Last weekend I attended a family party. The occasion was the golden wedding anniversary of my aunt and uncle and the less prestigious wedding anniversary of their daughter; my cousin. We drove to the small village in Somerset just outside Taunton where they live. It was a lovely summer's evening as we took our place at the table in village hall with other members of my family.
Many of the older males on the paternal side of my family have a similar look and physiology. We are all short and of stocky build sporting beer bellies. We are generally good humoured and laugh a lot. A stranger might think they have stumbled onto a garden gnome convention. I have never attended a 'do' with my family and witnessed a stand up slanging match or a fight. However, like all families, ours is no stranger to intrigue and in-fighting.
Those people who say 'my family is my rock' or 'the most precious thing is family' clearly don't have one. Most families seem to be bubbling cauldrons of jealousy and resentment flavoured with squabbling siblings, backstabbing in- laws and with a generous dash of parental disappointment. Families are not governed by the same social graces that stop you verbally abusing your work mates to their face. It seems you can criticize close relations as much as you like with impunity, regardless of how hurtful it might be to them. Familiarity breeds contempt so they say, perhaps that should be family.
Looking at my dad and his brother chatting away in the corner, it struck me that it would soon be me and my brother sitting there in the autumn of our lives with our sons looking on and thinking 'look at that those two old gits'. If we manage to live that long and we are still talking to each other, it would be a good thing.
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