Blood Is Thicker Than Soap And Water

Blood Is Thicker Than Soap And Water

The story you are about to read is a true story about my dad, George Hurst, and his sister, my Auntie Nellie. It happened when they were little, on what turned out to be one very bad day at school.

My dad George and his twin sister Nellie were born in 1919, just a few minutes apart. They were two out of twelve children, all living together in a little two bedroom terraced house on Old Road, Ashton in Makerfield, Lancashire. There was not much money in them days, and there was not much room either, but that was how families lived, and they just got on with it.

School was different then as well. Teachers were strict, very strict, and when you were told to do something, you did it. Well most children did anyway, but not always Nellie.

One day my dad George was sitting in the classroom, when he said something he should not have said. Oh bloody hell. Well the teacher heard him, and that was it, George was in trouble.

The teacher called Nellie over, and told her to go and fetch a bowl of water, a flannel, some soap and a towel. Nellie did as she was told, and brought them all back. I bet George was wondering what on earth was coming next, because I know I would have been.

Then the teacher told George to come to the front of the class, and stick his tongue out. George did as he was told. Then the teacher turned to Nellie, and told her to wash his tongue with the soap and flannel.

Nellie looked at George, then she looked at the teacher. No. The teacher told her again, Nellie, do as you are told. But Nellie was not having any of it. No. There was no way Nellie was going to wash her own brothers tongue out with soap. The teacher could tell her once, twice or a hundred times, Nellie was not doing it.

Then the bowl went flying, water went everywhere, all over the place, and Nellie ran. Off she went down the school corridor, her clogs clattering on the floor, and her little legs going as fast as they could carry her. My dad George was not hanging about either, he ran after her.

So there they were, George and Nellie, legging it down the school corridor, leaving behind one very angry teacher, a bowl of water, a bar of soap, a flannel, a towel, and probably a classroom full of children trying not to laugh. I wish I could have seen it, because I can just imagine them two running home together, knowing full well they were probably going to be in even more trouble when they got there.

But Nellie would not do it. That was her brother, her twin, and nobody was going to make her wash his mouth out with soap. Not even the teacher. It might only be a funny little story from when my dad and Auntie Nellie were children, but it stayed in our family, and it was told to me.

And now I am telling it. Because all them years ago, on one bad day at school, Nellie showed exactly where her loyalty was. With her brother George. You could bring the bowl, you could bring the water, you could bring the flannel and the soap, but you could not make Nellie turn on her twin brother.

Because sometimes blood really is thicker than soap and water.