(no subject)

Well then. I'm having to reshake my finances a little bit and so most of the last week has been spent getting quotes for things and trying to sort out credit cards and so on. Depressing as sin, but hey ho. I'm now saving £31 a month on house insurance and expect to cancel two other policies that I thought was life insurance but Dad tells me is just PPI. He's checking the reams of paperwork that my eyes have given up on. Anyhoo. That along with balance transfer on my credit card and cashing in some shares will take care of my overdraft and make things tidier and more manageable - that and some serious belt tightening. Which = also depressing. I'm very happy having my own place and I know that being squashed by a mortgage is part of that, but it gets disheartening looking at friends who still live with their parents and are at concerts/shows/cinema two or three times a week, in between weekends away and frequent holidays. Still. I'd still pick my own place over not my own place, so this is just a whinge brought on by facing reality and actually opening the damned bank statements instead of pretending they're not there.

In other more cheery news, I had a prison visit Thursday and, after a couple of hours spent with the chap telling me that he hadn't murdered the other chap and me saying that until he launches an appeal which is upheld and his conviction quashed then I would maintain the view that, actually, yes he did, I had to hang around in the office on wing waiting to be escorted out. I was there at changeover time and standing ignored in the corner, got to watch one stern rather fierce looking officer trace the tattoo of another through his shirt. It was a big big tattoo, covering the whole of his back and visible through his shirt. The other guy just stood there tracing it slowly with his fingers while waiting. It distracted me nicely from the shouting and unpleasantness going on on the wing.