Is your brother the kind of guy that would open that can of worms?
Temperamentally, possibly; but I don't think he'd be willing to put forward the sustained effort it'd take. (Which I think is healthier for him anyway, he has in the past got hung up on past grievances too readily. As long as this guy doesn't start hurting his chances at any other job that comes up.)
Anyway, we had a lovely time at my sister's place. Gareth's kids didn't show, but Ryan had lost of fun playing with Kathleen's kids. With the exception of one incident: he and his eight year old nephew Andrew were playing a game where they took turns running down the hall and jumping on a beanbag. Andrew starting pulling the beanbag out of the way as Ryan neared it, which Ryan was enjoying; but then on one occasion he waited too long to pull it out of the way, and Ryan couldn't change course in time. My little boo smacked his head into the (brick) wall, and that was the end of that game.
Meanwhile, way back when she was eighteen my sister hooked up on a Gold Coast beach with an unemployed surfer guy named Axle. (His best friend was called Handlebar. There has been much speculation among my siblings of the possible existence of another friend called Dipstick.) Said surfer visited her in Canberra six months later (after he'd saved up enough of his dole). It went poorly, a tale I have recounted here before, which ended with a family friend headbutting Axle at a bar called Mooseheads.
Last night I learned more details, of their first and only date. Kathleen determined that this guy might not be a keeper when, instead of sitting and talking to her, he vacated to the alley out back to drink goon with a homeless person. To be fair, the signs were there earlier in the evening as recounted thus:
"And when we were walking to the restaurant, he harassed a pair of girl scouts!"
"Wait, how did he harass them?"
"He shouted, 'Show us your cookies!'"
We're back home now. That was a great holiday.