visiting or home?

I was staying at my maternal grandparents' home in Newcastle for a week or so. They were alive and well, though they have been long gone from this world. They were as I remember them when they were young enough to be well, active and happy, but still old enough to be 'grandparently'. Whilst I was with them, they simply went about their business, tending to the home and garden. Nanny did the things she did when she was alive: planted seeds, weeded, burnt off the dead wood and leaves 'down the back', mended socks, danced to music, cooked cakes and talked to the dog. Pa did things typical of Pa: read the paper, washed and wiped up, tinkered with something that needed fixing, laughed and joked, wrote things down with his careful hands and talked to Nanny. I felt so welcome there. It was easy to stay awhile with them, so natural, and I felt none of the sadness I feel now in recalling it and writing it down; I felt happy. I felt I should offer to help them with whatever needed doing, and though they allowed me to contribute, it was not expected. It was as though their home was a living, breathing organism that they naturally looked after, without resentment or any of the stress that seems to accompany the rushed house-cleaning of life now. As part of my stay, I had a few outings with old friends: R and A, who, in my dream, were interchangeable. There seemed to be an event like a wedding or a christening, for which I was home, and it revolved around my friend. I remember the final day of the stay, dressing in the last clean pair of socks in my suitcase (I am not sure why I didn't wash them in my grandparents' laundry) and a rather haphazard outfit. Originally we were going to go to the zoo but A told me that we would be too late, that the last bus had gone, so we decided instead to go out and have a coffee. We found ourselves in an otherwise empty Chinese restaurant and we were seated at a table set for six. I sat with my back to the wall and A sat facing me, with her back to the open restaurant. I looked at the menu and was surprised to see that the prices altered radically depending upon where you were seated. The same meal cost me, seated where I was, $100 more than A. The waiter ushered four young men in and seated them at our table. This was slightly uncomfortable to say the least. A wanted to swap places with me and I agreed, so we exchanged seats. A vegetable and rice noodle dish was served, steaming on the table. I tried to talk with A but there was suddenly a white pillar between us, around which I had to duck to see her let alone speak with her. I could understand why this seat was much less expensive than where A now sat.