I was playing with Lego on the old drawing room carpet when a drone flew overhead.

‘I’m sure that flying at this level must be illegal’ I said to my small companion.

The drone then shot away – only to return directly to the window next to me.

‘Piss off!’ I mouthed at its beady eye through the glass.

My sister came into the room dressed in a tiny white billowing mini-skirt that resembled a Tudor ruff. It barely covered her bottom.

‘RH is here’ she announced.

Then I understood that it was he who was the pilot of the drone. I supposed that family members were permitted to snoop around whenever they liked.

I found RH leaning on a kitchen counter. He was browsing through a leather-bound sepia book. I glanced at the pages and saw a copy of my birth certificate and some old family photos.

‘What is this?’ I asked. RH replied that it was a present for me. He had three copies, one for each sister.

‘Are they identical?’ I asked.

‘Yes’, he replied, ‘although there a fewer mistakes in the second and third imprints.’