|Don't forget the classic cunt punt|
Yesterday wasn't a total and utter write off either. I managed to organise my birthday present for my mother. By which I mean I went to a cash machine. She's planning on moving house because she doesn't want to live in the house she shared with my stepdad and where she was when his mind started to go. I can't blame her for wanting to get away from the bad memories. But moving house means spending money. Hopefully the £50 I slipped into her birthday card can help with that. It was what I was originally going to give her before my dad told me she planned on moving anyway.
No one tell her what I got her!
Though seriously, between that, my birthday next week, a weekend trip I'm taking I'll tell you about some other time, a potential day trip, a dentist appointment, and a holiday, I better get used to being poor despite having a job now. Oh and my dad's birthday is in September and the present I have in mind for him is £150.
It's cheaper than the trip to Rome I would liked to have given him, which would be at least £1500 including spending money.
Sheesh. Will I ever have enough money to finally start driving lessons? Probably not, no.