So I'm in the back end of beyond (it always escapes me why people should think that the mere act of driving 300 miles to get somewhere should in any way enhance the experience when you do). But the consensus is that the village is "quaint", "unspoilt" and "charming" - for which read: no streetlights, mobile phone reception or taxis. One local shop, for local people - all of whom seem to be in front of me in the queue. All seeming to have a burning desire to recount their life history to the wizened old crone behind the counter. Why, I don't know, they're all obviously blood relatives.
But, anyway I digress. I'm at the wedding. As is the "who you doin" girl. And she's distinctly frosty. Anyone would think I'd insulted her or something.
Her sister on the other hand is more than friendly. Now this is the first time I've met the sister. I didn't even know of the existence of the sister. Ok, she may have mentioned her, but I probably wasn't paying attention. But, I really feel that if she did have a: younger, prettier, considerably leggier and (lest you thing I'm in any way superficial), rather cultured sibling; she should have made more of an effort drawing it to my attention.
But anyway, I'm making up for lost time. So sis and I are soon deep in conversation, and thing's are moving in the right direction; when she drops this into the mix:
Little sis: "my sister's pretty isn't she"
hmmmm there may be trouble ahead....
Me: "err yeah" (it's my conversation skills they go for........)
Little sis: "I'd do her" <REALLY, REALLY LONG, PAUSE> "If I were a bloke"
I drift off for a moment (I'm cursed with a vivid imagination). And whilst I'm idly pondering how I'm going to get her into a taxi (ox cart, or whatever passes for transportation round here), the obligatory boyfriend enters the scene.
Within 5 minutes Guy has told me he drives an M5; owns his own company (doing some trivial little thing, trivial little companies do); and posted a (less than trivial) £2.6 million profit last year. An "I'm Guy, and I'm a wanker" would have sufficed.
If I didn't want to sleep with her before, I certainly do now. But it isn't that kind of party. I've got to play nice. Our charming hosts have gone to a lot of trouble. It really wouldn't do to make a scene...blah...blah. Ah for the impetuousness of youth.
So he spends the rest of the evening glued to her side; and I leave without a mobile number or even an (oh so casually arranged) future meeting - ho hum.
But, maybe if I got back together with big sister, then maybe I could....
![[John Peel through the ages]](http://theundertones.net/john_peel.jpg)
