The Cousins

I haven't seen them for years and there was a good reason.

They were on holiday up the road for a week so dropped by to have lunch and catch up, since the last time we'd seen each other was Grandad's funeral ten years ago. We filled the initial silences with questions about their obscure north - midland's town and how they'd been 'getting on'. And how was Auntie ... ? Where IS the north midlands?? Its not on my mental map. Its like that terra incognita I keep banging on about, but instead of a dragon ready to pull down the venturing ships, or a cherubic face blowing the Westerly's across the ocean, it is a (Lacoste) crocodile (logo) or a Kawasaki ZX-10 exhaust sputtering fumes, cartoon style.

My family is spread wide across England's green and pleasant land. You find us in a range of places. Some would be at gymkhanas in June, riding Bobbet to 3rd prize and a rosette. Other's would be in golf club committee meetings, mulling over the latest outrages by the newly admitted ladies to the saloon bar. Some wear wigs and gowns, and have memberships at the golf courses, but only for the once or twice they can be bothered to play. More would be found marketing, advertising, designing, drinking, dining and getting on, getting... somewhere. Never sure if its 'on' in all its furore, all the thrashing probably means we're standing still. But its in London and all that matters, because to be anywhere else is to be on the periphery, to be a side show. A yokel.

And these particular visiting cousins are found in out of town shopping centres at the weekend, working in factory outlet stores by A46s from 7 every morning, village pubs (now that they do classy red onion and goat's cheese tarts), and now... here. In our living room.

I'd been to see my 93 year old granny earlier that day. She's in a home and hard of hearing now, she's not at all 'with it'. And later, in the living room, the glazed looks were the same as hers as I vivaciously chatted and quipped about my planned summer of trips and diversions, learning through fun and experience, travel and adventure. Anything not to fall into an awkward silence.

And, to my horror, I realise that its not because these hicks, these uneducated slick-backs are stupid that they glaze over, its because I AM BORING them. To tears. Probably like my grandmother, stuck in her room with only me shouting at her to count as company. (She probably wished I'd sod off and let her get on with watching the tennis...)

It's not, maybe, that I am that boring. I hope. Its just that we totally outside each other's frames of reference. When I laughed with my mum after they left about their only available adjectives for what they felt, as things being "nice" - whether it be a sandwich or their daughter's engagement - we marvelled at their lack of self perception. How could you live like that?? But they were looking straight back at me thinking... when will this twat get a proper job and stop fucking around doing cut and paste at poncey university. He's 29, he's at university, and he's not even got a girlfriend. He's probably gay, stupid and lazy. Ha ha...