I’d met two sets of potential in-laws before – Deirdre’s and Kevin’s – and it gave me a heat rash each time worrying about it. ’Tis all very well for the couple – they’ve plenty of time to suss each other out – but for the parents, we get thrown into it and are supposed to get on.

“I want ye to be great friends,” says Jennifer. But I’ve enough friends. And I don’t need to make them two at a time. In fairness, Deirdre’s ones were grand out. Johnny Pat and Nora are of the old stock. They wouldn’t be into all this socialising for the sake of it. They’re more the kind of people that would meet you at a thing, rather than organise a thing to meet you, if you know what I mean. They couldn’t even figure out why we had to have a meeting in the first place.

“Shur we’ll see ye in the church,” says Nora. “We know ye anyway.”

They’re farmers and ’twas a Sunday in June and that’s in the middle of the silage. There we were above in the golf club (Himself likes to go up there if one of his respectable jumpers are clean) and Nora arrived alone in the Vectra.

“Johnny’ll be on in a while,” she says, and shur enough Johnny arrives in with a load of silage and takes up about eight parking places. But the golf club was quiet that time. Nama had it so you could have driven in in a tank and they wouldn’t have given a hoot. And then Johnny – after gobbling down the beef as if he was getting the dinner in the home place – took a bit of a bun as dessert away in the pockets of his overalls and went off to finish a field before a shower. We felt very lazy looking at him. But at least Denis and him had a great chat about drive shafts.

There was no drive shaft talk when we were meeting Stephanie Rourke’s parents – Derek and Una. They would see themselves as quality and they made us go to La Bouche du Couchon – the expensive place. As far as I can remember it was mainly them asking us if we’d been to various places around the world and then me saying that we hadn’t but we’d heard it was nice. Kevin was rightly swallowed up by that family anyway. And I’ll never forget Derek going up to the toilet and paying the bill on the way back on the sly and giving us a little smile at the end as if we couldn’t afford a meal. He’s an auctioneer and, do you know something, I’d nearly wish for a good big recession to wipe the hoor out.

This crowd, though – Jennifer’s set – they were an unknown quantity. Phil and Desdemona coming down from Dublin. I was in a state around the house, because they’ve a bit of money according to Jennifer. I was going to go painting but I learned my lesson before with painting. Last-minute painting is always a bad idea. Denis painted the top of the range before a kind-of-a party one time and then when we lit it the place smelled like someone was Tarmacking the kitchen.

Only for poor Bernie Carroll (lord-have-mercy-n-her) arriving early and smoking like a chimney and hiding the smell, we’d have been in a right pickle.

For the first time ever, I got a cleaner in. And shur that was pointless. I cleaned the place before he arrived. Solomon was his name. From Zimbabwe originally. Deirdre booked it on the internet. She said you’d be better off with a stranger who wouldn’t know your business.

As it turned out, he didn’t even know his business because I had to go around after him again and do the floors. ’Twas as awkward, me standing there watching him asking him if he got home much and he was saying no that he had to flee Mugabe.

I didn’t know where to look after making an eejit of myself. He was a student doing design above in the tech. But at least he has a bit of initiative about him anyway. Unlike some of the lumps around here. Sitting on their backsides waiting for the Government to do something for them.

Between the two of us, anyway, we got the place ready for Phil and Desdemona, Declan’s parents. On the day, Denis arrived downstairs in an oul jumper. I think he was trying to get a rise out of me.

“You’re not wearing that!”

“I thought I would, just in case they were silage people.”

“Get up them stairs and put on one of your golf-club jumpers. You’re making the place look untidy after all the work me and Solomon put into it!”

To be continued ...