Poofter

As I sat in the kitchen, at the sewing machine, making a cover for my bike trailer, I was reminded of one of those family moments that are simultaneously shameful and hilarious.

My Dad's brother, who none of us had ever met even though I was about 11 and my oldest brother Alan would have been about 17 or 18, had come to visit. Joy. Turns out he was a little ex-Army prick who found us all a bit effeminate. Not manly enough. An opinion he voiced very loudly after too much whisky. I would have been more offended if I hadn't been sitting on my bed knitting a jumper at the time.