Yeah I know it was ‘Chicks’ in the song but how wrong is that line especially when the person with the money is me? I need a serious lesson or two in being responsible with your cash. I realised some time last year that my idea of travelling on a tiny budget were laughable and in fact this last 18 months of dossing in peoples lofts/living in the van has cost me the same as a year in my old house. I guess if you discount being holed up with other peoples cruddy families and soon to be ex-husbands I have had a better adventure than a year in a house that never felt like it was mine, in a town that I loathed, doing crappy temp jobs for little more than minimum wage or rubbing shoulders on a fortnightly basis with the scummy, drugged up, over fertile chavs down the Job Centre for a lousy 60 something quid a week cos you can’t find a job. I’ve achieved what I set out to do which was to be around for Chloe (dementia dog) in her old age and despite the fact that she hates my driving I have dragged her furry butt 4000+ miles across Europe and the UK for the ‘experience’. I guess with the state her brain is in she wouldn’t have noticed if we were in Newport Pagnell or Timbuktu. Anyway, I can get my hands on enough cash to last me about another 6 months if I’m frugal but the bombshell is that my letter requesting it is too late for this fortnights valuation (I don’t understand investments) so I will have to wait until April 14th and then it’s Easter and blah blah friggin blah it could take up to a month before I get my grubby hands on a fat cheque. Oh crap thinks I belatedly checking my bank balance – something I really should do more often, I have enough to last me only a couple of weeks so I need a plan and a bloody good one considering my MOT is due next week! In a fit of panic I’ve run through everything I can sell – bike/jewellery/body and 10p doesn’t buy you much these days. I may have to become a proper traveller and pitch up at the roadside but I won’t leave behind a manky mattress, a sofa and a few gas bottles. After a few hours mooching around a wet and grey Covent Garden I wasn’t exactly bowled over with ideas and spending £2.40 on a copy of NME (I hate that rag) just for a half page review of Interpol’s Leeds gig wasn’t a good start. Some 20 something bimbo who wouldn’t know decent music if it squirreled its way up her arse on board a moped couldn’t review a packet of bog rolls so they should give me the job. I abandoned buying my long awaited for DAB radio and had to make do with photographing the contents of the Doc Shop in a clandestine fashion (not for my benefit)and a free Latte and Brownie in Costa Coffee as I had enough points on my card to cover it. The only downside being that they had Dynarod outside the door unblocking their drains so it was both noisy and a bit smelly. This is what you get for opting out of the rat race. I could do with this blog making me money but how? Brain is whirring……Rant over. 🙂
Action on the Piccadilly line
Hey I have Fairy hair
And for those amongst you who worry about me; the shooting in South London was maybe 800 yds away from where I usually stand and get my bus in Brixton and at night too. Will I change my travel plans? Hell no, if you’re numbers up then it’s up regardless of which manner of public transport you happen to be on.
