On being a sister.

One lazy Sunday, a couple of months back, we decided to dig out some old family videos. My nan was chief film-maker and that chunky black box would go everywhere she went.

I was eight when my baby sister was born, on Christmas eve of 1999.
Comparing us when growing up, we couldn't have been more different. She was fair and I was dark. She looked like mum and I looked like dad. She was sporty and I, well, just wasn't!

But what was clear, from those family videos, was just how much I adored her. We lost count of how many times I said, "This is L. She is my sister. And this is what she can do." She would then proceed to demonstrate her newly learnt skill; either clapping, or crawling or doing this funny little screwed up face that would have us all in stitches!

This year baby L is going to be fourteen years old. And I am so proud of everything she is.