My family popped up for their Christmas visit today. It was a fine old time we had. I ran about like a blue-arsed fly as they say and everyone sat and laughed heartily at little old me waiting on everyone hand and foot.
The family think I am posh. Mostly because I no longer live in the stabby stabby, fighty fighty area that I grew up in. When they visit my house in the burbs which is smaller than theirs. They gaze around them in wonder and fear as if being escorted around a gentleman's manor.
I wait on them hand and foot and try to make them as relaxed as I can.
Today was going exceptionally well. They had arrived and I had quickly hustled them in before they could start doffing their caps and apologising for being damp and poor.
I cracked out the beers and a 14-year-old Jamaican rum that I know my Dad likes.
We drank and chatted and passed around the little boom who was taking some time out from yelling to fill his nappy with chicken tikka.
All was going well. I could read the body language and see that they were starting to relax and not being all tense from being in the posh son's house.
Then the little lady decided to betray me.
She waltzed in and holding out some grapes, said.
Daddy, can we put these in the Larder?
I looked at her in amusement.
Erm, we don't have a larder darling. Where on earth did you get word from?
Ok, I will put them in the 'kitchen.'
She winked at me and headed into the kitchen.
I laughed, at least until I saw the sidelong glances that were being exchanged among my family. I could read what they were saying. The glances were all like ooo, he has a larder, ooo fancy dan boom has a larder!!
I don't have a larder. In fact, I am not entirely sure what a larder is but I have never cared enough to look it up.
We chatted about other things. Once again, I managed to put them at ease. My dad as usual asked,
What is it you do again son?
He has asked me this every time I have seen him for the last twenty years. I always answer in exactly the same way. I hold my hands out in front of me tapping at an imaginary keyboard and say computers.
At that, the whole family nod sagely and repeat it back as if they know what I am talking about.
Computers... Ahhhh.
Straight after telling him I worked with computers, complete with imaginary typing action I changed the subject to get back on familiar ground. The little lady came back in.
Daddy, have you told them we are reading 'Witches?'
Oh no lass, I hadn't. You can tell them!
She stood there and posed dramatically, holding her hands wide. My family looked on entranced.
We are reading 'Witches!' I love it!!
What do you love most about it?
Asked my dear old mum, sweating slightly because she probably needed the toilet but was too scared to ask if she could use ours.
I love the patterns of intrigue in it!
Shouted the little lady.
My family collectively jolted in shock.
I rolled my eyes at their visible flinching.
Oh well. I may as well get the fancy pipe out and start shouting about fox hunting.
