In the afternoons we sat with our relatives, parents, uncles, cousins. They told the stories of the week. My uncle was particularly a liar. Always with his fictional anecdotes. None of that was true was true; It all came from a creative mind. We knew it in the family, but we liked to hear it. I liked to ask him innocently about this and that. He immediately created unlikely situations with his proactive mind.

It sounds like he missed his calling as a novelist! There’s an art to telling a lie so unlikely that it becomes entertaining.