Thought you’d had house guests HELL? from
Then read the stories of the one who was sick in a dog basket, another who left early in a huff and a third who climbed naked into bed with her hosts
LAST week, in Femail magazine, Claudia Connell listed 25 reasons why she loathes staying overnight in anyone’s home. ‘It struck a chord with readers, who commented online or emailed me to say that, secretly, they hate it, too,’ she says. ‘But having people to stay with you is no picnic, either. I once hosted a girl from New Zealand who brought a strange man home from the pub for sex.’ Here, a selection of Mail writers reveal their worst-ever house guests.
SHE SNEAKED INTO OUR BED
Jane alexander, 61, is an author and lifestyle journalist who lives in exeter. I’ve had many iffy house guests over the years, and the common denominator is always an excess of alcohol. I serve too much; they drink too much; it all gets messy.
However, the one that really scorched my memory was in the early 2000s. My husband Adrian and I had sold our Georgian rectory on the Somerset Levels (house guest catnip) and embraced our inner Wuthering Heights, buying a house in the middle of exmoor for us, our newborn baby and a psychotic terrier.
Suddenly our diary was bare. Nobody wanted to visit, and, to be honest, who could blame them? So when a journalist (let’s call her Kate) asked if she could stay after interviewing me about my new book, I said she’d be very welcome.
It all started off so well. Adrian cooked paella and I poured G&Ts. We chatted about films, books and living in the country. Kate sank her gin pretty swiftly, so I poured her another — and another.
Adrian and I stopped drinking (hangovers and babies don’t mix), but as Kate polished off her second bottle of wine, she started telling us, in explicit detail, about her disastrous love life. The oversharing reached a crescendo when she grabbed our hands and sobbed: ‘I haven’t had sex for over two years! I’m absolutely gasping for it.’
‘er, I think the dog needs to go out,’ said Adrian. When he returned, Kate was sprawled over the sofa, snuffling, snoring and dribbling.
We manhandled her into the recovery position, popped a blanket over her and went to bed.
But halfway through the night, I