Who the hell am i?

When i was a little sprouty, i had a famous dad.
Not famous in the conventional 'i know you, you're on the telly' sense.

More like ' i know you- your dad took me to school'.
My dad was the most famous coach driver in the whole of the West Midlands- he would always put Radio one on in exchange for a cache of Mars Bars, and had been known to strap children to the roof rack, if behaving too badly.

I am not joking- you wouldn't get away with that these days....bloody health and safety.
Any how.
I was always 'The Bus Drivers Daughter'.
For years.

Time moves on, and i'm ok with this.
Then my sister, who is younger than me, gets much louder than me.
And suddenly it's 'i know your sister- she used to have that pub in town didn't she? And she used to work 'The Doors'- chucked me out of many a club, she did'.

Great.

Now, My lovely dad passed on a few years ago, so i don't get 'the Bus Drivers Daughter' bit so often...and lovely sister has settled down and quitened down, so i thought i could finally be me.

I went for a meal with a goup of ladies from the local villages recently- at least half of them are newcomers, and didn't know me.
I was intoduced to a few.
One woman pipes up;
'I know you!'
I smile, thinking she must recognise me from amateur dramatics or at some point, she has seen me staggering from one house to the next, laden with mop, bucket and feather duster.

'You're married to Sy aren't you- he always performs the most brilliant Tam O'Shanter on Burns Night.'

So- Sy has made his mark.
And instead of being 'daughter of' and 'sister of', i am now 'wife of'.

And bearing in mind that this is where i have lived almost forever, and Sy has been here all of five minutes (well, eight years, but it's the same thing in village speak), you can imagine.

I am pretty pissed off.

till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx