Let's say my brother and I have always had a rocky relationship. We are fans of teasing, fighting and generally making each others lives annoying. But hey, let's get one thing clear, nobody messes with my brother but me!
We got closer when I moved to England for university but would argue as soon as I stepped through the door. Now that he has moved to Madrid to start his university, things haven't really changed, but if we started to get along I think our parents would start to worry.
JoBro, as I like to call him and he hates to be called (hence why I call him JoBro), rang me on Friday evening: 'Charl, I'm coming home tonight. I'm really down and depressed. Can you pretty please pick me up from Malaga?' I rolled my eyes at the other end of the phone. Typical Jonathan. Such a drama queen.
He had rang Nanna and not even bothered to call the Mother and tell her! Clearly too scared of the Mother. So of course I agreed to go pick my little brother up.
This caused a bit of a family sensation. A full B household and both Grandmas all in the same place at the same time! We took advantage and had a sneaky lunch at Casa Barella in the glorious sunshine.
JoBro is fine. I think he just needed some home comforts and clearly he was missing his sister too much!