Until I was about 8 years old I shared a bedroom with my brother. He was three years older than me and very patient with his little sister. I followed him around everywhere and tried to copy everything he did. I was an early reader, thanks to the patience of him and my mother, but I still enjoyed being read to. Sometimes, when we were still awake after the light had been put out he would make up stories for me. The ones I liked best were about the Thunderbolt, a magical car (long before we ever heard about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang). This car took us on fantastic adventures. It could fly,  go under water,  drive faster than a train and hide itself!  It even started going into space after “The Eagle” came out with the adventures of “Dan Dare, the pilot of the future”.

We went to darkest Africa, the North Pole, China and even to Wonderland with Alice. The TARDIS had nothing on the Thunderbolt 🙂

Sometimes if he didn’t feel like telling me a story he would start, “There was a boy who had a little sister and she pestered him to tell her a story, when he wanted to go to sleep so he told her this one, “There was  a boy who had a little sister who pestered him to tell her a story so he told her this one…………… ”

 I missed him when he moved into his own room, but by that time I was going to the library and could read for myself, and then I started getting into trouble for keeping my light on too late. I would get three warnings and then Dad would storm in and remove the light bulb and refuse to put it back for a week. Even here my brother tried to help by lending me his torch!

English remained one of his best subjects and he won several prizes at school for essays.

Now I see my eight year old grandson following in his footsteps and reading to his younger brother and making up stories. The younger one makes up stories which even surpass those of his great uncle, as Jennie  has posted sometimes:)

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