My brother is six years my senior. It was some years back nowthree, I believewhen he married and decided to settle in his wifes flat, rather than stay on with our parents. Given the steep rents in the city, I saw the sense in it; they truly had little alternative. For myself, Id already been wed for six years and had two children by thena son of six and a daughter of four. My wife comes from London, so naturally we made our home there. Both of us held jobs, and between us, managed to purchase a modest flat by taking out a mortgage.
Not long ago, I received a letter from my parents informing me that my brother and his family would be coming up to see us for a week, assuming I would put them up in my own flat. Though it had been ages since Id last seen my brother, and I was glad at the prospect of catching up, I simply didnt have space to host them. The four of usnot counting the odd catmanage in a single-bedroom flat as it is.
When we met at the train station, we spent a pleasant day showing them about the city. Over supper, my parents pressed again: surely, I could make room for my brother, his wife, and their little one, since renting even a room in the capital is a costly affair. But I just couldnt agreeI had nowhere to put them without upending my own familys comfort.
That evening, I attempted to smooth things over by offering to book them into a nearby hotel, but my brother bristled at the suggestion, insisting they ought to stay with us. I pointed out several optionsa hotel, a guest house, even a short let from friendsbut every proposal was dismissed out of hand. It was clear enough: they wished to remain in London at our expense, expecting free lodging and board besides.
Still, I remain convinced I was within my rights to refuse; after all, my first duty is to the welfare of my wife and children. They deserve to live in decent, peaceful conditions, not to have their only home turned upside down for a week. And, if truth be told, I owe no one accommodationnot even my family.
