I need at least another week's holiday to get over it. How I managed to stay reasonably calm and not give her a serious bollocking, I will never know. The woman is completely barking. A few examples:
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when we arrived at our holiday cottage she was flaked out on the sofa, fanning herself, in a foul mood because she "doesn't do travelling". It was Hampshire FFS, not Australia. It was 2 hours in the car!
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she is manically, obsessively tidy. I couldn't go for a pee without her plumping up my cushion or putting my half finished coffee in the dish washer.
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she didn't like my DDs to get a single speck of dirt on them the entire holiday and everything had to coordinate. She would whip off a t-shirt if she saw a crumb on it. Unfortunately this wound me up so much that it made me go to the opposite extreme and I took them to quite a smart restaurant in grubby purple shorts, long stripey yellow socks, and a green t-shirt with a bit of lunch on it, just to piss her off. It worked .
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she decided to go for a swim when we were at the beach one day, even though she can't actually swim. The result being that I had to swim out to rescue her in my shorts and t-shirt, whilst my DDs screamed hysterically at the waters edge, thinking nana was drowning. I had no other clothes with me, but MIL didn't want to go back to our cottage, she was too traumatised, so we had to sit on the beach for another 2 hours and talk about her near-miss and how she saw a white light .
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on the last morning I wandered into the kitchen, reached for the bread and she screamed "What are you doing". "Err, having some toast", I replied. So she screamed "Noooo you're not, I've cleaned the grill", and she slapped my hand .
God I could go on and on .... it's endless. I won't bore you any more, but it's been quite therapeutic writing this.