Everything begins somewhere

I'm at home, not alone but ministering to the needs of the off-spring who has a bit of a chesty cough and so is having a couple of days away from school.

It is gone one and I have managed to persuade her to get dressed - 'your father will be home soon' was my weapon of choice. Having gone through good handful of paper from the packet by the printer she has now moved on to Spyro on the PlayStation. Currently it is looping through the backing music while she works through her soup and bread.

The Fat Bastard sent me a text message asking me to call my boss which I've done in the last ten minutes or so. Bearing in mind I'm earning around £80 per week (before tax) on my regular hours which is around $US140 or $AUS190 I think being asked to contribute £15 to the 'Secret Santa' is a weeny bit cheeky. But I can't admit that so I've said yes and will have to buy someone that much worth of Christmas present.

Ouch!

I'm still living in expectation of being hauled off to prison over outstanding debts to various organisations and I'm not confident that next month's bills will be payable; if the mortgage cannot be paid next month I can see us being on the streets before Christmas.

So why did I say yes?