Two weeks ago, I had an enjoyable night out with my younger brother.

We live in different cities in the UK, so we traveled to a city in the middle-distance by train, so that we could both relax and enjoy a drink of alcohol with our conversation.

I carry some pain over what I perceive to be a lack of warmth in our relationship, and in truth I felt slightly anxious about our encounter as I went to meet him.

I had hoped that the conversation would turn, at least for part of the evening to the conflict I manage in respect of my sexuality, which he is aware of, but it did not do so, except momentarily in relation to a point he was making about a work-related issue he was describing.

I enjoyed the evening.

We got on well, and the heart of our conversation was taken up by a thorough discussion on our opposing views to Brexit.

How revealing I thought, as I reflected on the conversation on my way home, that we are from the same womb and yet we perceive the world so differently from each other.

Of course, our commonality of parentage, is a bond which I hope will provide a lasting basis for our relationship, but I know that even that is not guaranteed if we allow the differences between us to tear us apart.

From the same womb and yet, wired so differently in our attitudes to the world in which we inhabit, despite having shared a room as children and young adults, attended the same schools, and shared the same relations, neighbours and parish friends.

Our joint faith, our love for our family and our commitment to be there for each other  should the chips be down is a sign of a strong bond between us which despite our differences in political outlook, and in emotional; sexual and intellectual capacity, is I hope, something which will endure until the end of our lives.

My next blog will be: A Matter of Trust

William Defoe