Paphos People

EMPATHY

Empathy in twins is very common, my sister Lizzie and I are twins and we grew up in Liverpool in the nineteen fifties. We were known as the Morrison twins, a right pair of scallies. Whenever anything happened at school the cry would go up ‘ I bet it’s those Morrison twins again!’ and very often it was. Although we weren’t identical, we always knew if something had happened to the other, a sort of sixth sense which is nowadays called empathy.
Liverpool in those days was not a good place for school leavers, further education was for ‘posh’ kids, so the likes of us had to get a job. Work was either in the docks, a building site or a shop. Lizzie took the option of working in Woollies and seemed to be quite content.

I wanted more. I wanted to see life the world and what it had to offer!!

The Army recruiting office provided a good opportunity to do all of that so I joined up to serve Queen and Country.
Lizzie thought I was mad but doing something different and interesting with my life was what I wanted.
My dad was shocked having worked in the docks he had avoided the conflict of war but had to dodge the bombs at work and home.

But this was the relatively peaceful post war period, the army was a great organisation to be in and an ambitious person, which I was, could rise up through the ranks with ease. Lance corporal, full corporal and finally my ultimate goal sergeant was achieved in the space of five years. It felt great!
Lizzie on the other hand had worked diligently in her job and had met a lad, Jamie. He was a builder and not afraid of hard work, they were getting on okay and set a date for the wedding.

That was a grand affair and I wore my full dress uniform the two families were there and most unusually, for Scousers, there were no arguments or fights!

Returning to Germany the following day to rejoin my regiment I was glad to get back to a regular routine.
All went well for about a year, until one morning I was struck with severe stomach pains, struggling to get up from the chair and finally collapsing in a heap on the floor.
The M.O. admitted me to the camp hospital for observation. I was in agony and it seemed to be getting worse. They were at a loss as to what to do as I was screaming in pain. This seemed to go on all day. The M.O. came to see me at eight o clock that night.
“We’ll have to open you up and have a look” he said and ordered the nursing staff to start to prepare me for surgery.
Then as quickly as they had started the pains subsided and the operating crew stood down.
“I don’t understand it” said the M.O. “but we’ll keep you in overnight just to be sure”
Next morning, feeling right as rain I returned to my quarters to find a telegram waiting for me.

‘To Sergeant Morrison
Lizzie gave birth to a healthy baby boy at eight o clock last night after an eight hour painless labour in Liverpool hospital. stop.
Mother and baby doing well! stop.
Mum and Dad’stop.

That explained everything I’d had all the labour pains for my sister it had been true empathy indeed between twins.
I went down to the sergeant’s mess that evening.
“Hey lads” I shouted “Drinks on me”
“Great! What’s the occasion?” they replied.
“It’s not every day a bloke becomes an uncle.”