My parents bought their house, off the drawing board in 1964 for two and a half thousand pounds. We bought our house in St Maggies in 2009 for 100 times more. It seemed like an impossibly sized amount of money we had to borrow. And I won't lie, it scared me. Had we have stayed in the flat, we would have paid for it in a few years, and we could have pleased ourselves. But it wasn't big enough, had no parking.
So we both our houses and pooled our cash to buy our house, knowing that to pay for it we would have to work until we were 65 or beyond. We decided we would.
Even now, after juggling mortgages, we are some seven years from paying it off. Seven more years of working for the man. Paying our bills, the insurance, and doing what we can to make the payments. Its easier now than it was, and we have increased payments to pay it off quicker, but still.
And then there was Mum.
I am, or was, an only child. Her estate was always coming to me, but we never thought there'd be anything left. She would have spent it, or all of it would be used up in long-term care. So, it was never a factor for us.
And then there was Mum.
She passed away, if not unexpectedly, but suddenly, and for a few weeks, months, we just dealt with it and the issues. Bills were paid, stuff done. And then it all went quiet.
Then, on Friday, the solicitor said she was preparing a letter for me, and yesterday it arrived. Details of Mum's estate.
We will not be billionaires. We will not be millionaires. But, in time our mortgage will be paid off. And that means we will work for ourselves, not the man. And then, in black and white, seeing enough money to pay of the mortgage. Though we don't have it yet, and there will be charges. Still, all the money we currently pay the bank will be ours to use.
Mwah ha ha.
Sorry that it took Mum passing, in the way she did for this to happen, but you know, well, it is what it is.
That apart, it was another good day in the house.
Up at dawn, or just before. Sit with Jools while I drink my coffee and she gets ready. Then once she leaves, on the cross trainer for another session, third morning in a row, and much easier now on the next level. Scully was sleeping in the wardrobe as I worked out. Happy with her role in things.
Thing is, having cats is like having children. I went for a shower, only to hear the most awful noise once in. So I go the check, and Mulder wants to come into the bathroom. I let him in, get back in the shower and he meows he wants to go out!
He has to wait.
And then breakfast and then onto work. Preparing for more travel, and fixing the unexpected grenade lobbed over the wall to me by my former boss. Cheers.
And firefighting takes most of the morning, meaning the tasks I planned to do, went undone. Just like old times, really.
I went out in the early morning sunshine to take a few shots, before the cloud and wind was due to sweep across. One of our own daffodils was bobbing in the breeze, brilliant yellow in the sunshine.And then back to work.
I eat at the table whilst working, marmalade and tortilla chip sandwiches. Yeah, you read that right. And were a king among sandwiches.
Morning turned to afternoon, I caught up with the mess, with just one strand outstanding. That would have to wait.
I pack up at four, pack my work bag and case, then prepare dinner: caprese and garlic bread, and as it was International wine drinking day, or something, I thought I had better support the cause.
We dine well once Jools is home, then have a brew with a short cake to make us full, before listening to the radio and discussing the financial news we will have to get used to. Though for a few months, nothing will change.
And that is it. Jools went to bed at nine, as we were to be up at half four in the morning, I stay up to follow the Liverpool score on the radio.
They lost.
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