this new, to my mind unwelcome set up, was to keep it a military secret and behind my back, diverting me with Sesame Street, bundle mum in a car and drive off at high speed, like she was being kidnapped, in the hope I would not notice.

Only flaw in this genius plan was I did noticed. I do remember a sense of panic seeming the back of my mum slamming the car door and driving off in our black Hillman Imp. I started screaming and banging at the windows as she left being pulled back by my brothers. I think it was a shock for me, I was with mum all the time. I must have realised on a primal level she was my only ally and I was left with my brothers to look after me when dad was at work.

I never really remember Dad ever looking after me, thinking about it.

My mother trusted that my brothers would take good care of me, because they were very sensible lads. Heckle was now 21 and Jeckle was 16.( This is not my brothers names by the way. From hence forth this is how I will affectionally refer to them) They we going to the pubs now, smoking, drinking and into girls. They wouldn't  mind looking after a precocious little 6 year old brother, of course they would read me books and show me the secrets of how to construct Lego houses. Right? They baby sat me the only way they knew how.

They would take me to the local pubs. 

I remember going into the Seven Stiles in St Mary Cray. In those days there we public bars and saloon bars. Public bars were for riff raff, ( We were classed at Riff Raff) and the saloon bars were more for your more discerning clientele, for some reason it boasted more expensive drinks and had carpets, a dart board and maybe a juke box. In St Mary Cray this probably translated that the Saloon bar was the stomping ground for out for the local crims.

My youngest eldest brother Jeckle took me in there. I cast my mind back and I was like going into a medieval scene. Blue smoke hanging in layers, ventilated round the room via lungs of the patrons at the bar. Immediately being noticed by the locals. Coz six year olds aren't usually allowed in pubs. Not even then. I felt like I was a robot walking into the Cantina Bar. I bit like the greeting I got when I was brought home from the hospital. To mix film references, I wouldn't be surprised if some local missed his dart board.*

*For younger readers I refer to the Cantina Scene in Star Wars the first and forth one. And of course American Werewolf in London where the two backpackers ask about a local totem. Complete mood killer.

I remember a woman, she was sitting, probably in her 50's. A 1970's 50's, so she looked 70 with a hole in her throat and a microphone. To my horror, she would place this devise on her neck to be able to vocalize which I can only describe as a sort of drag queen Dalek voice, with dancing bronchial under tones.

She took a shine to me and I just wanted to escape in fear she might eat me.

The older brother Heckle preferred the Royal Albert, which was further away and meant we had to cross a rather busy A224 Cray Avenue road. Heckle was a lot taller than Jeckle and would stride off leaving me running to keep up.

I remember him grumpily leaving me behind walking from the pub, my world spinning to cross the road by myself. He'd giving me one too many shandies and I couldn't keep up. I got across the road, more thanks to the Green Cross Code man to my lovely Greenhead Cross brother.

How he would laugh at that story at family get togethers, him and Jeckle would often disagree with each other about which one got me drunk.

I have got news for you...You both did, congrats.