Coming up to week two of life in the Hove-l. Yesterday I received my first water bill. I imagine quite a few of you know all about water bills, but I haven’t looked at one for 13 years. And I haven’t had to deal with one personally for 30. I looked at the three-figure sum and thought, “Blimey, I’ve only been here a week and a bit and look at that. Water is bloody expensive in Brighton.” I contemplated ringing up Southern Water and asking them what the hell they think they’re playing at, but I looked more closely at the rubric and noticed this is a sum that covers the next six months. I suppose I am going to have to get used to this kind of thing.
As I realise costs that have been hitherto hidden from me – water, gas, electricity, internet, the consequences of my folly – are now besieging me, a general terror descends: not the hideous anxiety of the past couple of months, but the specific fear of not having enough money. I think I could manage if I gave up drinking, but then I would die of boredom. Actually, giving up drinking wouldn’t make any real difference. I have a tax bill I can’t pay, an accountant’s bill that will come close to bankrupting me, and meanwhile I have to keep buying things for the flat if I want to keep the books off the floor and hang the clothes out to dry.
Content from our partners
