Mental scars. Attributed to having a sister who was two years younger.
The path of life rather unfairly involves the accumulation of skills. It is an undisputed fact that the gentle sex evolved greater manual dexterity after generations of housekeeping duties. How else to explain that Ringlets was first to cut up her own food? The pattern of life was set.
Comment from an otherwise loving mother: "Come on Sixpence, your sister can tie her own laces". Being asked by that same caring sibling: "Shall I teach you to tell the time?"
Screaming uncontrollably when I playfully peer into her bedroom wearing Mum's gas mask.
Some skills were not threatening. Skipping, juggling with balls, Irish dancing, and many others were recognised as 'sissy', and a challenge that could safely be ignored. Other skills, peculiar to boys, mostly involving bodily functions and distance covered, are probably best left undiscussed.
Doing algebra homework; Ringlets, apparently intent only on Cat's Cradle, smugly announces: "That's three he's got wrong". Realising that the boy at the door, easily the best footballer in the district, wasn't calling for me.
Watching her play "Up the Lazy River" on Aunt Daisy's upright piano during a family singsong; knowing that she'd never had a lesson in her life.
Today, at the peak of my vintage, seeing her name and address listed as a winner alongside the cryptic crossword attempted each week. One significant transgression cannot be forgiven. She could have been a close friend with Muriel and her ponytail -- but wasn't.