Monday. A text arrives from the Beloved Daughter. Our final bills payment is due this week. Would you be able to transfer me £75? Then it starts again.
Of course, darling, there’s nothing I’d like more. And I’d be distraught if it didn’t ‘start again.’
Tuesday. Another text. Do you fancy going to the play-off finals?
Hang on. Yesterday she needed money to pay bills. Today she has enough to go to Wembley. Or am I’m being stupid? Maybe the text translates as Would you like to take me to the play-off finals?
Not this year, I tactfully reply. You need money: your brother needs money: another year. When it’s Wolves vs. Owls.
Yep, she’s become an Owl. Three years in Sheffield and she’s a Wednesday supporter. [Read more…]