This situation happened last summer, on a Friday. My wife was at work, so my daughter and I set off to the local market in Manchester to do the shopping.
Once we’d ticked off everything on our list, we made our way back home.
When we arrived, we started on the household chores. My daughter set about cleaning the living room, while I got started in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Out of the blue, I heard the unmistakable screech of car brakes outside. It turned out some distant relatives had arrived my cousin Sarah, her husband Ian, and their 15-year-old daughter Emily.
I brought them inside and quickly laid out some snacks. I asked what brought them over. Turns out, Sarahs birthday had been yesterday and they decided to drop in for a visit.
Of course, I wasnt the least bit ready for guests. While they sipped their tea, I rang my wife to explain the predicament. She suggested we do a barbecue, reminding me we had some pork in the freezer, just right for grilling.
I went back and explained that we hadnt planned for guests, but offered up the barbecue as a solution. I said Id get the meat marinating and wed be ready to eat just in time for when my wife arrived home from work.
They nodded in agreement, settled themselves on the sofa, flicked on the telly, and started watching some Friday night sitcom.
Honestly, I felt a bit awkward. I asked Ian if he could help chop the meat for the grill, but he complained his arm was giving him trouble. Sarah grumbled she felt poorly from the drive, rolled over and focused on the programme.
I just got on with it, quietly slicing and marinating the meat on my own. In the end, my daughter and I prepared everything laid the table, cooked the food and neither of them so much as offered to help.
When my wife walked in, I calmly explained what had happened. She was taken aback and muttered that my relatives were extremely rude. Then, she called everyone to the table.
Dinner was awkwardly quiet. Everyone ate in silence; Ian immediately grabbed three kebab skewers and started eating with barely a pause. My wife shot me a look I could tell she was unhappy with their manners.
After wed all finished, I asked if anyone would help with the washing up, hoping maybe theyd offer. Yet again, nothing. Sarah claimed her manicure was too fresh and that Emily couldnt possibly do it.
Then came the icing on the cake: they announced that it was too late to drive home and theyd have to spend the night in our bed, because Ians back needed a firm mattress.
At that, my wife snapped. She couldnt hold her tongue any longer and shouted,
Do you think this is a hotel? Fancy some servants? Pack your bags and find your way home!
I stood there, completely lost for words. I tried to calm my wife down, but my relatives were so embarrassed they grabbed their things in record time, dashed to the car and sped off down the road.
Looking back, I learned something vital that day peoples true colours show in the smallest acts of everyday life, so never be afraid to set boundaries in your own home.
