Becoming a grandmother is one thing. It is a landmark in a life time, a point of no return. But somehow it has a pleasant public image and it triggers the motherly string again hugging babies and all that.
Becoming a mother-in-law is like having a car accident. You thought it could only happen to others. The public image is appaling. Whatever you do or say is taken down as evidence against you! You've not been warned. You're not prepared.
I was not prepared for what happened when my son, his girlfriend and baby grand-daughter came to live with me in the one room house attached to the pottery studio.
It lasted four months. In October 2002 they moved out to their own premises in a nearby provincial town.
Here's me as mother-in-law half asleep in an armchair.