My parents.
I am only allowed one small glass of wine. I once asked for a second glass and my dad angrily refused. I'm 47.
The kitchen is "closed" after 8 pm. Strictly no entry after that time. I like a cup of tea before bed but that was banned.
The kitchen (before 8 pm curfew) is the only place in the (large) house where food or drink may be consumed. No cup of coffee in the living room - oh no...
My fathers dictates The Ground Rules when we arrive at mum and dad's house. One of them is "hats must not be left on any item of furniture".
There are two upstairs bathrooms and one downstairs. Only wees may be done in the downstairs loo, never poo.
No one is allowed to "slob" on soft furnishings. When sitting on the sofa, feet must be kept on the floor at all times and one's back must not touch the back of the sofa.
Their house is immaculate. They do a deep clean every day. The presence of a crumb means the Hoover is employed to thoroughly obliterate the offending item.
Lights must never, ever be left on or my dad explodes. As you may gather, he has a bad temper.
The television is strictly rationed and only my parents get to choose what to watch - endless cookery programmes. They are both getting deaf, so the tv is at top volume.
Talking of cooking, every meal preparation is a two hour hell of arguments between my parents.
When we finally eat, we (me, duh and teen ds) are told off for not getting our food fast enough or eating too slowly.
If we are offered, say, bottled sauce, we must take only the tiniest amount to "save costs".
Each day, between cleaning, arguing and meal times is packed with hearty walks and activities. No one is allowed to relax and read a book.
Talk about treading on eggshells. It's awful. I love my parents, but they are neurotic, foul tempered and insane.
I return home exhausted and desperate for alcohol.
I dread visiting them.