‘What shall I wear?’ Hot Danish asked. We were getting ready to visit my family on the Easter Monday. I had prepared him: he might be offered a spliff before a cup of tea by my mum; my nine-year-old nephew would talk at him non-stop; and the sister-in-law whinges a lot.

When we arrived at the restaurant, mum looked a little tipsy. My nine-year-old nephew told HD that my ex was fat. My sister-in-law struggled to choose what to order; she’d given up on the cabbage soup diet but seemed to be avoiding food altogether. Lunch, a few glasses of wine and an Irish coffee later, mum invited us back to hers. The hash/grass/whatever was brought out and mum asked HD to roll it. She brought up the following: kids (‘maybe you’ll have twins’); my exes (the rock ‘n’ roll first boyf she still holds a torch for in particular, but at least this was because she was impressed by HD’s joint rolling); my inheritance (definitely not something which would entice HD to propose); her low period. Actually, she said she wouldn’t talk about the dark patch following her drug addiction. As HD and I were leaving, mum pressed a ‘Words of Peace Global’ card into HD’s hand and suggested he check out the website (www.wopg.org).

Fortunately HD hadn’t smoked as mum never passed the joint back to him but he still felt a little queasy on the train journey home, ‘I had to try to keep up with your mum’s drinking.’
‘That’s never a good idea. Was she how you expected?’
‘To be honest, I thought she’d be worse,’ he replied. I wasn’t sure how she could have behaved worse but I was pleased I’d sufficiently prepared him. (My friend Kate once forgot to prepare a friend who, on meeting my mum, asked her what she did [for a living]. Mum let the girl know that she was a full-time lunatic.)

Mum called the next day to say that HD is a very nice man and that she had a little lie down after we left. I didn’t mention that HD also had a nap when we got home.