It was a game much like any other badminton game between my sister and I: we donned our knee socks, stilettos and matching skirts and went into the backyard to play for volleys...
But then something went awry: the birdie went over the fence and names were called as to whose fault it was:
I graciously let my sister know that I thought it was her fault, practically inviting her to tea at the Queen's Palace with politeness
"One!", I replied, "Care for a scone?"
Maybe it was the way I asked, with the gravelly voice of my youth, but the corner of her mouth twitched and before I knew it we had dissolved into a fit of laughter
where moments before we were hostile...
Isn't it just like sisters to do that?
The J & A Show, 25th anniversary edition