Today we found that the cheque Spelman had paid us bounced.
What a low life.
The guy came here, wasted another hour in my life with his inane chatter about bog all, which I only tolerated because he was going to finally cough up my husbands wages, then takes his stock back (several thousand pounds worth) then shakes my hand and gives me a kiss on the cheek "no hard feelings".
A week later the cheque has bounced and the bastard has all his stock back. He is supposed to be a millionaire. Money here there and everywhere. I have never clapped eyes on such a down and out millionaire in my life. He drives a poxy L reg car with rust and dents. He wears cheap shiny well worn Farah slacks and plastic shoes and a shirt - no tie. If he is a millionaire, then I am a monkey's fucking uncle.
I never liked the guy from the moment I met him. 10 minutes in his company and you just KNOW that the whole evening is going to governed by him and a waste of at least 5 hours talking about him and his and how great hes got it.
The guy holidays in Ibiza for god's sake. Tragic.
2 Finn Crisp slim crackers with garlic and herb cheese spread. I made myself 3, but couldn't eat the last one. I used to eat a box of these in an afternoon no trouble.
several cups of Coffee
Tonight's dinner is going to be... Roast beef, carrots, roast potato and creamed leeks. Horseradish naturally, but no Yorkshire pud for me... not worth the vomiting.
I will let ya know how much I get through!