It’s hell staying in friends’ houses... especially mine!

DING DING! Daughter-in-law whinge alert! Oh well, this time of year – bound to happen. A Mumsnetter opened a thread on Boxing Day called ‘minor inconveniences of staying in other people’s houses’. ‘I’m at in-laws for Christmas,’ it started, ‘and have had a lovely time (OK no gravy with dinner or roasties) however certain things about this house drive me nuts!’

And who can blame the poor lamb? After all, we’ve all been in enforced confinement with loved ones over the festive period, many of us not in our own homes.

Something had to give after several days of staying in strange childhood bedrooms with scratchy sheets (or, in my case, sleeping next to a clock tower I heard strike one, two, three, four, five… then six).

Many of us, of course, would have rioted at the mere thought of Christmas dinner minus gravy, but the three things that broke the Mumsnet Moaner were: No bathroom bin. No hairdryer. And water that was ‘either scalding or freezing’. Her post ended: ‘So any other visiting house things drive you quietly mad?’

Goodness, how long have we got? Many dozens of pages later, I can reveal that this country’s chief complaints regarding accommodation concern bedside lights, heating, water pressure, and locks on bathroom doors (lack of). Clutter. Draughts.

I felt myself crimsoning with embarrassment as I read this stream of reverse gush on the part of our guest class.

It is confirmation that having people to stay is an exquisite exercise in passive aggression. They are under your roof, so your house rules apply: they are prey for the stay. It makes me realise to my shame that I must do better – not just as a guest (I should have pretended cheerily at breakfast after my wakeful night near the clock tower that I’d slept like a top) but primarily as a host. We have a modest dwelling on my father’s hill farm on Exmoor. It is currently undergoing improvements, but even so, when people come I warn them in advance ‘it’s one up from camping’ in the hope they will be pleasantly surprised that they are sleeping between sheets under a roof at all. There is only one bathroom. One barrister who came to stay a few years ago was so traumatised by his lack of en suite that he left after 36 hours, claiming he was ‘blocked’, simply in order to visit his own powder room in peace.

As I write, I have another family staying, who know the drill, and my friend Fiona is in the kitchen spud-bashing.

Please note, when guests hover saying ‘What can I do’ – code for ‘Can I have a drink now?’ – or ‘Is lunch soonish?’, never fail to give them your least favourite chore.

AFEW years ago their boy Leo was crammed into my oldest son’s room on an old camp bed, last used during the Second World War. ‘It creaked loudly every time I moved so I couldn’t sleep,’ Leo reminded me on Friday, as we were reading out the best bits of the ‘minor inconveniences’ webthread to each other. ‘There was a terrible storm and the roof was leaking and dripping on me. I got up to go to the loo and when I flushed, the entire toilet window fell out and crashed to the ground.’

The fact that Leo’s family still come to stay is a tribute to their astonishing forbearance and our lasting friendship.

For whenever we go to stay with others – and their houses are invariably more fluffy-cosy and carpeted than ours – I like to tell them as we leave: ‘Our special thank you to you is to let you off ever having to come to stay with us in return.’

I can’t tell you how grateful they are, because let’s all admit it – hell isn’t other people, it’s other people’s houses.

Happy New Year, home or away!