Would you let your husband's best mate move in with your family?

When I set up home with my husband I went swiftly from bachelorette party pad to cosy coupledom complete with books on how to ‘distress furniture’, a newfound love for cushions and ‘artfully’ draping throws on everything.

If someone had suggested we take on a lodger or let a friend stay for longer than a weekend at this point, I would have laughed in his or her hippy–dippy face. After all we were smug newlyweds, and all we wanted to do then was luxuriate in our own annoying married bliss. At weekends we might hang out naked, have in-depth discussions around our dreams for the future, cook each other complicated dinners and have sex whenever and wherever we pleased. Lodger – no thanks.

As any weary old married person knows, this irritating and unsociable phase lasts two years TOPS, so lets fast forward 12 years. Our dinners are now more cobbled together concoctions taken from our house bible – Jamie’s 15 Minute Meals. We slob around in whatever clothes are vaguely clean, we spend too much time in front of electronic devices and we try to get as much sleep as humanely possible. Sex? Well let’s just say we do okay, although I’m sure my husband, Jules, would disagree.

Our standard family living arrangements aligned with what our friends and contemporaries were also doing at this stage in their lives and that is living in a child-friendly space with a yard, plenty of mass-produced furniture and a fully stocked fridge.

It was at this point however, that we invited my husband’s best buddy, Tim, to crash with us for a couple of weeks. I’ll admit I was skeptical at first. Won’t our three-year-old boy Toby be irritating to someone unrelated? Can I still relax in Ugg boots and pyjamas in front of the TV every night? Will he be messy? Will he eat all the chocolate?

A year later Tim was still with us and I tell you why – it was fun and it worked. He lived in our ‘manny annexe’, under the house, which is complete with bedroom, bathroom and a teeny lounge area. He paid an agreed rental amount for the space and contributed to shopping, cooking and the occasional house clean. He did eat a lot of chocolate but he also made sure we had a well-stocked supply so it was a win-win for everyone. Having an extra person on the team was great. In fact, we never wanted him to leave.

Our friendly housemate worked shifts as an event planner so I often had someone to drag me to the gym or go for coffee with. I was grateful when during the school holidays – after doing every magic show, pirate show, museum show, theatre show and scooter circuit – Tim was there to provide adult conversation and to step in and take the little beast out for a few hours.

Tim’s love of fun and adventure as well as his ability to talk at length about poo, meant he was way more than a lodger, he was (and still is) an adored ‘uncle’ who is right up there at the top of Toby’s ‘who I love the most’ list.

Having Tim around brought variety and spontaneity to our household. During the week Tim and Jules would often play squash together or watch man films while I was out with the girls. They’d go out on man dates to play pool when I would just want to stay on the sofa and cry over Call the Midwife, and Tim has babysat for us on many occasions too.

Although Jules and I may have cooked more often, Tim makes a mean lasagna, roast dinner and fettucine cabonara, meaning it was actually best for our waistlines that he didn’t play chef too often. The benefits for Tim were that he was able to live in a great part of town, hang out with friends, have gym buddies on tap and he could still escape to his room, shut the door on family chaos and watch Foxtel when needed. I like to think we all respected each other’s boundaries and we tried not to overstep the mark or get under each other’s feet.

Like any dysfunctional family however we had the propensity to annoy the hell out of each other and, from Tim’s perspective, that mainly included the fact we get up at 6.30am and in his words, ‘stomp around like a heard of elephants’. From our perspective we’d find our wayward ‘teenage son’, as he is lovingly known, to be a tad flimsy when it ccame to telling us what time and whether or not he’d actually be home for dinner/bed/the entire weekend. His room did also occasionally resemble a crack den but he was super efficient and neat when it came to bringing in and folding the washing.

Obviously this type of arrangement would not suit everyone and it is rather dependent on square footage and ratio of bathrooms and televisions to people. Although at times we probably all thought we might need a little more space (who doesn’t?) we did all benefit from this quirky arrangement at that particular juncture in our lives.

When Tim did finally fly the coop earlier this year, I realised I could go back to sitting around watching repeats of Sex and the City in my underpants. Liberating for all of five minutes, but not quite so much fun as spending time with a mate.