WHEN TO BE OR NOT TO BE AT HOME

One of the major issues guaranteed to make most parents worry is the time at which their darling little fledglings should come home to the nest after an evening out. However well-behaved you may be, your parents will imagine, at some time or other, that you are up to indescribable depravity when out of their sight.

Don't go thinking this is something new. I bet even Joseph and Mary used to wait up of an evening, wondering what time that young scallywag Jesus would get back after an evening out with his mates — and we all know what a goody-goody he turned out to be!

Whether it be a disco, a rave, an action-seeking stroll down the high street, or a meeting of the local junior Morris Dancers (heaven forbid), you may still get that old Nazi-type interrogation both before you make your exit and also when you get home. The argument often goes something like this. As girls usually get a harder time than boys I'll use one as my example.

Teenager: What time do I have to be in, Dad? (Girls always ask their fathers first since they're generally easier. The reverse is true for boys.)

Father: Not too late, darling. You'd better ask your mot­her. (A typical buck-passing trick.)

Teenager: Mum, is it all right if I stay out till twelve?

That's the time all my friends have been told, and Dad didn't seem to mind. (Two white lies —

that everyone else has easy-going parents and

that the other parent has already said yes.)

Mother: No. I'd like you back by 11.00. It's quite late enough. (Late enough for what'? you ask your­self.)

Teenager: Oh Mum! that's pathetic. I'll seem a right twit having to leave before everyone else. Pleeease! Do I have to leave at eleven? (Clever, but slightly obvious ploy to gain extra "coming home" time.)

Mother: You're not leaving at eleven. That's when you'll be back here. (Neatly cut off at the pass.)

Teenager: But Mum, there'll be no time for anything if I leave so early. (Bad mistake. It leaves you wide open.)

Mother: So what do you want to do that involves being there another hour?

Teenager: How do I know? — It's a party.

Mother: What sort of a party?

Teenager: Oh! You know — pass jelly and ice cream, a conjuror, balloons outside the front door... (Sar­casm seldom works. Be careful.)

Mother: There's no need for that, my girl. (Notice "my girl". Unfortunately, as the old saying goes — possession is nine-tenths of the law.)

Teenager: Oh Mum! Please let me stay till twelve.

Mother: No! And that's my final word on the subject.

Daughter: But why?

Mother: (and here comes the most predictable cop-out reply of the lot): Because I say so.