I had to walk almost the whole way home as the chain came off my bike again and I couldn't get it back on. My bike really needed a service and I was trying to save up for it. When I finally made it home, I found Mum in floods of tears in the kitchen, clutching a piece of paper. She sobbed "The bastards have got us this time, Morto!" Apparently, our council tax has doubled! Just like that! I was dumbfounded. I thought the council only
amended payments at the beginning of the year, but Mum was too upset to show me their letter, and shredded it into pieces in her distress. I made her a cup of tea, patted her hand and told her there was nothing else for it - I would just have to up my house-keeping money again. She wailed "But you need your own life, son! You and Myra should have a place of your own, you should be thinking about raising a family, I don't want to be an old Granny; I mean, I'm going to be forty two next month, for Christ's sake." 
I knew there was no chance of her becoming a Grandmother anytime soon. On the occasions Myra drank enough cider to insist I have sex with her, she would always make me wear two condoms. The inner tube on my bicycle probably had more feeling in it. She complained that I took too long and she'd usually fallen asleep long before I'd finished.
Money-wise, I take home £801.92 a month and after I've paid Mum the house-keeping and covered the loan
payment for the solar panels (I agreed I should pay for them because my bedroom is in the loft so I get the most benefit), I have thirty seven pounds a week to spend on myself. So I am quite lucky, really. But I probably wouldn't be able to bid for that faux leather vintage retro biker jacket I'd seen on eBay now. Shame - it would have been perfect for the Danny Zuko audition. My forest green jumper had a bit of leather on it, on the elbows, so that would do. At least Mum had stopped crying now and even cheered up enough to put the oven on for the crispy pancakes - chicken curry flavour. Yay! Life is good again!

I didn't see much of Lucy today as she and George had to go off to a room together to discuss the teams' quality figures. There was a lot of chatting going on whilst they were away and one of the other team managers, Cynthia, kept looking over. She's a bit scary; her eyes are very close together and Jess tells me not to look into them in case I get hypnotised and she interferes with me whilst I'm under. Cynthia doesn't seem to walk like other people do - she sort of slides up the office as if she's on casters, looking at everyone through her goggling, all-seeing eyes. I kept my head down and tucked my mobile out of sight, behind my wheelie bin desk tidy. 
I received an email from Cathy, who sits next to Nick, asking me to vote on whether I agreed with Lucy being George's deputy. She said in the email that the team had not been consulted and nobody else had been given the opportunity to apply. There were three voting buttons: Fair, Not Fair and Couldn't Give A Shit. Cathy said that she was going to re-arrange the team meeting for Friday so we could discuss the results. I was pleased as I'd be back from my sickness leave by Friday. I saw Jess vote for "Not Fair", which surprised me, as she's such a good friend of Lucy's. 
Fortunately, I was able to give the decision plenty of thought because I didn't need to listen to what my customer was saying. He had launched into a very long story about why he'd come to have so much cash in the house when he'd been burgled, but only the Claims team needed to know that sort of information. I didn't. I tried to vote "Fair" but for some reason, the voting button didn't work, so I just mouthed "Fair" at Cathy when she looked over at me. I didn't see her write it down but I expect she would when she'd finished reading the BBC News. 
When I realised my customer had stopped speaking, I told him I had to transfer him to the claims department and confirmed he'd need to repeat it all to them. He said "You're a total brick," which was really nice of him. It makes the job worthwhile when someone appreciates your efforts.