I am the fifth of six children. My oldest brother and I thought the same, worked and travelled overseas, shared the same sense of humour. My three sisters, on the other hand were stay at homes, scared of travelling, even on a train in case they got lost, and to this day have not been persuaded that technology can be useful. They are proud of the fact that they don't have mobile phones, computers and that they pay all their bills with cheques or cash. One sister received a letter from a utility company informing her that they would no longer accept cheques and all bills must be paid by direct debit or via bank transfer online. She telephoned the company and said that either they accept her cheques, delivered by normal post, or she wouldn't pay. They backed down. They are a sister clique, of which I have never been part, because we are like chalk and cheese and because I have never really lived in the UK. In January a sister rang me to say that she would be having an 80th birthday but she had forgotten to invite me and when our mother died decades ago they forgot to tell me. Yet when they want help or advice they ask me. Families are strange things, my brother and I are clearly Darbys, in a straight line from our father while my sisters are like our mother. In this strange situation we all manage to get on, we never argue or fall out with each other. They think my brother and I are strange and we just accept them as they are. So why did someone buy me a book for Christmas called, 'How to kill your family'
I don't want to hear another person say that women should be equal to men. There is no 'should' about it, women ARE equal to men but they are not treated equally. It has never occurred to me that I am not equal to any man. Am I treated equally? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It requires a step change in the way women think of themselves as being equal before we can hope for attitudes, legislation, economics to follow and that is my rant for the day. Ever since I have lived in France I have noticed a stark difference between the French and the British sense of humour. The dry, irreverent humour of the British is completely wasted on the French, and the Dutch and the Americans sometimes for that matter. Clearly the British humour is unique. Yesterday I gave an article to a French friend to read. It was a humorous piece, self deprecating about a woman suffering an attack by an insect on her face with hideous result...
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