Well, it seems that fairly soon this unplanned vacation must end. I've been out of work now for almost two months, and it was everything I dreamed it would be. Every night I Sky Plus a couple of episodes of CSI, an episode of Joey, Jon Stewart and maybe King of Queens, and then drag myself from my bed at the crack of midday to slouch in front of the TV for a few hours. I'll squeeze in an hour or two of job hunting on the Internet and then sit back to a nice meal and a few more hours of TV. OK, so maybe it isn't the most productive use of my time but Jesus Christ it's relaxing.
Unfortunately, though, even the most enjoyable things become tiresome eventually, and the bills won't pay themselves. I have something like £350 to tide me over until I find some sort of income, and that won't last forever. I went to the pub on Tuesday and blew £20, so I've punished myself since then and made £1.09 stretch for three days. That's easier than it sounds when you don't leave the house and you only allow yourself two cigarettes a day.
The reason I can live so cheaply, of course, is that most of my basic needs are provided by my saintly parents who have yet to toss me out onto the street. I overcome the embarassment of living with my parents at the age of 24 with the fact that my older brother is still here at 26. I was thinking, though, that unemployment wouldn't be nearly as comfortable was I living on my own. See, my unemployment benefits come to only £44.50 a week. You'd be hard pushed to find any sort of accomodation better than, say, a bedsit above a crack den for less than £40 a week - leaving just £4.50 to pay for such necessities as heat, light and food. That's 64p, which would buy you maybe two tins of soup. It wouldn't, however, pay for the gas required to heat it up.
So, I count my lucky stars that I live here. But for the grace of parents I'd be sitting above a crack den drinking cold minnestrone from the can.
Or, at least, I would if I could afford a tin opener.
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