None of them know me that well, because I'm not really all that comfortable with being myself around them, so it could be a giggle.
None of them have seen my hair.
My hopes:
Granddad and Grandma will continue their OAP flirtations and rekindle what was once the love that spawned five children.
Grandma will get drunk and say something racist.
My sister will react because she lacks tact.
There will be a fight.
My dad will be oblivious to it all.
My mum will get emotional in a, "Tomorrow you'll be 21. This makes me so old. DON'T GO TO UNIVERSITY. YOU'LL DO DRUGS AND GET PREGNANT," sort of way.
My aunty and uncle will remind me of the time I was born. There was a storm, you know.
I will enjoy my meal and come home injury free.
What will really happen:
Granddad and Grandma will get along alright, but with the constant undertone of the hatred created when one had an affair with his German secretary.
Grandma will get drunk and say something racist. She'll then refuse to accept money for her part of the meal, before forgetting she's even out for a meal and accepting the money.
My sister will react because she has no tact but Grandma won't hear it because she's old/drunk/forgetful.
There will be no fight, apart from the verbal one ensuing between my sister and, ultimately, herself.
My dad will be oblivious to it all but will be happy because he's talking to me about football. We're men.
My mum will get emotional in a, "Tomorrow you'll be 21. This makes me so old. DON'T GO TO UNIVERSITY. YOU'LL DO DRUGS AND GET PREGNANT," sort of way.
My aunty and uncle will order obscure food and ask me difficult to answer questions about my future. They'll then tell me about the time I was born. Have I mentioned there was a storm?
I will enjoy my meal and come home injury free, but still with my actual birthday to get through which will involve a lot more alcohol, tighter jeans and more opportunity for me to get in fights by approaching girls who obviously have boyfriends.
Free meal though, which is handy, because I'm a poor student with a dodgy hair cut who today had to spend a fortune on mount board because, contrary to what my Granddad thinks, I don't do journalism.