It's been exciting, the Olympics - it really has. All those amazing human bodies everywhere you look, doing all those amazing things. But it's important to remember that not all competition is good for us. Let me tell you a story ...
Here’s how it
is. I have an older sister. This is not unusual. Many people do. And many people find their older sisters
irritating. But no one has an older sister who is as irritating as mine.
Because
mine has done everything.
Let
me give you an example of how irritating this can be.
When
I was about to go to university, my sister came into my room and handed me a
nice, leather-bound notebook.
“This
is for you,” she said.
“Oh,
thanks! Is it a journal, for me to write
my experiences with boys and men in?”
“No. It’s a journal in which I’ve written my experiences with boys and men. Read it carefully, and you won’t have to make
the same mistakes I did.”
“Oh. Well, what makes you think I won’t make my
own, new mistakes?!”
My
sister just smiled. “I think you’ll find
I’ve already made them all.”
Well,
I wasn’t having that. I went off to
university and set out to make all the mistakes my sister hadn’t.
I
thought, I’ll date my professors – I’ll
date my room-mate’s brother – I’ll date the entire football team – I’ll date
the janitor … but when I checked, I found that every bad idea I came up
with had an entry in my sister’s journal already.
It
was when I saw the sign called for recruits for the newly-formed Scottish
Historical Re-enactment Group that I realised I’d cracked it!
This
she hadn’t done, I was sure!
It
turned out the Group consisted of two boys – Trevor (the president) and Greg
(the co-president). They were wearing
Braveheart wigs and cardboard swords.
“We
don’t get a lot of girls,” said Trevor.
“You
don’t get any girls,” said Greg.
“Yuckedy
yuck. Look who’s talking.”
“At
least I’ve had a date!”
“Snogging
my cousin when she was unconscious doesn’t count as a date!”
Wow! I thought. This
has got to be the best mistake EVER – my sister won’t be able to hold a candle
to this!
“Anywho,”
said Trevor. “We’d better get
started. As you know, Historical
Re-enactment Groups strive for absolute accuracy. To that end, we will be performing the Battle
of Bannockbuns wearing nothing but our tattoos.”
“What?!”
I said.
“In
the historical nuddy. You, too, of
course, Miss. But don’t worry, it’s not
as if we’ll be really naked. Greg and I have painted ourselves with blue
runic letters, just to make it decent, and we’d be more than happy to do the
same for you, wouldn’t we, Greg? Greg?”
The
co-president’s eyes had glazed over in a worrying fashion.
“Never
mind him,” said Trevor. “Here, let me
show you mine …”
As
the president of the Scottish Historical Re-enactment Group began to strip off,
I beat a hasty retreat …
I
phoned my older sister as soon as I got in, and told her about my
experience. I waited for her to say,
“Well! Now that’s something that never happened to me!” but I waited in vain.
“Oh
yeah. I did that,” came her voice, as
smug and superior as ever. “I think
you’ll find some pretty clear advice on the whole re-enactment thing, round
about page 87. Look it up. Bye!”
No way, I thought to myself. No
bloody way. She’s bluffing. She has to be! But she wasn’t. When I turned to page 87, there it was, my older
sister’s warning, staring up at me in big, black, undeniable
words:
BEWARE
GEEKS BARING GLYPHS ...
There are some competitions you are never going to win, and sometimes even taking part is a bad idea. Choose your battles, my friends. Choose your battles.
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