My middle-class in-laws made me ashamed of my working-class parents. I bitterly regret how I reacted: CLARE O’REILLY

The first clue that my then-boyfriend Jon’s parents were wealthier than mine came when it took us more than 45 seconds to pull into their driveway in an affluent part of Devon.

This was a very different proposition to going to my parents’ three-bedroom house in Birmingham; The only parking option here was the double yellow lanes outside.

And it wasn’t just the house. Jon’s mother Margaret, an artist with a shortened RP accent, was incredibly intelligent and well-read, the kind of person who knew the Latin name of every plant or flower. People often said that when they went to Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, it would be their first choice to ‘phone a friend’.

His father, Gordon, was an engineering executive whose well-paying job allowed him to fly around the world; He took Jon and his sister on vacations as children to Switzerland, Florida, Norway and beyond.

In comparison, my mother Irene worked as a cleaner while my father Mick was not working due to his severe epilepsy. Their house would fit into the downstairs of Jon’s parents’ house.

When the summer holidays came, they would pile my brother and I into our old Vauxhall Chevette with a Thermos and fried chicken sandwiches and drive off to holiday spots like Barry, Scarborough, Rhyl and Prestatyn.

And when I met the people I hoped would one day be my in-laws, I felt the differences acutely and suddenly cringed at the thought of Jon’s upper-middle-class parents and my working-class mother and father being in the same room.

This embarrassment sparked what would become my secret mission for the next 18 years of mine and Jon’s marriage: to keep his parents and mine as separate as possible, whether at our wedding or our family Christmases. Even after our three children, Eddie, Sammy, and Annie, were born, I held off hosting both sides of the family together in our home for as long as possible.

Irene was born in Madeira and left school at the age of 11. After moving to England in his 20s, he worked a series of blue-collar jobs and retired in his 50s.

It may sound rude and rude, but in my eyes the two were very different and I didn’t want the extent of those differences to be revealed by putting them in the same room.

But I have since realized how wrong I was to do this, and it is something I bitterly regret.

That’s why I’m following Holly Ramsay and Adam Peaty’s wedding story with great interest. Because I see echoes of my own situation in the flamboyant, multimillionaire Ramsay clan and the more humble Peatys.

My mother was born in Madeira and left school at the age of 11. She worked a series of blue-collar jobs after moving to England in her 20s, then retired in her 50s to care for my father after he developed epilepsy from a childhood surgery and was forced to give up work.

My father had an accident when he was 14, which resulted in him having brain surgery and missing school for a year. After struggling to catch up, he spent time at art school before working as a doorman at a hotel in Jersey, where he met his mother, who worked as a chambermaid. After their marriage they moved to Birmingham.

Their experiences made them determined that my brother and I would have a better life; My mother always said how heartbroken she was to leave school at such a young age. He would review our homework every night after school, learn as we did, and help us as much as he could. When I was 18, after taking my A Levels, I told him I wanted to go traveling for a year and he told me in no uncertain terms that I would go straight to university to make the most of the options he never had.

I worked three jobs while studying English at the University of Edinburgh and was always aware that my background was different from that of my fellow students; It quickly became clear that eggs and chips were not a staple in everyone’s diet growing up.

But my family’s belief in me meant that I was never ashamed of my past. Rather, I wore it as a badge of pride as I developed my career as a journalist.

Clare with her mother-in-law Margaret. When Margaret spent time with Clare’s parents, Clare realized they had more in common than she had previously thought.

Accusations of snobbery against the Ramsays are at the center of their feud with the family of their future son-in-law, Adam Peaty. Gordon and his wife Tana are pictured with their daughter Holly and fiancé Adam

Until she met Jon, who was also a journalist. When I cared deeply about what he, and later his family, thought of me, this suddenly felt like the first area of ​​significant consequence. I felt more alone in my classroom than I had ever felt before; I was on eggshells in case I made the ‘wrong’ move.

When Jon’s parents invited mine downstairs, I’d tell my mother it was a very long drive, or mention the fact that my father might have an epileptic seizure and fall on the tile floor in the kitchen, injuring himself.

There was always a way to make sure they didn’t spend time together; Spending time living in New York for work also helped. When it comes to kids’ birthdays, I have my parents come one weekend and Jon’s parents travel the following week.

No one knew the real reason, not even Jon, but I think my mother was also worried about what might happen when they got together with their mother-in-law. Although Jon’s parents were never judgmental, he was always embarrassed by his accent; No matter how many times I reminded him that he was fluent in two languages, he was as aware of his upbringing as I was.

Although I feel ashamed now that I may have fed her fears with my actions, at the time I didn’t feel guilty about trying to keep my parents and in-laws apart. I somehow deceived myself because I was doing everyone a favor. And since no one misses seeing the kids, I mistakenly told myself it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But ten years into our marriage, something changed.

I began to realize that although my working-class family was poorer in some ways, it was incredibly rich in others.

Yes, my family didn’t have matching chairs or even cutlery around the dinner table. But they made up for it with their compassion and kindness. While visitors to Jon’s family were sometimes greeted with what felt like superficial pleasantries, my parents were always warm and caring, with no bullshit. My mom doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor so guests can climb into her bed.

As the years passed and Jon’s mother Margaret became a widow, it became difficult to divide time equally between both sides of the family.

Although this increased my stress level the first few times, my parents started seeing Jon’s mother more often.

And the more time they spent together, the more I realized I did They have things in common. My father may not have pursued a career as an artist like Margaret, but they loved to argue about their favorite works of art.

The three discovered a shared love of birdwatching, and who cared if one was watching from the window of a larger house than the others? And Margaret, who is an amazing baker, asked for my mother’s recipe for Portuguese orange cake.

When Margaret passed away in 2020, we all missed her so much. I couldn’t help but think of all the moments that could have been shared, from children’s christenings without Jon’s parents to Christmases we could all enjoy together. The fact that I was so ashamed of my parents, who worked so hard to provide for me, is something I am now incredibly ashamed of and bitterly regret.

It was only after Margaret’s death that I was finally able to confess my behavior to Jon. He had no idea how far I’d gone — but looking back, he said he noticed my stress levels increased when my family was in a situation I considered potentially awkward or embarrassing.

Like me, he was sad that we couldn’t all spend time together; especially because she knows her parents would never judge mine by their past.

A few years after Margaret’s death, Jon and I divorced after 18 years of marriage. It was an amicable separation, and my stupidity in keeping my parents apart for so many years is something we can now laugh about, even as we lament the lost time.

I don’t know all the details of Adam Peaty’s situation, but if being ashamed of his family compared to the glamorous Ramsays plays a part in increasing the distance between them, all I can say is don’t make my mistake.