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!