Unexpected arrival of Son of Mr Him.

Dear reader, so taken am I with step-step sons and variations thereof that I yesterday accidentally acquired another one!   Yes, I have them descending on me by the bucket load now, it appears. My youngest and I had no sooner departed home to pursue a prom dress yesterday when the Son of Mr Him materialised.  Youngest and I missed his arrival, and so as it turned out did Mr Him. In fact he knew not of his son's Grand Adventure until he received a text along the lines of 'dad, where are you?'  Mr Him tells me that he abandoned his bathroom cleaning in an enthusiastic manner and scurried for the station.  Youngest and I knew nothing of this father son liaison until we arrived home and as she said, '.......found another step-brother in the house.'

Mr Him journeys southern England by rail to see his son regularly but they meet in the son's native habitat of Croydon.  This weekend we had invited  'Son of Mr Him' to visit us for a bbq, but it was to be Sunday, our day of relaxation and entertainment.  We were to be just the 3 of us to break him in gently to our household.  Well, you understand, being my reader, the household is exotic, especially when Mr Him is in it, and it could be off-putting.

So Saturday dawned and Mr Him scoured the supermarket aisles for bbq delicacies followed by the squirting of various surfaces with  Mr Muscle in readiness for his son's arrival the next day.  Do not misunderstand, dear reader, this is not a male marking ritual of Mr Him's family but a form of cleaning, or so he tells me.  Whilst I left Mr Him to his marking cleaning, youngest navigated me to the cute mini-town of Hassocks to purchase a dress for her prom.  The selection was relatively easy. She fell in love with a gown in  dolls-dress pink.  My credit card balked at the cost, twice.  I had to resort to debit card.

So with dress and depleted bank account we arrived home and there was Mr Him,  beaming in the kitchen.  His beam was so frightening that I immediately asked what was wrong.  'Look, who's here?' he exclaimed, and there he was, The Son of Mr Him, a day early!

All panic commenced.  Mr Him started cooking potatoes for a potato salad, youngest tried on her prom dress as a distraction, the yogurt churner extraordinaire played frantically on his x-box, the dogs barked, the hens laid and I swept the hall (for fear his mum would descend on us). The Son of Mr Him offered to help amongst the chaos and his guilt. We chorused, 'no, no, you just relax.'

The Weber was fired up, steaks were browned, chicken breasts and sausages cooked to germ killing perfection, cider was poured, beer was appreciated and youngest daughter went horse riding.

Four of us sat in glorious sunshine enjoying al fresco gastronomy, Mr Him, his son, the yogurt churner extraordinaire step-step son and myself.  The two lads coincidentally were the same school age so they could converse on subjects such as  x-boxes, last year's prom, dangers of spiked drinks at said proms and the over protectiveness of mothers; the latter being the topic they had the most to talk on.

Later my oldest, the young on line shopping genius and her boyfriend the automotive engineer arrived to see the phenomenon that was Son of Mr Him in our garden.  Coleslaw, potato salad and sausage left-overs were consumed by the young on line shopping genius as she hid in uncertainty behind the Weber.

Several hours later Son of Mr Him departed.  At this point we are not sure whether we will see him in our native habitat again.  We may well have scared him away.  Still he chose the day to visit and force a bbq upon us well, for today there's a cold wind and cloudy sky.