Imagine the following to the sound of grinding teeth.
From the backseat:
“Keep to the left, won’t you?”
“Yes. Yes – it’s all clear now, I think you can go.”
At the holiday house:
“Did you lock the car Rie?”
“Shouldn’t we bring the empty bottles inside?”
After five hours drive and one minute from home:
“Do you need anything at home?”
“Maybe we should stop and get some milk?”
My valiant friends, Dave and Rie, have just survived (I’m assuming, no one has rung with bad news) over a month with Dave’s parents visiting from England. They have taken them on holiday to the beach, have tried to entertain them and give them the best possible time. Now, on the day of their departure, Rie’s nerves are completely shot, her self control is in tatters, her holidays are all used up and she still feels like she is yet to have a holiday. She goes back to work tomorrow. Dave is insisting that if he never sees his parents again, it will be too soon. Oh, the horror.
Halfway to the ‘holiday at the beach’ destination, they pulled over for the British restorative – a nice cup of tea. Dave’s parents were clucking over him.
“Oh, haven’t you driven well David?”
“Yes, David, well done. Good driving.”
Rie couldn’t bite her tongue fast enough.
“Yes, you’ve done brilliantly for a forty-one year old, David.”
And got parent-in-law daggers for her efforts.
From the sound of it, Jack (charming offspring of poor Dave and Rie) got revenge in his own way. He is accustomed to being allowed to run starkers around the house just before bathtime, waggling his bits with much enthusiasm, as three year olds apparently are wont to do. Dave’s parents found this fairly perplexing, but bearable. Then Jack decided to up it a notch, and instead of just getting jiggy with his willy, decided to rut joyously against Dave’s dads leg. The expression of horror on his face almost made the whole visit worthwhile. Dave and Rie stood by, stifling a combination of awe and hysteria….and eventually coaxed him to the bath…
The Eighth Wonder of the World occurred when Dave attended an 11am session at the cinema. It was a stinking hot day – could there be anything better to do that didn’t involve cold gin and tonics? No. Obviously the perfect idea to take the visiting parents to the cinema – it practically guarranteed their silence for a whole ninety minutes. But, no fear, when Rie asked if they’d like to go and see a film, Dave’s mother responded, not with a yes or a no, but with the verbal ejaculation;
“The cinema? The cin-e-ma? I haven’t been to a cinema in thirty years…”
They spent the rest of the day (and night, which happened to be New Years Eve) fixated on the amazing phenomenon of Dave going to the cinema in the [gasp] Middle of the Day. Astounding.
Finally, as I type this, I imagine that Dave and Rie and Jack are all strewn horizonatally over the lounge suite as they visualise the Parents-of-Dave flying off into the stratosphere… They deserve a medal for merely surviving, and another one for surviving relatively [sorry] intact.