Happy 50th birthday baby brother

AdrianOnce upon a time I used to be an only child – but fifty years ago today that all changed.

The arrival of Adrian Paul Liddiment on June 11th 1963 marked the start of a long love-hate relationship between myself and my baby brother that continues today.

We have never grown out of childish squabbles – and know how to push each other’s buttons without even trying. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have shouted:

MUM TELL HIM!!!

Of course, I’d defend him to the death against strangers, but take a perverse delight in being able to wind him up – and this is reciprocated.

I believe I have had much provocation over the years for example, by having my dolls’ eyelashes pulled out (apparently it was fun to see their eyes roll back in their heads). Yes, I know that was probably 45+ years ago, but a grudge is a grudge.

In return, my brother loves to recount one of very few occasions when I received a smack (back when it was normal operating parental practice).

Today we can call a truce – as the poor old boy has to cope with reaching his golden anniversary. As he’d say in return, “But, I’ll never be as old as you…”

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Heather Yaxley PhD

Dr. Heather Yaxley is passionate about sustainable careers, reflective practice and professional development. I am a rhizomatic educator, practitioner, consultant, academic and scholar. As a qualified academic, I teach the CIPR professional qualifications with PR Academy and have experience teaching at various Universities. I run the Motor Industry Public Affairs Association (MIPAA) and my own strategic consultancy. I was awarded by PhD researching Career Strategies in Public Relations by Bournemouth University in 2017. I'm a published author, with books, chapters and academic papers to my name.

3 thoughts on “Happy 50th birthday baby brother”

  1. Andy – I’m surprised I didn’t fall over with hair that tall (and backcombed). I remember having rags put in at bedtime for ringlets and a complicated multi-bun option on occasion too. Mind you, my grandmother used to dye her hair colour to match her ballroom dancing dresses – so sometimes her hair was lilac or pink. Don’t think they ever did that to me!

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