ARE you seeing your parents at the weekend? Here’s how to be sure you have a tense and horrible time with them.
You go to them
Do you fancy a few days trapped in the past, realising how different you are now to how you were when you lived with them and yet also how disturbingly similar? Being back in your childhood home will also bring out the difficult teenager still dormant within you and make full-scale family rows a certainty. The food will be good, though.
They come to you
Invite them to come over to yours so you can feel judged for the state of your house/life choices and still be washing the million or so tea cups they got through on Tuesday. You’ll also be sleeping on the sofa because they’ve got your bed, so you’ll instantly regret inviting them and not have any privacy to have a good swear about it.
Do something special
Pile on the pressure to ‘have a nice time’ by going for a meal out or theatre trip. You’ll try to pretend you’re enjoying hearing how much more successful and loving your mum’s friends’ kids are than you, but with the cumulative stress of booking stuff you’ll suddenly lose your shit and the psychological flood gates will open in a really inappropriate place, eg. surrounded by shocked tourists in horribly twee tea shop.
Go on a mini-break together
When it comes to horrible times, a family holiday will never disappoint. And the shortest stint will be a long weekend, so no less than four days of hell. The possible areas of disagreement are numerous: what to do, where to go, what time to eat, where to eat, how much to spend and who pays for what. It’s like you’ve been given a menu of arguments and encouraged to try them all, free.
Pull out
Cancelling will make you all feel bad – and you’re not even in each other’s company. You’ll feel deeply guilty about having pulled out and claiming your dog’s ear suddenly fell off and you had to rush to vet A&E. They’ll realise dogs’ ears don’t just fall of and you made up a bollocks excuse because you didn’t want to see them. Deeply awkward all round, but don’t think you’ll escape their clutches at Christmas, which will be a million times worse.