When I was around six years old Sheila came marching up to me and demanded: –

“Do you know what Dad’s name is?”

Well, of course I did! I was the older brother.

It’s “Dad”

“No man, his real name!”

What did she mean? Oh, of course – I’d heard Mom call him that lots of times.

“Peter”

“No. It’s PIETER GERHARDUS!!”

What rubbish! I’d never heard such foul language! And this from my MUCH younger sister! She was a whole year younger’n me. Which was like: All of living memory!

Amazingly, investigation and enquiry proved her right!

~~~oo0oo~~~

(this snippet had an interesting sort-of replay years later)