It's my brother's fault

That I'm a Doctor Who fan. Back in the '80's, Prairie Public Television (PPTV, or PBS, as it was known in those days) picked up the original series and would show it on Friday nights.

My eldest brother had watched it as a child (first run!) when we lived in Ireland, so naturally he was interested when it became available here ... It was one of the few things all three of us would watch together without complaint.

Then my brother A's friend told us about a Doctor Who group he'd heard about- right here in the city. They met once a month to watch episodes (sometimes un-aired or 'lost' episodes), and discuss the show.

A and I went with him to one of these meetings. I don't think they ever went back, but I sure did ...

And I made some fantastic friends, most of whom are still in my life today.

Incidentally, it is also through these friends that I eventually met Himself.

Ironic, isn't it, that Himself claims not to be a Doctor Who fan?

Having said that, I should point out that he watched an episode with me last week and may have remarked: "Hmm, that's a really interesting concept."

gotcha.

Letters to my Nephews: #2

Today was your Daddy's birthday, as I'm sure you know.

I remember one year, Mum and your Uncle A were in Ireland for a visit when your Daddy's twenty first birthday came around.

Your grandfather (whom your cousins called "Granddad") did a great job handling the cooking while your grandmother (aka "Gran") was away; considering Gran had always done all the cooking, this was a big undertaking!

His cooking repertoire was limited; we had potatoes pretty much every night, in one form or another. Granddad didn't care for pasta, and I'm guessing rice was beyond his knowledge base. Your Daddy didn't care much for rice back then anyhow, so he didn't complain about that, but even he got a little bored of potatoes every night, and he *loved* potatoes!!

On your Daddy's birthday that year, since it was just the three of us at home, I was asked to go and get a cake from the bakery. I was fifteen, too young to drive, so I walked to the bakery and home again. (it would have been about as far of a walk as that night we all went down to the pier- remember how Uncle A and I took turns carrying Mr Man's trike home for him?)

Anyhow, unlike this year, it was *really* warm that day, and everything was melting and slushy. I remember getting splashed by a car on my way home, and my biggest worry was that the cake box didn't get wet! (My coat, on the other hand, was a total mess)

I don't remember what else we did that evening, just that it was Spring break, but I do remember that cake ;-)

Writing Struggles (which I cannot fairly call "Writer's Block")

For the past six months, I have been working on a tribute to my brother who passed away last summer.

I haven't gotten very far- there are multiple lines, but rather than forming a cohesive paragraph, they are random notes that haven't got much to do with each other, other than the subject matter.

Too much to say, I suppose. Or too close to my grieving heart. I'm not sure, either way.

But a memory from my childhood came to me last night, and it was one I wanted to share with my two youngest nephews- my brother's boys.

When I was visiting them, Monster 1 wanted to hear stories about what his Daddy was like when he was a little boy.  Under the circumstances, The Penultimate Uncle (my other brother) and I could only come up with a few small things, all of which seemed, quite frankly, to be grossly inadequate ... Sir Fiery Locks was pleased to hear them, all the same.

Then an idea came to me. I intend to try writing and posting a weekly instalment, in which I hope to share something about my brother, be it a story, a quirk, a characteristic, a family joke ... or perhaps all of the above.

I hope, in this way, to help those sweet boys stay connected with their Daddy. No doubt their names will come up on occasion, so I will need to find suitable nicknames for them, in order to protect their privacy. For the time being, they shall be referred to as 'Monster 1' (age 9), and 'Mr Man' (age 4). I may, with my SIL's permission, post a photo from time to time (I need to clear this with her first, of course).

I have even come up with a title for these posts:

Letters to My Nephews

1st instalment to follow shortly...