What do you do when your parents come to visit?

I sweep behind the wheelie bins.  I tidy up.  I buy bottled water and nice wine, even though I rarely drink.

I stick the comfie chair under the apple tree so that my father can have a nap.

I hoover and wash my car because this won’t do:

I get the filter coffee machine out that my mother prefers, even though I have a perfectly good espresso machine and a jar of instant coffee.

I buy cream for their coffee and tea because that’s how they drink it in Germany.  I buy salami and Schwarzbrot.

I roll my eyes and tut, but I do it anyway.

Psychoanalysts will have a field day with my need for parental approval, I say that they have worked hard all their lives, have looked after me and made sacrifices, why would I not make their stay as comfortable as possible?  Oh, and they’re getting on a bit.

I draw the line at turning the heating on in May.  Bring a jumper – you are descended from the Vikings and the Poles after all!

Yes, my father reads this blog. Tell Mami to bring bedsocks.

Ina x