Advice Part 79- Only children

My childhood was what you could best describe as "pretty average." My family lived in suburbia, and the highlight of excitement in my pre-teen life was when I graduated to the status of Official Trolley Pusher when my parents did their Saturday afternoon shop (variation from the Saturday afternoon routine was NOT permitted- that would have been too radical).

Ho hum.

But my family differed from the "domestic idyll" in one important way.

I am an only child.

My advice to young players is that, contrary to popular belief, only children ARE NOT a different species. They may in fact be perfectly normal human beings, who don't appreciate having ridiculous questions asked of them.

How do I know this? Read on......

It was only when I started primary school that I became aware that I was a bit unusual, in that I didn't have any siblings. I was that dreaded being..... the only child. And, to make matters worse, I was the only only child in my grade. Consequently, whenever the teachers or parents wanted to trumpet stereotypes of only children, I was always on the receiving end.

Here are just a few of the select comments which have been directed my way.....

• "Oh, you must have been so sad and lonely because you had no one to play with. That's why you're so quiet!" (Well, no. I wasn't actually sad or lonely. And I think my genetics may also partially explain why I'm quiet....)
• "Wouldn't you like brothers and sisters?" (Short answer-no)
• "You always want to get your own way. Typical only child." (I think I would want to get my own way REGARDLESS of whether I have siblings or not!!!!)
• "You must have been so spoilt!" (Err, no.)
• "Your parents must have put so much pressure on you to achieve" (Well, thank you for that analysis of my parents' psychology. But to be honest, they really don't care what I do)
• and my personal favourites: "Why didn't your parents have more kids?" (You know what? I really haven't asked my parents about their sex life. If you want to know more, why don't YOU go and inquire?)
• "Do you only want one child?" (Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I don't want children at all- (shock, horror!). But whatever I choose, that's MY BUSINESS, not yours!)

Usually, I just smiled and made some banal comment. But what on earth is the deal here? I don't have any brothers and sisters so GET OVER IT! And don't try and analyse my character on the basis of my lack of siblings.

And yes, that was spoken like a true selfish, spoilt, opinionated only child!

Advice Part 78- Peanut butter trouble

Through long and arduous years of careful and well-thought out research, I have reached the following conclusion- I have what could best be described as "a bit of a problem" with peanut butter.

Or, more precisely, I have an addiction so bad that even writing this post is causing the craving centre of my brain to go into peanut butter hunting overdrive.

My advice to young players is that if you have an addiction similar to mine, it is of UTMOST importance to ensure that anyone who you are sharing a house with is aware of your issue. Otherwise, domestic disharmony is bound to ensue.

How do I know this? Read on....

A few years ago, at the ripe old age of 26, I finally took wing from the parental nest, and moved into a house in Annandale. I was sharing with a lady who I'll refer to as Scarlett, who worked part-time in a record store.

In the interests of appearing sane, I decided to withhold from Scarlett that whilst I can resist chocolate, cheese, potato chips, and other guilty pleasure foods, I am POWERLESS when faced with the lure of a nice fresh jar of peanut butter, just waiting to be devoured with a spoon.

MMMMMM!!!!!!

Scarlett also liked peanut butter. But not as much as me. She kept a little jar in the fridge (mad, I know), and would sporadically enjoy a spread on toast.

This almost killed me.

So, one day (and I'm not proud of this, might I just add), I decided to "have a little taste" of the contents of the jar. And, needless to say, the ENTIRE JAR soon disappeared down the proverbial plughole.

Oh. Dear.

Realising that I'd stuffed up big time, I made a dash to the shop, where I hastily purchased a replacement jar for the fridge. But as the original jar was half empty, I had to eat half of the replacement jar, too, in order to ensure that my bad food stealing behaviour went unnoticed.

I thought I had done pretty well with the job.

But obviously not well enough, as Scarlett IMMEDIATELY spotted the ruse. Apparently, the surface of the peanut butter was really smooth, showing it had been eaten with a spoon, rather than roughly stirred up, as it would have been if the consumer (I use the word intentionally) had used a knife.

Caught.

I was absolutely mortified, and resolved NEVER to touch her peanut butter again. Which was easier said than done, let me assure you.

But I think that if I ever have to share a house again, I am going to stipulate that any potential co-tenants be allergic to peanuts.....