Regular breaks may just be the secret to a happy marriage
When we were kids, this boring old American priest, who was a far-out relation of the mother's, used to come on visits. The oul fella said the priest stayed so long he was entitled to claim a squatter's title.
My poor mother spent all day cooking a feast for him and the priest must have been in a silent order in America because he never shut up from the minute he came into the house. The worst part was when he went into double digits when it came to eating all the chocolate fingers, which were a great treat back then.
The priest with the sweet tooth was very loud. Our friend May, who gave my mother a hand around the house, said the Americans had to talk very loud because the traffic was so bad in New York and if they didn't shout, well then no one would hear them. The father used to duck off by saying he had an interview with the BBC and the rest of us would be stuck entertaining him for hours.