merely partially obstructive

The first few times my parents came to visit after the emergence of their grandchild they could stay in what is now his room, as he was still in the crib in our room. He's been dragged through for the odd night when Nicky's parents have been through overnight but for longer visits (such as those from people who live 300 miles away rather than 80) the options would be kipping on the floor in the living-room or in the dining-room/library/garage (after shifting enough stuff out of it to make enough space), which is why my parents have tended to look for cheap hotel deals for their visits. This time they were able to bag a couple of weeks in a for-sale flat recently vacated by one of Nicky's pals, though the amount of stuff they brought with them seemed barely different to the amount they bring up when they're only staying for a few days. Despite text messages including (in response to a query concerning the identity of the road along which they were approaching the city) "No idea at moment. Taken a diversion towards sea." they were waiting outside by the time I escaped work to pop over with the keys (and the instructions about their various peculiarities and waggling-requirements) and with TFP's surplus Blackburn EX1 rack (the penultimate step in preparing newoldbike for load-bearing duties) strapped upside-down to my own rack and on which I lightly gouged my leg when I forgot it was there when performing a rolling dismount behind the parent-car. Attaching it to the stairwell immediately brought back memories of the flat I lived in in Buccleuch Street ten years ago; I sort of miss the fun of carrying a bike up four flights of ill-lit stairs and wondering if the handlebar (or stem (or banister)) would give way overnight.