smokingboot

They were doing their bespoke tour of Spain; Bilbao, Zaragoza, Madrid, Toledo, Cordova, Granada, Malaga, home, and we were to catch up with them in Granada, where they had expressed a wish to maybe meet Mum. It was old style courtesy and exactly the right thing to do, but I dreaded it, because neither they nor Mum necessarily filter. Mum is less likely to offend than they are because she is less easily understood. None of them mean harm, they are just all very used to having their own way. Mum has a certain imperial vibe even before it's augmented by old-lady power, they have opinions unchallenged by their surroundings at home. I feared disaster.

Granada held more than one challenge for them. First of all, they were at the tail end of their tour and a little tired. More than that, they have been Conservative party members religiously reading the Telegraph for over 25 years; the favoured narrative being screamed at them is that nothing good can come out of North Africa or Islam; but the Alhambra remains a magnificent disabusal of that notion, and perhaps the revelation did not sit easy.

Twice they tried to engage with Spanish friends on the difficulties of immigration with questions like 'Do you still have many North Africans here? Do they have a lot of control in the city?' To which Granadine companions looked a bit confused, because no, there is no such issue here. The city has more of a problem with student graffiti, hardly reaffirming the endless UK headline that SHARIA LAW!!! is on its way implemented by IMMIGRANTS!!! who are all MEN OF FIGHTING AGE!!!!!

Having said that their manners were impeccable with Mother and the rest of the family. I was so proud of them for that, and likewise proud of Mum and our family; it was warm, welcoming and amicable, a heartfelt joy. Mum relaxed so much she was stuffing her face with fried anchovies and sausages, cakes and beer. She was happy, so I was happy.

And now I am back, and still happy.