Monday, 8 December 2008

I am broke – AND, apparently, look old enough to be my friend’s mother

I haven’t posted on salma for a while, and thanks to those of you who noticed (that's you, Johann).

Part of the reason for this is that I have found myself financially embarrassed and, as happens in these circumstances, somewhat paralysed. I can’t really work more than I do (I work a lot; and there isn’t, given the world’s financial climate and the global end-of-the-year closedown, a whole horde of freelance work going around right now) and I don’t have useful things like savings or policies I can dip into or cash up.

So I’ve been lying awake at night a lot, biting my pillow.

Finally, I decided that I should sell my house. I love my house but it’s a very big house and next year it will be, relatively speaking, even bigger, when my son goes off to university in another town – it seems somewhat profligate for just me and my daughter to be rattling around in a large rambling four-bedroomed house on a big piece of land.

So I asked a friend/estate agent, Annie, to come around and do an evaluation.

As it happened, when Annie arrived, with Susan, an estate-agent-in-training, in tow, the house was full of people – my two teens and some of their friends; and my 34-year-old friend Dean, who is living with us temporarily.

The two women had to put their nose into all the rooms – that is what estate agents do – and Dean’s was one of them. Dean, dear thing that he is, isn’t the tidiest person on the planet, and I felt driven to say, on opening the door to his room and being confronted with what looked a little like bomb site, ‘Oh, sorry, excuse the snakepit.’ Dean, who was hovering, laughed uneasily.

Susan, who doesn’t know me or my family from Joe Soap, shot Dean a maternal look, then whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t worry. I’ve also got a son in his 20s. They’re messy buggers, aren’t they?’

Too astonished and affronted to correct her mistake (Dean is only 10 years younger than me, for goodness sake), I smiled grimly. But I did tell Dean later that it was high time that he started growing some grey hairs.

Left: Me and my friend (not son) Dean, playing silly buggers with a disposable camera and a mirror.

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2 comments:

meggie said...

O crap. I hate moving house.

mberenis said...

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