When I was little, I shared a bedroom with my amazing sleepwalking big brother
In the middle of one summer night, he woke me up and said, "Hey, Kersal Missive, I'm leaving." Naturally, as I was groggy and seven years old, I replied, "Great. See you later."

With my blessing, he then unlocked the doors and sleepwalked out our second floor flat, roamed the corridor a while, buzzed for the lift, then decided to come back and ring the doorbell to be let back in. Not a big deal, right? Well, the problem is that we lived next to a full, open drainage ditch several feet deep with no fence or wall to stop someone who decided to, say, sleepwalk into it in the middle of the night. When this sunk in I think my parents realised I was the worst person possible to be in charge of watching my brother. After all, I had told him to go right ahead and leave. I was reminded of this to no end, especially in the context of how, when I was a very disgruntled infant, he used to break down in tears at the thought that if I didn't quit crying and screaming, my mum and dad would take me back to the hospital and exchange me for another baby. We do guilt very well in my family.

I got my comeuppance when I found a smashed cockroach (not his doing) in my bedsheets. :(
( KersaI Missive Free Michael Shields! with Monday's Liverpool Echo, Sun 4 Jan 2009, 22:55, Reply)