Sunday 12 June 2011

The Anxiety Almanac

So there we were, en route to the West Midlands to visit the Shah’s parents.  We are going cross-country and quite enjoying the drive in a middle-aged sort of way.  That is if you can call the Shah bellowing at every other car on the road enjoyable.  His prize comment on this particular journey was “that’s the woman behind us in front.”  Don’t ask.   In order to take his mind off the inefficiencies of his fellow road users, I remarked (following the nth panicky phone call from his mother) that, if we could invent a pill to counter old-age anxiety, we’d be on to an absolute winner.  The Shah laughs a hollow laugh.  “Yes,” he opines “and we could call it the Geriatric Anxiety Healer or GAH! for short.”


At this point in my tale, I should issue a caveat – this is not a moan about the Shah’s parents – far from it.  Rather, it is an exposé of the vicissitudes of old age and it applies to everyone I know in their dealings with elderly relatives.


So me and the Shah fall to discussing (running a sweepstake on) the varieties of Anxiety (yes with a capital A) we will encounter when we get there.  Reader, I have to tell you that, whatever we imagined, the reality beat it into a cocked hat.


The Shah had already spoken to his parents, so they were expecting us.  It was his dad’s birthday and he had asked if I would make him a chicken curry as a birthday present (once again, don’t ask).   Mother-in-law (Mil) has never allowed a single piece of meat to pass her lips, so I think the poor old buffer was getting a bit desperate for some first class protein.  Consequently, the Shah and I spent most of the evening before cooking.  Chicken Curry (two types) Bombay Potato (a farm’s worth). The Shah also made a leaning tower of pizza – well not quite, but the Indian equivalent, a sort of spicy rotli.  We departed for Coventry well and truly laden with scran.  

So, even before we arrived there was anxiety about the food – would we bring it?  Would there be enough? Is there a famine in the West Midlands?  We also had  “Arrival Time Anxiety” which produced several stress phone calls demanding to know if we were dead on the motorway yet.  We were happy to assure them that we were not.  
 
On arrival, there was the Amount of Food Anxiety to deal with.  It transpired that neither father-in-law (Fil) nor Mil had actually believed that we would, or even could, fulfil their demands for curry, so they had made some themselves.  Oh goody!  Four people in the house and enough grub for 44.  Mil opens one of the plastic containers.  “What’s that?” she asks, pointing a finger at my delicious Coriander and Lemon chicken.  “Is it potato?”  “No,” I tell her.  “It’s chicken.”  Mil makes some rather too convincing vomiting noises.  Following a gargantuan feast (after which we are exhorted to eat a rich, creamy pudding flavoured with pistachio and cardamom in a true Mr Creosote moment to avert Starvation Anxiety), the Shah is despatched upstairs to sort out the satellite TV/computer link and I am led to the kitchen sink to do women’s work.  I start to rinse crockery and stack the dishwasher.  “Do you want to use the dishwasher or would you like to wash them yourself?” asks Mil kindly.  Although thrilled by her kind offer, I nobly decline.  This leads to a severe attack of Housework Anxiety  and Mil does not allow herself to be deflected so easily. TWICE MORE she asks me if I wouldn’t rather wash up by hand and twice more I demur.  Eventually, the Shah wanders in and I ask him for the Gujarati version of “Why buy a dog and bark yourself?” but apparently it wouldn’t translate well.  As fast as I am stacking the dishwasher, it is being re-stacked according to Mil’s strict rules and, of course, Dishwasher Anxiety.  The only problem is that neither she nor I have any idea what those rules are or what I have done wrong in the first place. 


A wafer-thin mint sahib?
Meanwhile the Shah, having failed to sort out his dad’s router, has been despatched to the garden to mow the lawn and do some weeding. Aha! Yes – now we have Titchmarsh Anxiety which means that Mil is frantic about the incipient ruination of her garden by a pair of weed-pulling wallies like us. The garden is not huge and is by no means weed-infested, but I still spend some pleasant time in the sunshine pulling up several miles of bindweed and the odd groundsel.  Mil follows us around yelling at the Shah to make sure to put the weeds in the bin.  Eventually the Shah tires of this nonsense and snaps back that he will be lobbing them over next door’s fence if she doesn't shut up.  


Finally, we are allowed to leave.  Mind you, not before we have Leftovers Anxiety to deal with.  Due to Mil’s prodigious cooking, there is a ton of food left.  We try to leave most of the chicken with them for Fil to have when he fancies.  We agree to take a little bit of it home for a quiet life and decant it back into one of our own Tupperware containers where it covers the bottom 2 inches.  This, for some reason, incenses Mil and she lectures the Shah in rapid-fire Gujarati about the necessity of filling it up (what with, FFS?)  The Shah responds in kind and Fil stands by laughing.  


The Shah mutters under his breath.  I think I hear the words “pain” and “arse” being mentioned....
  

15 comments:

  1. Very funny......and I hope it's not true that we all turn into our parents..........

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  2. Hi Libby - Funnily enough, I had to go to the funeral of a very elderly uncle recently and all my cousins and I remarked that we are, indeed, turning into our parents - in looks at least!

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  3. Aaah parents - they bring such joy! LMAO
    I'm currently undergoing I'm not really sure what's happing so I'll just make it up as I go along Anxiety with my Mother. You can tell her till you're blue in the face what is happening but it seems to enter one ear and get scrambled and regurgitated with a totally different spin once she talks out loud. Hence why I don't tell her things in the first place. You'd the reason was she was starting to lose her marbles but she's always been like this :/

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  4. Hi Taz - you see what I mean? Everyone goes through it with their parents! And when my kids roll their eyes at my mum and her "little ways" I remind them that I'll be like it soon...

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  5. I have already turned into my mother, it was easier just to give in gracefully rather than waste a decade protesting. I now enjoy being a batty old bag :)

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  6. The Husband's dearest wish is that I don't turn into my mother. 74 and still cracking the whip!

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  7. My Olds (should I start calling them Old-ers now?) have a fun twist on Dishwasher Anxiety. Theey wash everything before it goes in.

    I swear I can't tell the difference between 'before' and 'after'.

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  8. AG & WG - my kids dread me turning into my mother. come to think of it, I dread it too!

    Andy - my mother regards a dishwasher as being much like a mobile phone - ie a work of the devil and liable to bankrupt you with every usage. *sigh*

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  9. My mother gets Faraway Daughter Anxiety where she badgers me about living so far away that we cannot do lunch like other mothers and daughters, I cannot be on hand to clean up after my dotty dad (who has now, thankfully been removed to a secure unit...), pop round whenever she needs me, etc etc.

    I know it sounds horrible, but I'm cool with being faraway... :)

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  10. Hi Sarah - I know what you mean! I live about an hour away from my mum which is the worst of all worlds - I'd rather she was either down the road or on a different continent - it would make life easier all round (much as I love her!) :)

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  11. Sarah we should get your Mother and mine together and they could get themselves into a right frenzy of faraway Daughter's. I live 400 miles away from mine and if I'm honest I wouldn't mind if I was a bit further away.

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  12. Hilarious. My parents live 12 hours away by plane and have got more energy than me, but are incredibly tidy and run such a tight ship. Cleaning up must take place Immediately after eating anything. Over the years I have learned to just have one more glass of wine...I'm sure they all talk about how lazy I am...Actually I know they do because they say it to my face.

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  13. Taz, you crack me up. I hope your mum doesn't read blogs!

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  14. Jody - yes but you are chilled and happy with your glass of wine and they are constantly stressing about how clean their house is. Give me a life of grime and a vat of vino any day!

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  15. Read blogs? She cancelled t'internet when my Dad died as it was a waste of money. But then everytime she invades my house she brings her laptop and hooks up to my wifi so she can google her family and send emails. LMAO

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Oh go on - say something for God's sake...