Failure.

So, the car failed its MOT. I knew it would. As I pulled out of the driveway to take it for the test, ‘Help!’ came on the radio. And it started raining. I also have a suspicion that y’all weren’t praying hard enough during the vigil, were you now?

In my head, I’d had the figure of £300 floating around in reference to the MOT. This was far from my "worst case scenario" figure, but it was my "pretty freaking BAD" figure nevertheless. The price they quoted me was £240, which you might say was a good thing because it was at least lower than the £300 I had been bracing myself ("Brace! Brace!) for, but which I say is close enough, thanks very much. It was also – and this was pretty freaky – THE EXACT SUM OF MONEY I HAD AVAILABLE TO ME AT THAT TIME. So, basically, what I’m trying to say here is: THEY TOOK ALL OF MY MONEY. All of it. No green dress. No red skirt. No contact lens solution – BLIND! No Boots Refine & Rewind serum, which takes years off my face and I’m not even joking. Oh, and Terry? No birthday present for you, sorry. Terry did manage to "beat them down" to £210, but even so, ALL MY MONEY IS GONE.

So, just to recap: by the end of this month I will be blind, wrinkled, dressed in rags and probably divorced. So that’s good.

Of course, things are not quite as dire as they seem. Terry and I do have savings, which are there for occasions such as this, and some of these funds are to be made available to me now, in my hour of need. Even so, my life is over. And after the man from the garage called and broke the news, I did the only thing I could do: threw myself on the bed, wailing and thrashing around like a mad thing. Then I had to get myself back up again, because the man across the road was washing his car with the radio tuned to "louder than hell" and I don’t need to tell you how crazy THAT makes me.

Oh, and I also have my road tax to pay at the end of this month!This summer? Sucks.

It’s going to be a very, very long month, folks…