My brother and I changed together in a cubicle at the Gosforth Swimming Pool. This was when it first opened in the mid 1960s. We christened our willies with names. I’m five, he’s seven, or I’m six and he’s eight – something like that.
I can’t remember the name he gave his willy. It was a character from the Beano, I think. It might be something like Gnasher or Roger the Dodger.
I called my penis (also known as the cashew nut) as ‘Aunty Mary’. My mum had three aunts. There were two widows and the youngest Mary, who never married. They always came for Christmas Dinner.
Aunty Mary was small, slight, and like a nun in her manner. As a Quaker, she never drank. She was innocent in many ways. That’s why at age five or six I called my willy, Aunty Mary.
“Why?” My brother wanted to know.
“Because it’s small and harmless” was my reply. I used the term ‘Aunty Mary’ to refer to my penis for many years to come.
Those who knew the reason smiled.
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