More stillborn memories

I do remember though, some distant year, musta been 1980 or somethin, a dim recollection of the massive brooding castle of a brick house, as it seemed to me then, all humdrum with the idea of my dad inside it.
I remember emerging from the dark door in some idyllic evening, setting off to play with toys, being humble and disappointed, having to rush down some dark stone steps, I was too chubby and slow to keep up with my brother who was all blonde and dashing, going to cavort in fields with his eager friend.
Taking off into the afternoon perhaps, he was two years older than me.
I was usually red-cheeked and jovial, bumbling along to play happy games, yet I was left behind on the dank step, glumly... I seem to remember the idea of my mother pitying me in the doldrum hallway, brown memories, I remember maybe the idea of some plastic pullalong toy in one of these vast, fragrant bedrooms off the hall... It's all jumbled together and maybe I dreamed this too, and yet it's all connected to the idea of wild blue yonders and buzzy fields of vacant grass and stalks of thinny reed by the house as well as ancient buckled iron fences, where the kids can caper...
I seem to remember the idea of my sister, only 7 or 8 herself, sharp black hair and vampiristic red lips laughing along with a little girl joke inside.