- Nothing says “generation gap” to me quite like ironing. I haven’t ironed anything for years – not since I worked in industry and had to dress like a grownup, and even then it was only occasionally. My philosophy is that if you pull things out of the dryer quickly enough, or hang them correctly during air drying, they don’t need to be ironed. My Mum, on the other hand, irons pretty much everything except underwear. Casual t-shirts, pajamas, pillow cases – she’ll iron ’em. I do have an ironing board and iron, but couldn’t find the latter when asked for it. I emptied all the cupboards and couldn’t find it anywhere. My parents were leaving for their Alaskan cruise the next day, and actually made me call a couple of friends to see if they could borrow an iron before they left. No-one had one, so… they went out and bought a new one. Then made a point of keeping it in their room while they’re here “in case anything happens to it”.
- My parents have more conversations with strangers in a couple of weeks in Vancouver than I manage in a year. They come back every day with stories of meeting a couple from Australia, a woman who works for the Canucks, a lovely old lady from Germany etc etc etc. I guess it’s due to spending most of their time in touristy places with other people who are more relaxed and ready to talk than your average Vancouverite.
- They also have a habit of bumping into people they know – they went on a snowshoeing excursion in Alaska and met the parents of a girl who used to play netball with my sister. Every trip, I swear.
- They found out about my tattoo. I was planning on bringing it up in the next couple of days, because we’re renting a place in Whistler with a hot tub next week, but a friend forced the issue at a party last night. He asked me – quietly, but right in front of my Dad – what my parents thought of my tattoo. I threw said “friend” a filthy look, and hoped that my Dad hadn’t heard. A little while later, my Mum commented (coincidentally. Or maybe not.) that there were a lot of people with tattoos in the room – “much more than in England” – and I decided to bite the bullet. I didn’t show it off until this morning, and the reaction was “Oh, that’s not too bad! It’s very big, though” (Mum) and “I suppose it could be worse” (Dad). Considering that they don’t like a) tattoos and b) me being Canadian, the reaction could also have been worse (and possibly will be, in private!)
- I have confirmed that my complete inability to dance is genetic – on both sides of the family
Mr E Man tries to show my Mum how it’s done. He can’t dance either, though.
We’re leaving tomorrow for a circuit of South-Western BC, encompassing visits with my sister-in-law, a golf / spa stay in Whistler, and a visit with my mother-in-law. I’ll be offline for the whole week… wish me luck!