The money was mounting up very quickly and we were happy in our own minds that soon we would have sufficient to clear our mortgage. That would be great.
After that we would both cease working. No point working when you owned your own home.
Life was going to be great from now on. No more money worries.
We scoured the internet for little-known insults, and these we added to our repertoire.
The weekends our son came home from college were definitely a drain on our cash.
I reckoned it cost us about a thousand pounds each time he came home.
Of course we never told him about the vase, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment at not being lovingly greeted by us.
We just couldn’t afford it.
Happiness had no place in our lives any more. It was insults and nothing more.
The culmination to our strange situation came about that very weekend.
Nick had met a couple of friends in town, and to cut a long story short, he’d gotten blind drunk.
He came home very late, and we had gone to bed thinking that he had probably met up with some girl and was spending the night with her.
He crept in very quietly and not wanting to rouse us, he had not turned on the lights.
In his quest to be quiet he tripped against the carpet and fell against the table.
The vase went crashing to the floor and broke into a thousand pieces.
We came rushing down the stairs to find Nick lying sheepishly on the carpet, and my wife screamed when she saw the broken vase.
As we looked around the room it appeared pretty bare.
All of the new items that we had recently bought had disappeared.
We knew exactly what had happened and my wife sat on the sofa and wept.
Nick by this time was gently snoring on the carpet.
We spent a sleepless night, and the next morning the postman, still not talking to us, dropped a letter from the bank through the letter box.
The bank was enquiring as to why the mortgage had not been paid for several months, and pointing out that our account was deeply overdrawn.
Would I please call in to see the manager at my earliest convenience.