A Debtor’S Diary: A Year in the Life of an Insolvent Baby Boomer

© 2012 by Sarah Mills. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/27/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4602-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4603-0 (e)

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Saturday 1st January 2005

Another year older and deeper in debt. My New Year’s resolution this year is going to be the same as it’s been ever since I laid hands on my first credit card over eleven years ago—stop using them and get my debts paid off. Solvency is the goal.

Went to the Co-op this morning. It was open Sunday hours—ten till four. I meant to take the dividend vouchers I got before Christmas. I didn’t use them then because I was using credit cards to live on, so I saved them for this year when I would not be using credit cards any more. I forgot to take them with me so I had to use the cash in my purse (obtained on a credit card yesterday when I drew the last of the credit on my Barclaycard from the cash machine in abbey).

Sunday 2nd January

Didn’t spend any money at all today. Dad came for Sunday dinner and we had Birds Eye roast beef in gravy with Yorkshire puddings, roasties, mash and veg and hot mince pies left over from Christmas with cream for afters.

After dinner we watched a programme I recorded in the week about children’s toys over the past several decades. I was hoping we might see Dad’s old Hornby train set or something but it wasn’t on. It was on Antiques Roadshow last week—Dad’s little maroon engine with the big key sticking out the side and several passenger coaches and goods wagons. They’re quite valuable now in good condition with the boxes, like my clockwork Cinderella waltzing with the prince and my old Muffin the Mule puppet.

I’m always fascinated to see Bako building sets on these programmes now as well—the evenings we spent at home when I was a kid, the four of us all gathered around the table doing Bako. Sometimes we did our own individual projects (I must have made the Wayside Café hundreds of times) and sometimes we’d fasten all four bases together and work on a big house with a garage, each of us working on one side.

Once I saw a Mr. Turnip from Whirligig on TV and a Prudence Kitten glove puppet, both of which my sister and I had as children. But although Mum and Dad had two daughters, we used to love playing with Dad’s train set—the Fyffe’s banana wagon had real sliding doors and there were coal trucks and bogey coaches. We also loved our farm, which we used to set up on a big tray Dad had made and painted green for the purpose, with a large wooden farmhouse at one end, also made by Dad, and we had fencing to set up fields to put all the lead animals in, and a pond for the ducks (made by Mum with a handbag mirror) and there were sheepdogs outside the kitchen door and chickens scratching in the yard.

You wouldn’t see our big dolls house on any of these programmes though, because that also was made by Mum and Dad, and it had a staircase and opening casement windows, real electric light and a roof garden. Mum had run up the miniature curtains on her sewing machine and made pictures for the walls and there was even a cat curled up with kittens in a basket on the hearth.

Monday 3rd January

Made lasagne today. Nick was home at lunchtime so he ate with me. I invited Jonathan to join us, but he was busy painting his bathroom. Later, Nick went over to Jonathan’s so I gave him the spare lasagne to take with him. Jon has a cat very much like Garfield in colour and character, so they could fight over the lasagne between them. And if Jon’s girlfriend was there, there should be enough for her, too.

The only money I spent today was writing out a cheque for £30 being the minimum payment on my marbles credit card bill, whilst Nick was out this afternoon—I wouldn’t like either of my sons to know how much in debt I am.

Tuesday 4th January

Back to work. Ouch, what a shock to the system. A person could get quite used to relaxing at home watching lovely films on television in the glow of the Christmas tree lights in a nice cosy lounge, eating Christmas chocolates and general leftovers. But in view of the terrible disaster and suffering afflicting such a large part of the world in the wake of the Boxing Day tsunami, a person really shouldn’t moan about having to leave their nice cosy lounge and the Christmas tree lights to go and stand at a cold, wet, draughty bus stop, waiting for a bus to work.

As always when the holidays are over and the New Year beginning for real, I was in a reflective mood, mentally taking stock of my life.

My name is Caroline Clarke (known as Callie) and I am a 57-year-old, single divorcee with no partner and two grown up sons. My youngest son, Jonathan, is buying a house in Bramcote and my eldest son, Nick, had been living and working in London until his job and his relationship ended almost simultaneously, whereupon he gave up his flat in Notting Hill and is currently back home, staying with me for a while until he sorts his life out which, knowing him, won’t take long, so I am just making the most of having him around. Not that I’m lonely when I live on my own. I think I’ve always been a loner by nature and that’s probably why my marriage failed—I don’t know. All I do know is that I enjoy living in my own personal space and, after being alone for so long, my two sons are the only males I could possibly share a house with now.

The house in question is an ex-council house on a council estate built on a site that used to be woodland, if the names of the roads are anything to go by. We live at No.9 Beechwood Grove and the surrounding streets are Ash Tree Lane, Birch Avenue, Hazel Grove, Bracken Close and Willow Drive.

I work as a secretary for a little family law firm in the city centre that used to be called Hubert Brown & Sons, but in 2003 Mr. Brown’s eldest son, a hot shot lawyer from America, came home to take over the business on his father’s partial retirement, and changed the name of the firm to Legal Eagles.

But it’s a pleasant life that I lead with my wonderful family and I would be perfectly happy and content if it were not for one thing—the disaster area I laughingly call my finances.

The problem is, there’s a big hole in the bottom of my bank account through which money constantly drains without me ever having to go to the trouble of actually drawing any out and spending it.

There is a shoal of piranha fish living in my account. They are called Direct Debits and when my salary cheque is dropped in every month they go into a feeding frenzy, biting huge chunks out of it and stripping it bare in seconds so there’s nothing left to live on.

So this year, as every year for as far back as I can remember, my New Year resolution has to be to get on top of the situation, work out a budget and stick to it, spending as little money as possible whilst trying not to use credit cards at all.

I posted my repayment to marbles on the way to work this morning and there was another bill, my Bank of Scotland credit card bill, waiting for me on the mat tonight, as well as a bank statement.

As I’ve already mentioned, my resolution for last year had been broken and I was using credit cards again, but now I have stopped, I have to work out how much is going out of my account every month and manage to live on what is left.

So, after tea, when Nick had gone out for a pint or two with his mates, I got out a notebook and pen and sat down at the kitchen table with my bank statement to make a start.

At the top of the statement is a summary:

Oh, I don’t like the look of this at all. I think February will give me a clearer picture of what I’m up against. Where did I put the leftover Christmas sherry?

Wednesday 5th January

Right, let’s have another go. Think positive. The sooner you know what you’re up against, the sooner you can start figuring out how to deal with it, and I’ll be no worse off for knowing.

So here I am at the kitchen table again with the bank statement and a calculator. I should be taking down the Christmas trimmings really, but I’ll do that at the weekend. Right, my monthly outgoings are:—

It’s not having enough to live on that forced me to start using credit cards in the first place. Of course, then my salary was far less than it is now. My current earnings would be perfectly adequate if it wasn’t for the accumulation of all that debt.

When I applied for, and was granted, my first credit card it was only going to be a temporary arrangement to get me through a bad patch—just until I’d found my feet.

When Dave left us, the boys were at school and I worked part-time during school hours, my earnings supplemented by maintenance payments from Dave until he got made redundant two years later. So for the next few years until Jonathan became sixteen and left school I was entitled to Family Credit to supplement my part-time earnings with accompanying housing and council tax benefits so, although there was never anything to spare for luxuries, I had my carefully worked out budget and stuck to it, and though meals had to be carefully planned down to the very last scrape of margarine on the very last slice of bread, we managed—just.

After Jonathan left school, my entitlement to Family Credit ended and I had to find a full-time job. I’d been working 24 hours a week anyway so moving up to full-time hours did not mean a substantial increase in my salary, but without the housing and council tax benefit I was substantially worse off as I now had to pay my rent and council tax in full.

I worked out my new budget and discovered that instead of the £25 per week housekeeping I had been used to having there was only £85 left for the whole month and I needed to put away savings for Christmas, birthdays, clothes, etc. out of that. Plus my teeth started playing up and needed attention and I also discovered, on trying to read the dictionary one day, that I needed new glasses for work. The boys were bringing home a weekly wage now, but as Nick was on a YTS at the time and Jonathan an apprenticeship, and they had travelling expenses and their own clothes etc. to buy, the twenty pounds each they were able to pay in board (the going rate at the time) and the increase in my salary on going full-time still did not make up the deficit caused by loss of the housing and council tax benefits. There was still a substantial shortfall in the credit column of my budget, as opposed to the debit side. The effective drop in income may not sound like very much now, but the difference it made then was huge. It was the difference between being able to scrape through—just, and not being able to manage at all.

I pulled my old portable typewriter down from the top of the wardrobe, blew the dust off it and typed out neat columns of income and outgoings, which I took along to the Citizens Advice Bureau. A very nice man looked over my figures and with a sigh and a shake of his head told me I was caught in what they referred to as the poverty trap, whereby I was not earning enough to live on, but I was earning too much to get any help with anything. The only suggestion he could make was that I got rid of the telephone, but as that was the only means by which the boys could speak to their Dad if they wanted to, or my parents could get in touch with us if they needed to, I wasn’t prepared to do that. At this point in time, we had no rented TV set and no cable TV, we were making do with a very old second-hand set that needed kick-starting and the occasional thump to keep a picture on the screen, aided and abetted by a TV aerial in the final stages of metal fatigue, which eventually fell off the roof altogether, so the telephone really was the only luxury item on my list.

In the meantime I had dental and optician’s bills to pay, our old telly was on the blink once again and Christmas was coming.

Then what should come through the door but an application form for a credit card from my bank at that time offering me 6 months interest-free credit. I could use that to get us through this present difficult period of readjustment, I thought, and after Christmas I’d tighten my belt, make whatever economies were necessary, and get it all paid back within the 6 months. That was the plan, anyway. The rest, as they say, is history.

Thursday 6th January

We had Excel training today at work, so we can type schedules on spreadsheets on our computers. Ugh. I hate Mr. Warren Brown. Why couldn’t he have stayed in the States and left the rest of us living in our cosy little time-warp somewhere in the middle of the last century.

There was a Morgan Stanley credit card bill waiting for me on the mat tonight. I’d forgotten that one. It was the last card I had in December last year, when I transferred part of the balance from my abbey credit card to get 6 months interest-free. The credit limit on that new card was £2,500 and I think the maximum they would let me transfer was £2,295.

Friday 7th January

Paid my two outstanding credit card bills tonight—£48.02 to Bank of Scotland and £58 to Morgan Stanley. Got an application form for a Morgan Stanley Platinum card waiting for me on the hall mat tonight. Amongst the advantages is a special low interest rate on balance transfers of 5.9% p.a. I looked at the Bank of Scotland statement and I’m paying 13.9% on my balance transfer with them so I filled in the application form and applied to transfer the balance from that card (£2,400). I then picked up the next one in the pile, my Barclaycard statement, and realised I am paying 15.9% APR with them, so I applied to transfer £1,400 from there. My credit limit with them is £1,500 and my current balance, according to my last statement, is £1,449.64, leaving available credit of £50.36. As I drew £50 out on New Year’s Eve, I should’ve applied to transfer the whole £1,500 but still, never mind.

As soon as I’d filled it in and stuck down the envelope I started wishing I’d transferred the £1,213 left on my abbey account in case they phone up again, as they have done before, and offer me no interest at all for 6 months on balance transfers, but its too late now.

Saturday 8th January

I’d used my Co-op dividend vouchers to shop in the week, but had the £10 one—members’ share of profits—left, which was in my work bag and I forgot to take. Well, I didn’t forget exactly, I just picked up the wrong envelope which had had the dividend vouchers in, so when I got to the checkout and opened it there was only a booklet on healthy eating and things like that, so I had to use my debit card to pay for the shopping.

Sunday 9th January

I cooked the piece of pork I bought yesterday for Sunday dinner today. It was a rolled piece of shoulder and it looked nice and lean at the end. I followed the cooking instructions exactly but there was none of that nice smell of roasting pork you usually get and when we came to eat it, it was tough and tasteless. It was only a cheap joint—£3.29—and quite big. Dad, Nick and I had a generous helping but there was loads left over which I just chucked in the bin.

Monday 10th January

Work. Posted two credit card bills on my way to work this morning and got another one waiting for me on the mat when I got home tonight. This one is from Goldfish and is for £53. I’m a little concerned that the three bills I’ve had this month so far are each around the £50-mark and there’s a few more to come. How did it get to this? I didn’t get in this mess by going out and buying clothes or going on spending sprees for anything really. It’s all gone on just getting by. I’ve used credit cards when I wasn’t earning enough to live on and as my salary has increased, so have the debts correspondingly so I’m still no better off.

Tuesday 11th January

I did the ironing tonight after we’d had tea and Nick had gone up to Dean’s. He and Dean Thomas had been pals at school and afterwards and were now enjoying catching up with each other after Nick’s five years in London. Although Dean has his own house now, he still lives close by and Nick has fallen into the habit, since he’s been home, of going round to Dean’s on a Tuesday evening when Dean’s partner Claire is out, to crack a few cans, watch football on the telly and just generally catch up. So I have fallen into the habit of doing the ironing on a Tuesday night when I’ve got the house to myself and setting the ironing board up in the living room in front of the telly and getting the boring job out of the way. Tonight I watched Celebrity Big Brother because there was nothing else on I fancied. I missed The Way We Were on ITV1 at 7.30, which I would like to have watched.

Wednesday 12th January

Got a new keyboard at work today. The letters had worn off my old one. Suddenly realised tonight that I had my eyes tested before Christmas and never handed the receipt to Celia to get my fifteen pounds back from the firm which I’m entitled to as a VDU operator staring at a screen all day.

I drew another £20 from my bank account at lunchtime. That’s £60 I’ve taken out of it this year so far—£20 last week (well, you can’t live on Co-op vouchers alone, there are out-of-pocket expenses like £1 gift vouchers for people at work with a birthday—we have four this month; lottery tickets; a cup of tea in the café with my friend Poll on Thursday lunchtimes; the window cleaner coming round) then at the weekend I forgot to take my voucher to the Co-op and had to use my bank card as I only had £10 in my purse and £20-worth of shopping, then another £20 today.

Thursday 13th January

I bought two large baking potatoes from Budgens on the way home tonight and we had them with grated cheese and some leftover bacon for our tea. Nick was in tonight, which was nice, and we watched a film on Channel 5 and Nick made me a lovely large Bacardi and coke with some Co-op white rum left over from Christmas.

Having failed to find a suitable job Nick is now looking to set up his own Internet business with Alex, an ex-colleague and friend. They used to work together years ago at the Starlight Club behind the bar. Nick told me about their plans for their business venture tonight. I had a lovely evening sitting talking to him and watching TV. He still has that errant lock of unruly blond hair that keeps falling into his eyes and he brushes it absent-mindedly away as he talks. I can’t believe he’s thirty.

Friday 14th January

Nick was out tonight and I’d just settled down to read some interesting mail (1.9% on balance transfers till July from abbey) and sort out which balances to transfer (the ones with the highest interest rates of course—I’m getting it all worked out gradually) when the phone rang. It was Bill, a one-time neighbour of Mum and Dad’s, now a widower in his early sixties, who we bump into from time to time. He was on the phone from 9.15 to 11-o-clock, so I never got my housekeeping sorted.

Nick came home just after 11-o-clock and we chatted over a cup of tea before going to bed. I’d spent the early part of the evening watching soaps, chatting to Dad on the phone and washing up the tea things. I had also got my cheque written out to Goldfish for £53 and that’s in my bag ready to post. I wish I’d managed to get that other thousand pounds away from abbey before they offered me the 1.9% on balance transfers back, but its only for six months so I’m sure I’ll get plenty more chances.

Saturday 15th January

I went into town this morning, to Marks and Spencer, to get some decent meat. Nick dropped me off at the Salutation on his way to Homebase to get some paint and carpet tiles for doing up the premises he and Alex are renting for their business venture. I bought four Sunday roasting joints—beef, pork, lamb and gammon. With the turkey roast I’ve got in the freezer I’ve got the meat for the next five Sunday dinners. I used money I’d been given for Christmas to get them, but I’m very hopeful I’ll be able to get through January at least without recourse to credit cards.

When I got home I’d got a statement from Studio for £27.60. I sent off for a pack of Christmas cards in their half price sale for £1.99 with one extra pack free. When I sent the order off I overlooked the fact I’d have to pay postage and packing of £4.99 so the invoice that came with them was for £6.98. It said on the invoice that I would be receiving a statement telling me how and when to pay. Since then I’ve heard nothing from them till today’s statement, stamped Overdue Account on which they’ve added a £20 administration charge, a service charge and payment protection to the original £6.98 so my pack of half-price £1.99 cards (with one extra pack free) has cost me £27.60.

Sunday 16th January

We had the lamb for dinner today. It was very nice but very small for £5.99. Jonathan couldn’t come over because he was working from home today. Nick had dinner with Dad and I, then Alex picked him up and the two of them went to begin the cleaning up operation on the premises before they can start painting and laying carpet tiles.

After they’d gone, Dad and I watched a DVD Lucy at work had lent me. It was Cary Grant and Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth and Dad went home shortly after it had finished.

Tonight, after washing the pots I watched Grease on ITV2, had a bath and went to bed. Nick is still not back but he’d taken clothes to change into and they were going out for a drink afterwards.

Work tomorrow. Never mind, it’s been a lovely weekend.

Monday 17th January

Another bill came today, from Mint. The minimum payment is £32. I think I’ll pay it with one of the credit card cheques from abbey, the ones with 1.9% interest on balance transfers until July. I might transfer everything over to that for 6 months, except Morgan Stanley, because that’s interest free for 6 months. I have applied for a Morgan Stanley platinum card with 5.9% interest on balance transfers for the life of the balance and requested the balances from Bank of Scotland and Barclaycard be transferred to that, but I’ve heard nothing yet. There are quite a few more I could transfer though, as well as the Mint one. If it ends up that 5.9% is the highest rate I’m paying, even if only temporarily, that’s got to be a result.

Tuesday 18th January

Tonight I wrote out a cheque to pay my Studio bill of £27.60. I also wrote out one of my credit card cheques from abbey for the full balance on my Mint account of £1,432.32p, to transfer it to abbey to take advantage of the 1.9% interest rate until July. I could not find the APR on my Mint statement but the total interest charged this month was £17.02 with an estimate for next month of £19.57. Another advantage of paying one balance off with a credit card cheque for transfer to another account means nothing actually comes out of my bank account for that bill this month.

Had a letter from Citi Financial today with an application form to fill in offering a 2.9% interest rate for the life of the balance on balance transfers so I think I’ll apply for a Citi Platinum Visa card because that’s better than the 5.9% Morgan Stanley are offering.

Wednesday 19th January

Posted off payments to Studio and Mint today. Got my credit card bill from abbey. The total balance on it is only £190.65 with a minimum payment of £5. I had transferred the last thousand on it after all. That must be the one that’s turned up on my Mint statement (I can’t keep track of all these transactions). I don’t think there was any particular advantage in transferring it to Mint, I just wanted to get as much money as I could out of my abbey account when the 6 months interest free was up, so that they’d make me another offer I couldn’t refuse to transfer it all back again. I presently have £6,409.35 available credit on that account. I’ve already transferred £1,432.32 from Mint but I’ve still got plenty of credit to use with my credit card cheques at the 1.9% interest rate until July.

I’ve also applied for the Citi Financial card and made a note on the envelope that I must transfer balances to that in June as it’s 2.9% for the life of balances transferred in the first six months. So I’ll see what the interest is like and I might just leave them there then, rather than keep moving debts around for six months at a time. It’s also much more convenient to have them all in one place (only one cheque to write out each month instead of half a dozen) but it all depends on what my credit limit is. My abbey credit limit is my biggest so far at £6,600 but I think I’ve got too much debt to transfer it all to them (and that’s apart from the £10,000-worth I’m paying off by way of a bank loan). Also you can’t use your credit right up to the limit as they then take the month’s interest off before adding the month’s payment on so you overshoot your limit and incur very harsh penalty charges as well as null and voiding the promotion (whether it be 6 months interest free credit or whatever).

But that’s only one issue of the day.

Nick went out this morning and discovered a slate had blown off the roof in the gales we’ve been having lately and landed on the bonnet of his car, severely denting and scratching the paintwork, and leaving a hole in the roof to the right of the chimney pot. I phoned the insurance company and they gave me a claim number and said they would send me a claim form. They said I should be aware that I will have to pay a £50 excess and lose the No Claims bonus on my buildings and contents insurance for a year. They then said I should contact a roofwright and ask for a report on exactly what damage has been caused and what the cost of repairs will be and send it to them with the claim form. I phoned Access Roofing and they are coming tomorrow to look at the damage and will phone me at work with the verdict.

It’s blowing up a storm out there again tonight.

Watched Desperate Housewives.

Thursday 20th January

Did not hear anything from Access Roofing.

Posted my payment to abbey on way to work. Only waiting for the Barclaycard statement now and I can add up what I’ve spent in minimum payments to credit card companies this month. I was hoping it might come today but there were only two letters waiting for me tonight.

One was from the Irish Lottery enclosing my personal lucky numbers worked out for me using my birth date, name, address and the ancient mystic arts of numerology and Chinese astrology, which could bring me all the luck I need to win £50,000 (or I could play by choosing my own lucky numbers, of course). It’s just £1 per draw to enter, but in the corner of the form to fill in to pay, in a green circle it says "play for only £1 and underneath in smaller writing Minimum 10 draws". OK, so it’s going to cost at least £10, not £1, even though you get so many free draws as well.

Oh no, I can’t justify spending £10 even for the chance of winning £50,000. I daren’t draw any more out of my bank account than I absolutely have to—I had another £20 out of it yesterday—ten pounds worth of shopping (a bag of baking potatoes, mince and the other ingredients to make chilli—an onion, tin of chopped tomatoes, tin of red kidney beans, chilli mix and some other bits and bobs) and £10 for my purse to buy my ordinary lottery tickets (I have two per week—my birthday numbers and a lucky dip, plus other out of pocket expenses). That’s £80 I’ve had in housekeeping out of my bank account so far this month and I’m not sure it can stand the pace. There’s the weekend shopping coming up too—I don’t know what I’m going to do about that. Still, the chilli on jacket potatoes we had for tea was very nice though, and it did us two nights.

But back to the Irish Lottery—no, I can’t do it. I simply can’t afford to. I do like the idea of these personalised numbers though. I think I’ll just put it in a drawer in the bureau for now, in its pretty green envelope decorated with shamrocks and lottery balls.

The other letter I got today was from Severn Trent wanting me to insure my underground external water supply pipe. Apparently as a homeowner I am legally responsible for the underground external water supply pipe which brings water into my home from where it enters my home to the boundary of my property, and if this pipe bursts or springs a leak, it is my responsibility to sort it out. The cost of a plumber’s call-out and repair bill are not covered by most standard home insurance policies and 60% of plumbers do not provide an emergency service.

There’s a water supply pipe cover reply card with a Direct Debit mandate to fill in attached to the bottom of the letter. No, I can’t. It’s only £15.99 per year (£3.99 per quarter) but I already have my internal water installations covered by them and my electrical wiring installations, both of which come out of my account quarterly and muck up my budget and even £3.99, if it happens to be the last £3.99 of my overdraft facility, could mean the difference between something bigger and more important (like the mortgage) being paid or not being paid.

No, until I’ve got myself sorted, no more piranha, not even tiny ones. In any case, right at this moment I’m more concerned about the hole in my roof.

It’s very windy again tonight. Nick is out somewhere with his car. I’ll be glad when he gets home safe. The wind keeps buffeting the front door and making me think its him coming in, but it isn’t.

Friday 21st January

Nick came in just after I went to bed last night. As soon as I’d heard him come in, locking the door behind him, I snuggled under my duvet and went to sleep. I didn’t mind the sound of the wind roaring around the eaves then (as long as it left the rest of the slates on my roof where they should be) so long as I felt all my loved ones were safely indoors.

It was still windy when I went to work this morning. Again I heard nothing from Access Roofing. I understand that they must be really busy. Nick tried to get an estimate for repairs to his car. His garage told him it would be two weeks before they could look at it. There is so much storm damage around.

My claim form came from the insurance company today, but they need a report on the damage and the cost of repairs. They’ve filled in all the answers from the information I gave them over the phone, they just need me to attach the expert report, sign the form and send it back.

The only other mail today was a letter from my friend Kate in Norfolk, a new credit card from Bank of Scotland (which, of course, I won’t be using) and two offers of low cost loans, one at 10.5% interest which I can have now and not start making repayments on till July and one at 6.9%. I’ve put the two loan offers in the bin because I really can’t cope with another loan around my neck, so as far as I’m concerned that is not an option. Still no Barclaycard statement, so I can’t work out my credit card outgoings for this month yet. Never mind, I can wait to learn the awful truth.

I went to the bank in my lunch hour and drew out another £20. I had to for the weekend shopping. The tenner in my purse had gone (or was spoken for) by then—a fresh loaf of bread last night, lottery tickets and What’s On TV. I had my lottery at work to pay—there’s a syndicate of ten of us who pay fifty pence each for five lines—then there was £2 for the Going Out Club". Jean, Lucy, Helen and I pay £2 a week and every couple of months we go out after work for something to eat and a few drinks. Also, on Friday nights, I put £2 in the tin at home for the window cleaner and Forest lottery ticket (I was talked into that one by a friend of Nick’s who was in the Forest Boys team who used to collect it). So in total I spend £3.50 per week on lottery tickets (£2 on lotto—£1 for my birthday line and £1 for my lucky dip—50p for the syndicate at work and £1 for the Forest lottery ticket). The window cleaner came tonight and I gave him £3. He told me it would be going up to £3.50 next time.

Saturday 22nd January

Jonathan took me to a cat show today. He did not show Monty, his cat, who is a pedigree and showable, but neither of us had been to one before and Jon just wanted to see what it was like. It was good—row upon row of pens containing cats of all shapes and sizes, breeds and colours. There were also lots of stalls selling cat merchandise and all sorts of things for cats themselves that I’ve never seen before, like drinking fountains and activity centres with hammocks. Jon said what he could really do with for Monty was a bidet!

Sunday 23rd