Last summer, on a Friday, I found myself alone at home because my husband was at work, so I decided to take my daughter Emily to the local market for a spot of shopping.
After we’d gathered what we needed, we made our way back home. Upon returning, we both settled into our usual household routineEmily tidied the sitting room while I got started in the kitchen, preparing something for supper.
Then, out of nowhere, we heard screeching brakes outside. Much to my surprise, it was our distant relativesmy cousin Charlotte, her husband Matthew, and their fifteen-year-old daughter Sophie.
I ushered them inside and quickly set about laying the table. I asked what had brought them round unannounced. Turned out it had been Charlotte’s birthday yesterday, and they’d decided on the spur of the moment to pay us a visit.
Naturally, I hadn’t prepared for guests, but whilst they settled in and sipped their tea, I rang my husband, Richard, to let him know about our unexpected visitors. Richard suggested we do a barbeque, mentioning there was special pork in the freezer waiting to be used.
I explained to Charlotte and the others that their arrival was a surprise and suggested we’d marinate the pork now and have it ready when Richard returned. They all nodded in agreement, then promptly made themselves comfortable on the sofa, switched on the telly, and proceeded to watch their favourite programme.
Watching this, I felt slightly bemused. I asked Matthew if he’d lend me a hand chopping the pork, but he complained his arm was aching, and Charlotte muttered about feeling poorly after the journey, turning away to focus on the television.
Resigned, I quietly got on with preparing and marinating the meat myself. Emily helped me with everything, including setting the table, but not once did our guests offer to assist.
When Richard got home, I relayed all that had happened. He looked rather surprised and remarked how cheeky my relatives were, then called everyone to the table.
We ate in near silence. Matthew greedily snapped up three skewers at once; Richard glanced at me, clearly unimpressed by their behaviour.
After we’d finished, I asked if anyone would help with the washing up, thinking perhaps they might finally pitch in. Instead, Charlotte refused, saying her manicure couldn’t possibly be ruined, and her daughter, Sophie, apparently ‘just couldn’t’ help.
It didn’t stop there. They declared it was far too late to head home and announced they’d be staying the nightinsisting they’d sleep in our bed because Matthew needed a firm mattress for his back.
That was the final straw. Richard stood up and couldn’t hide his frustration, exclaiming:
“Do you think this is a hotel, or that we’re your staff? Get your things together and head homenow!”
I was dumbfounded. As I tried to calm him down, our relatives grabbed their bags, dashed out, and sped off in their car, leaving both Emily and me in stunned silence. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how some people can be so oblivious to basic manners.
