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' ('No,' I'd mutter under my breath, 'I'll be happy! Here I was, going through a major life crisis, and all my mother cared about was her kitchen and her garden and the horrors of my underwear. It was then that I had to make a choice: get out and get on with my own life, or stay and look after them.
') By the way, although my mother suffers from macular degeneration, she was not blind; she was visually impaired. In frustration, I picked up a small cushion and threw it at her. I decided to stay for no other reason than I wanted to make their last few years of life as good as possible.
The first woman I managed to get back to the house and sneak into my room woke me up in the middle of the night and asked: 'Why is there a naked old man lurking in your hallway, drinking a cocktail and wearing a fedora hat?
' The mother of my youth was a cool and easy-going beauty who took great care of her kids.
The news that a record number of adults have moved back into their parents' home has me worried.
Worst of all, every day I have to watch two people whom I love dearly become increasingly ravaged by old age and sickness.Inside, their house now looks like The Junk Shop That Time Forgot.There are great towering heaps of plastic bags, shelves of forgotten foods, heaps of broken electrical equipment.You may wonder how a successful adult ended up a desperate fifty-something living with his parents?In the latter part of 2006, when my marriage collapsed, the rowing with my ex-wife got so bad I had to move out for the sake of my four-year-old son and my sanity. I couldn't afford the growing solicitor's fees for divorce proceedings and the cost of renting somewhere half decent.
Some may even contemplate the joys of a second childhood, with Mum and Dad taking care of all their domestic needs.