Dial me up Scotty

Two months later, she’s got a landline and is back online. It’s not broadband but some prepaid dialup thing that N found at Brunswick Smokeland. But, hot damn, it feels good!

It surprised me how much I missed have an internet connection. There are lots of things our house doesn’t have: a television, a telephone, a microwave, a vacuum cleaner, a mop, an iron, a couch, enough cutlery to invite more than two people round without resorting to camping gear, any socks that match. But it’s the lack of internet that made me tetchy. My mum told me that when you declare yourself bankrupt and they come and take all your stuff away, they will leave your television because its considered a necessity.

If/when I’m declared bankrupt, I’m going to see if I can cut a deal where they get the TV and I get to keep the following:

1. internet capacity and the laptop
2.  Irish Breakfast teabags
3.  the cat
4.  chutney
5.  the piano
6.  condoms
7.  my red boots
8.  my new red frypan
9.  the corkscrew
10.  Nigella
11.  at least two types of cheese
12.  green apples (and peaches if I can time my bankruptcy with the stonefruit season)
13.  my grey trackies, my red bra from France, my “Your Playstation or Mine” t-shirt and my moccasins
14.  natural yoghurt (not low-fat)
15. pumpkin
16. marmalade
17. butter
    
18.  hair straightener (I may be bankrupt but I will NOT be curly)
19. frozen peas
20. raisin toast
    

In return, they can have

1.  the TV, the mop and the iron
   
2.  my Property and Equity casebooks. They are smugly sitting at the corner of the desk watching me type this, staring with their guilt-inducing Post-It eyes. If only they knew their destiny . . .
3.  all the furniture and broken electrics that N has salvaged from hard rubbish
4.  the pile of dried beans, odourless spices, popping corn and instant felafel mix that has permanent residency at the back of the cupboard
5.  “Vegan Cooking for One”, “100 Great Salad Dressings” and “The Bean Book”
6.  all the unmatching socks.

Lucky old bank.