**An Unexpected Visit: Adventures at the In-Laws’**
I recently stayed at my boyfriend’s parents’ house, and let me tell you, it was an experience! Picture this: his mother suddenly jumps up from her chair and says, “Hang on, love, let me get you a clean plate for your bones!” before reaching for the shelf. Then she adds, “Put them here, keep eating, don’t get distracted—only two hours left, mind you!” I was utterly baffled, and here’s why.
**First Impressions: A Warm Welcome**
My boyfriend—let’s call him James—invited me to visit his parents in a quiet little village. His mum, we’ll say Margaret, and dad, let’s call him Thomas, live in a modest but cosy cottage with a small garden. I was a bit on edge, given it was our first proper meeting, but they were lovely at first. Margaret served tea with homemade jam, while Thomas shared hilarious stories from his younger days. I started to relax, thinking everything would be fine. Oh, how wrong I was.
**Dinner with Peculiar Surprises**
When it was time for dinner, Margaret called us to the table. I expected something ordinary—maybe roast potatoes or a simple stew. Instead, there was a massive bowl of boiled meat, a few slices of bread, and one tiny plate. I assumed it was for salad, but no. Margaret placed it in front of James and said, “Put your bones here, love, eat neatly!” Then she passed the plate to Thomas—and then to me. We were all meant to pile our bones onto the same plate!
I froze. At home, everyone has their own plate, and bones go straight into the bin. James, noticing my confusion, muttered, “It’s just how we do things here, don’t overthink it.” But how could I not? Margaret, spotting my discomfort, chirped, “Saves on washing up!” I forced a smile, but inside, I was horrified. Sharing a bone plate? That was beyond me.
**Kitchen Chaos: A Question of Cleanliness**
After dinner, I offered to help with the washing up, secretly hoping they had a dishwasher. Margaret waved me off. “Guests don’t lift a finger, dear!” Then I watched as she “washed” the dishes—just a quick rinse under cold water, no soap, before stacking them away. The forks and spoons got the same treatment. I was gobsmacked. At home, we scrub everything properly with hot water and detergent.
Even worse, a heap of rubbish sat in the corner of the kitchen—bones, vegetable peelings, wrappers. Thomas caught me staring and said, “We tidy once a week—no point wasting time doing it daily.” Margaret added they take the bins out “when they’re full.” Back home, we empty them every single day, and the kitchen sparkles. I tried not to judge, but it was hard.
**A Morning of Revelations: Life Without Gadgets**
The next morning, I hoped breakfast would be simpler. But Margaret pulled last night’s meat from the fridge, insisting we “finish it before it goes off.” I stuck to tea and toast to avoid further shocks. Then I realised the house barely had any appliances—no dishwasher, no hoover, not even a microwave. Margaret proudly declared, “We keep things simple—no unnecessary gadgets.” To me, it felt *too* simple. Even the bathroom had just one shared flannel, which was the final straw.
James tried to explain that these were just their ways, but I couldn’t adjust. Every meal left me braced for another oddity. When Margaret said, “Eat up, don’t dawdle—two hours left!” I had no clue what she meant. Turns out, she was counting down to some telly show they all watch together. By then, all I could think about was going home.
**Escape in Walks: A Brief Respite**
My only solace was strolling through the village. I wandered the park, popped into cafés for a proper meal on my own plate. James joined me sometimes but mostly stayed behind to help his parents. He admitted he understood my shock but wouldn’t ask them to change. I decided one night was plenty.
**Home at Last: Lessons Learned**
The moment I got back, I hugged my dishwasher and ate from my own spotless plate with sheer relief. That visit taught me to appreciate my own family’s routines. James and I are still together, but I’ve made it clear: in our future home, it’s separate plates, daily bin runs, and no shared bone dishes!
This whole ordeal showed me how differently people live. I don’t fault Margaret and Thomas—their house, their rules. But it taught me one thing: never take a clean, orderly home for granted again.
