So today I was trying to choose what to wear and I found these pair of black leggings.... once my favourite pair.... now with a massive hole in them...... When I remembered why they had this hole I just had to share....
It was a long time ago, the wind was howling, the storm battering on the windows, rain incessantly pounding at the windows, me and my brother sat in front of the orange glow of the fire toasting marshmallows and trading spooky stories (okay, maybe that wasn't the case but scene setting, guys, scene setting!) So after a while our spooky stories were spent and we were getting bored with the lack of electricity so we decided to do something else.... That something else started off as searching for chocolate but that quest ended quite quickly once we realised there was none in the house, disappointingly! So we turned to piggy backing.... My house has this long hall which culminates in a big door. One of those ones with like 16 panes of glass on it...
A little like this but twice the size! Up and down the hall we carried each other (this was a rare golden moment where me and my brother got on, I blame technology for our rocky relationship, though I guess even as Neanderthals we'd have found something to fight over - whose rock was whose, who was getting the last raw chicken leg etc).
Then it happened. My brother was carrying me down the hall, getting faster and faster, we were nearing the world record for piggy backing running, or so it seemed in our minds, then we reached the end and stopped.. in front of the door, him turning round to carry me back up the hall, when it HAPPENED
By a freak accident I pulled on his neck causing him to stumble backwards pushing me into the door's glass panes hard..... one of those windows broke catching my leggings with it, a huge chunk torn out, no damage done to me or my brother but a hell of a lot to the door and my leggings. Of course the crash brought through the parents and an onslaught of interrogation, shouting, one small enquiry into our wellbeing, and then the big question.... whose fault was it?
And despite the fact we'd bonded through piggy backing, marshmallow roasting, spooky story telling, the fact it was my bum that had broken the pane of glass, my fault I'd pulled on his head, it didn't stop me shoving my guilty thoughts aside as I said 'It was him! He picked me up on his back to prove he could, but he couldn't, mummy, he fell back pushing me against the door, It was him!' And so my iddy biddy brother got in trouble....until the next day when my auntie told my mum that it was my fault, she'd heard us in the corridor beforehand.
Man I loved those leggings!