The Parental Visitation

There aren’t many examples of it, but as I sit here on Easter Sunday in the midst (tragically) of the third act of the bank holiday weekend, it is somewhat different than normal.

Yesterday my parents arrived for a two day visit. They decided, somewhat impromptu, to visit me since they were both on holiday from work and all my other siblings had deserted them. I had a feeling it might happen, as we had briefly talked about it when I was last home, but here it is. Now happening.

It’s nearly two years since they were here last. It’s always good when they visit, because they get to see what a bachelor (haha) life I am leading. The house is in bad need of some attention. So we usually do a tip run, and maybe increase the furnishings of the house just modestly. But they are highly critical of everything here, including such sparsity as there being no lightbulb in the room they are sleeping in (I never use the room, so I forgot! It happens!)

It’s all quite interesting, to be honest. I know there are lots of things that I need to sort out. I just never get the time. I feel like I should make the house nicer to live in, but it’s generally not something I’m good at. I look at the bare walls and think “hmm. What would I put there?” People say photos, art prints, other personal things. I just look at them and think. Hmm. What would I put there? It’s beyond not knowing. It’s actually not caring. I do not care one bit. I don’t know how to. Other people have imagination, and enjoy putting their personal touch. I. Simply. Do. Not. Care.

But what I do care about is what other people think when they visit. So when my parents tell me the environment is somewhat “inhospitable” I start to think maybe I should at least make it have a little more friendliness to my guests, however infrequent they are. I worry about that. I am, in all aspects of my life, somewhat worried about people may “think” of me. Even though I know that that is not a sensible way to live over the long term.

Parking that issue to one side though, it is still nice that my parents are here. We’ve had a nice leisurely breakfast, and we’re going out for something to eat in an hour or so. A nice stroll into town will do us wonders, even though I know my mum and dad don’t really do walking any more (welcome to my non-driving world). We get on pretty well with our jokes, but I generally don’t enjoy watching crap on the TV, which they are both inanely doing now whilst I sit solitarily in my bedroom writing up the latest nonsense that has arrived in my brain.

The most exciting part of my life though, that I’m now on the third day off out of four, is still wonderful. The sanctuary will end tomorrow, when the fourth arrives and I will feel like work is imminently returning. But it just reminds me how much I love Easter. Not because of its religious aspect, but because of its wonderful back-to-back bank holidays. I feel all the more rested for it.

Here’s to holidays. I need more of them.

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