They treat this place like a hotel!

And I encourage them to do so...

I’m packing for a trip to see my adult kids who all live far and wide these days. It’s very different, visiting one’s kids on their turf from having them come home. Not that we stay with them as currently they’re all in house-share situations.

I can understand that no young person wants their housemates to encounter their parents clad in nightwear and blundering about in their kitchens shouting, ‘Is it okay to use this milk? WHOSE MILK IS THIS?’ And: ‘Would you like Dad to try and fix this broken cupboard?’

Or, God forbid, to hog their shower, using everyone’s body washes and shampoos, while said housemates are trying to get ready for work.

Some of my flat and house-shares over the years, my parents didn’t venture within a five-mile radius. I was reluctant to even reveal the addresses of some of those places.

D’you think this young woman was prepared to Receive Mother?

It was tempting to furnish them only with a PO Box number. Those mushrooms sprouting from the bathroom carpet were definitely Not For Parental Eyes (NFPE). Nor was the chemical loo on my houseboat. I did not want them to witness me being incapable of frying a chop, and then eat it, gamely, while trying not to be sick.

Jimmy tells me about one time, in a chaotic London flatshare, he was all settled in for a night on the beer with friends when the big old telephone rang: dring dring!

It was his mum and dad. As far as he was aware, they were many hundreds of miles away in Scotland.

‘Guess where we are?’

His blood curdled.

‘At the end of your road!’

No one wants that. So we stay with friends - a respectable distance from our adult offsprings’ residences.

When the kids come home to us it’s a different scenario.

Here’s what I do in preparation:

Rush around buying in their favourite treats, reminding myself that the Cheestrings phase ended 20 years ago and now they prefer a nice ripe Brie.

Buy smoked salmon as if ROYALTY are coming.

De-mould bread bin.

Remove mouse traps.

Fret that spare bedding is substandard and buy new sets from Ikea to prove how highly-functioning we are.

Fill the fridge to bursting, in preparation for being told that there is ‘nothing in.’

Hoover and dust and wash the skirting boards for crying out loud. Like anyone’s going to notice.

And when they’re here:

Not expect everyone to sit in a row watching TV together. Because watching TV together appears to be as antiquated as sitting around playing gramophone records.

Prepare to be told that our kitchen knives are blunt.

Argue that they’re fine, we never have any trouble them! *Hacks uselessly at lemon with bread knife.

Become defensive over undeniable evidence of moths. (‘Everyone has them!’).

Grant permission for them to steal their father’s socks.

Ditto white T-shirts.

And his best chocolate (there’s pleasure to be had in allowing them to take things that aren’t mine to give away).

Allow them to make off with any book (yes, even of mine) that catches their eye, even if I have yet to read it. ‘Take it, take it!’

Try to foist stuff on them that they don’t want. ‘Would you like this spare teapot? This ancient hot water bottle that hasn’t completely perished? There’s wear in it yet.’ (My mum always talked about rubberised items ‘perishing’).

Expect them to sit around guzzling wine at the kitchen table until dawn when of course, today’s youngsters carry water bottles and retire to bed at a sensible hour.

Let them run to their own hours without judgement or complaint. Of course they want to lie in. What else are they gonna do? Play Snakes & Ladder with me at 9.30 am?

So there you have it. Festoon them with smoked salmon while making no demands whatsoever and everything is always fine!

As for visiting them? It’s so temping to prank-call and say we’re at the end of their road. But I’d rather they were happy - and not sick to the gills - to see us.

Love,

Fiona xx

PS Obviously I never plunder my own family situations for my own creative ends. However! My new novel, The Full Nest, happens to be about the generations slamming together in one little house. It’s just 99p in ebook right now, and you can order it here!