When we finished our VT for our Charleston, Joe turned to me and said, "Whilst we're in the area, we might as well see my dad." I looked reluctant but he assured me, "We'll only be like 20 minutes or so. Bring some lunch or something. Then we can go straight to the village hall and practise."

"OK." To be honest, I was sort of nervous about meeting more of his family. It was different with his uncle because it was for a VT. It was for work, really. This was "meeting the dad" and even though we weren't together, I still wanted to make a good impression.

"Hi, Dad. Dianne and I are in the area and are bringing lunch with us to eat at yours. Do you want anything?" I couldn't hear Joe's dad's answer, but Joe continued. "You sure? We can't have anything heavy though, we've got training straight after this." ... "I said nothing heavy." ... Joe laughed. "Alright. See you in a bit then." He hung up. "Dad said he'd fix us something to eat. No need to get him anything."

"What's he making us?" I asked as we walked to the car.

"He's got leftover Sunday dinner. Said he'd stick it between two slices of bread."

"What's in a Sunday dinner?" He looked over at me in disbelief.

"Seriously? You don't know what's in a roast?"

"You said Sunday dinner, not a roast. But no, I don't know."

"It varies, I guess. I love pork, but Dad's probably done chicken. He's a brilliant cook. We'll have to see what the trimmings are. That's the vegetables that go along with the meat." Before we knew it, Joe parked up outside his dad's house. We just walked through the door and went into the living room.

Joe's dad stood up to greet me.

"Dad, Dianne. Dianne, Dad."

"Call me Graham. Nice to meet you in person." Graham's a hugging person too.

"Nice to meet you too. Thank you for having us, Graham." He led us to the kitchen and I said, "I'm curious to know what's in a Sunday roast." He looked at me and then at Joe as if to say, /Seriously?/ I giggled. "I'm Australian, not British. And Joe said exactly the same when I said that to him too."

"And how many years have you lived here, Dianne?" Graham's laugh was so much like Joe's.

"Well, technically we can have a roast any day of the week. It's just traditional to have it on a Sunday."

"Plus it comes in handy for having leftovers the rest of the week. /Like Monday lunchtime/."

Seems Graham took the hint and stood me in front of the fridge. "So I did roast chicken." Joe and I shared a small smile together. "That's alright in a sandwich, but you need something more than that to keep you fuelled up. There's parsnips, carrots, potato, green beans, this cabbage—"

"I love cabbage! That looks different though."

"You sound try it then," he said, taking out the covered dishes. "There are pigs in blankets."

"GIVE ME! They have my name written all over it." He saw my confused look and said, "Sausages wrapped in bacon." I pulled a face at that. I didn't like bacon.

"Gravy and other sauces. All of that is quite heavy, so I suggest sticking whatever you want between two slices of bread, buttered, of course. Do you like the crusts on or off?"

"I don't mind."

"Tea or coffee?"

"Ooh, coffee." I put the stuff I liked between the buttered bread.

"Oh, I wanted those." Joe was stood beside me, doing his own sandwich. This was oddly domesticated for two people who weren't even a couple yet. Yet? I picked up the green beans he wanted and put it in his mouth. "Mmm. Thank you. I'd like some in my sandwich though."

"Tough. You snooze, you lose." By that time, Graham had already gone into the living room, taking his own lunch with him and we joined him.

"So which dance are you performing this Saturday?"

"Charleston," Joe answered. "How do you think I'm going to do?" I looked between the father and son to figure out the expressions on their faces. Joe was looking at his dad as if to get his approval. Graham had a glint in his eye that looked similar to the one Joe would wear before giving a cheeky remark. When he saw how sincere Joe looked and sounded, that look disappeared.

"Judging from how the jive went, I think you'll do very well."

"That's what you said in one of his earliest Strictly videos. Then Joe said you were only saying that for the camera."

"You've watched it," they both said—Graham as a statement and Joe as a question. An English expression came to mind in their case. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Well, yeah." I was grateful I was wearing makeup otherwise they would have seen me blushing. "I've gotta know my dance partner well, haven't I?" I didn't miss the blush creeping up his long neck. I love that neck.

"What do you think, Dianne? Your opinion is the one that counts." I wasn't too sure about that. I looked at Joe then and saw the same look on his face.

"We haven't done much training," I gave my honest reply. "But I think he's going to do great. We just need to do more training."

"And on that note, we'd better go. Thanks for the food, Dad." They gave each other a proper hug, then Graham gave me the same hug.

"Yeah, thanks, Gray Ham." His laugh was more of a cackle. "The food was lovely."

"Pleasure."

When we got into the car, I said to Joe, "I like Graham. He's a lot like you."

"So do you like me then?"

"Course I like you," I said, nudging his arm with my elbow. "You're a laugh."