The next best thing to a good family is a good family feud. You know the kind of thing : Uncle Frank hasn't spoken to his Cousin Sid since some imagined slight whilst the pair of them were on a day out to Doncaster Races in 1954. That great British comedian, Al Read, managed to sum this particular aspect of Northern working class life up in one memorable phrase : "There was enough said at our Edie's wedding". The real causes of such familial rifts are often lost in antiquity, the stuff of family speculation and legends. So, in the interests of future generations of the Burnett family, I would like to take this opportunity of putting on record the origins of an emerging feud in the family : the row between myself and my brother Roger.
It all started with my current Sepia Saturday post (Digging Around In The Anderson Shelter) and my carefully argued conclusions that it was a youthful Alan Burnett in the photograph. Everything was going fine and I was being congratulated on my evidential analysis and reasoning : until my brother added his "two-penneth worth", as we used to say in Yorkshire. I was wrong he declared : it wasn't Southmere Drive, it wasn't 1948, and most important of all it wasn't Alan Burnett! It was him : Roger Burnett.
Well, I ask you! Who taught him how to send e-mails, who passed on to him the secrets of blogging? Before I instructed him in the digital arts he was nothing more than a water-colour painter and sculptor. And how does he repay me? By shooting me down : demolishing my credibility on my own blog. All you have to do is to look at the profile pictures above. The elderly gent on the left is my brother, the youthful and vibrant chap on the right is none other than myself. Now I ask you, who looks more like the baby in question. No don't tell me ... there was enough said at our Edie's wedding.