here they come

There's half a dozen Scots folk arriving in town today, to experience the New South Caledonian New Year celebrations. Fortunately the house is like a building site and I can't ask them to stay, so I should escape the worst of the alcoholic poisoning. But I'll need to spend some time with them. I'll try to arrange it for early in the day - as far as I remember, as a rule the never drink before breakfast.

These are dear people and I love them, but it's complicated. A long time ago when I was at a low ebb following the loss of my cats, my home and my partner, I landed on them in Perth, Australia, where they live in the suburbs. They are the classic working class Scots who escaped to build new lives in the colonies. Though they didn't know me from a bar of soap, I was Scottish and they took me in and looked after me for several months. I think they could tell I was a bit of a basket case. I felt touched yet embarrassed at their generosity. And they didn't ask anything in return! The most selfless thing that I did in return was to keep my hands off their 17-year-old daughter. In the daytime I was free to go for a jog, sometimes in 40 ° of heat, before grazing through their fridge and lying by their pool. In the evening when the adults came home, I was forced against my will to drink beer and watch videos.

The main couple were like a big brother and sister to me, or maybe a mum and dad. It was a regression for me. To be looked after, in some ways better than I ever was as a child. And in such a comfortable and permissive environment.

These folk are salt-of-the-earth types, which is lovely, but a slightly uneasy combination with a former minor aristocrat like myself. I've never felt comfortable with their non-stop proletarian digs (not just at me, but also at each other and the world in general). And maybe they're not 100% relaxed around me and my sensitive new man reserve.

Maybe another problem is that they're a large and happy clan, and I come from an insular and troubled nuclear family. I used to feel overwhelmed when I had to go for dinner with the Edinburgh jewish princess's extended family. Doctor Robert would probably diagnose it as a weakly differentiated ego or something, but what does he know?

When I left the Perth clan, and went to live in the UnHeard Of group of islands, I missed them, though it was also a relief to be away. How can I now show them I love them, without embarrassing any of us? Probably the most acceptable way to return their kindness is to pay their drinks bill when we meet, but to do that properly I'd need to sink a lot of beer myself. Either that, or stay on sodas and watch them from the outside as they get shit-faced, loud and obnoxious.

I'm hoping my bliss partner will come along, unlike me she's very good in company and can charm them while I pass around photos and keep the drinks coming. Maybe it won't be so bad after all. I'll just open a bottle of homemade Freedom Ale now, to limber up the liver.