My husband comes from a cheerful, close-knit family. But when my father-in-law turned 57, sadly, the matriarch passed away. Naturally, it was tough on him. So, we decided wed sell his flat in Manchester, split the proceeds between ourselves and my brother-in-laws lot, and bring my father-in-law to live with us until he got back on his feet. And so, thats what happened.
I figured, give it six months, maybe a year, and hed be ready to buy his own place and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. Wrong. Turns out, he settled in rather nicely. For council tax, utilities or food, not a penny came from his wallet. I did the cooking, the laundry, and kept his room tidy. He just toddled off to work and came home to a lifestyle that could rival a spa break.
Eleven years later, he was still under our roof. Then started the unsolicited advice: how to do things, when to do them, and generally running our household like it was his own. So, we finally decided to buy him a little house just outside Londonlovely spot, easy access to town. Hes a strapping bloke, more than capable of living independently.
We sorted the house for him, got everything ship-shape and ready. Suddenly, he developed aches, pains and mysterious heart troublesanything to avoid moving out. Quite the drama. But to be honest, Ive had enough Im exhausted.
