The secret diary of a single parent bloke
I was in the kitchen, just finishing the washing up, and went to put the tea towel over the radiator, and accidentally knocked the calendar (hanging above it) down the back. I expected it to slide out from underneath the radiator, but it didn’t. I peered behind it- there was something down there.
The next half an hour was like some sort of manual dexterity test- using a combination of sticks, long knives, Blu Tac and many other long thin implements, I managed to prise out dozens of letters that had been wedged there. They were bills. All of them. Dozens!
I had a bit of a panic- I knew nothing about any of them. Many were final demands, but most were all for relatively small amounts, ranging from about £10 upwards. There were final demands, debt collection agency letters, threats of CCJs and repossession threats. Some were from mail-order catalogues, the rest (from agencies) were unspecified. The dates on them ranged from the very recent to about a year old. Why hadn’t she paid them? A few quid here and there- I know she could have afforded it, she was earning a wage and kept the Child Benefit and working tax credits. She’d always been bad with money, but even in the past when she’d needed money I’d always helped out, and god know’s how many times I’d bailed out the joint account.
What was I going to do? I just stood there looking at them.
I phoned my Mom, and then my Dad, and they both calmed me down. All of the bills were in Kat’s name, not mine, and they all seemed to be unsecured against the house. Once I’d calmed down enough, I wrote to every creditor and explained that Kat didn’t live here any more, and gave them a forwarding address.
I hope that will be enough.