THE QUACK

Shopping is an independent activity for me because I don’t want to torture loved ones. Whether it’s food, cleaning products or a basic white T-shirt, I will analyse and compare before committing to the purchase.

It’s when I’m standing in Tesco, making the long, hard weekly decision of whether to buy the whole wheat linguine or the whole wheat penne, that I wish I could be more like my brother Joe.

 

Joe is the middle child. He goes from one moment to the next like a monkey swinging from vine to vine without the fear of falling. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow or even the next moment. He just – swings. 

Having this trait has got him into trouble throughout life. My childhood wouldn’t be my childhood without the background noise of Joe being told off. Whenever we were told to stop fighting, I would freeze, but Joe would sneak in that final punch. He couldn’t help himself; it was as if it was a natural bodily function like sneezing. He would always, always, get caught. After all, Joe is a blonde giant; it’s like the honey monster trying to do something on the sly. 

It made for good entertainment, though; only Joe would let himself be locked into a hotel camp bed by his siblings. Of course, we were going to leave him in the middle of a hotel corridor with his feet sticking out one side and his head on the other. But Joe didn’t see this coming – so he willingly laid down and let us clip him in. 

When Joe announced that he was going to move to the Amazon rainforest to set up an Inn, we all assumed this was another idea that he hadn’t thought through. It’s a common dream amongst middle-class millennials to give up their urban ways and live an alternative life, but most are happy with the back roads of Bulgaria to make them feel adventurous. Joe, on the other hand, wants to live and work where tarantulas roam freely.

Still, years have passed, and Joe is in the Amazon rainforest with an Inn. He has also somehow learnt Portuguese. I’ve been on the phone with him, and he’s stopped mid-conversation to start yelling something foreign.

 “Sorry,” he said returning to the speaker, “I needed to tell the chef we need extra beef tonight…”

There have been moments when things haven’t gone to plan. When he first settled there, he wanted a pet and decided to buy a micro-pig online. The tiny pig arrived, and he named her Pignelopy. It was soon discovered that Pignelopy wasn’t a micro-pig, but a piglet that rapidly grew into a full-sized pig.

She devoted herself to Joe and followed him wherever he went, until the day she disappeared.

“I think she got eaten by an anaconda,” Joe told me one day on the phone. He was upset, but admitted that having a pig following him around all day did get in the way…

SO,

Back in the UK, I was still deliberating over penne or linguine in the pasta section at Tesco. Penne this week. I put it in my basket, and my week carried on as planned.

If you ever fancy going to Brazil…. https://www.pousadaamazonia.com