Before
heading off to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne to spend a couple of days with
Pearl’s pals
(aka Coven#2) I raided the cash stash.
“How
much have you taken?”
“Hundred
quid.”
“A
hundred quid?!”
(He can sound very Yorkshire at times.)
“Yes”
pertly “I have to pay Pearl for my room and I’ve forgotten how much I owe her.”
When I returned he asked how much I’d spent.
“£35
for the room, £25 for my evening meal on Thursday and a couple of quid on a 99*.”
“Blimey! You don’t often spend that much on a meal for yourself.”
“It
was lamb shank at the Ship Inn and it was gorgeous.”
“So
you’ll be putting some cash back in the stash.”
(I
knew I shouldn’t have set a precedent.)
“No
I won’t. It’s my money.”
“I
think you’ll find it’s mine”
(Again with the grumbly Yorkshire.)
“My
house my money; my electricity bill, my gas bill, my council tax etcetera
etcetera etcetera.”
As my mother used to say “What’s yours is mine, what’s mine’s me own.”
Mind you, if when I’d arrived home he’d come out and helped me get my stuff in rather than:-
open the front door with an “Alreet?”
stand on the doorstep
watching me unload
disappear inside (“to put the kettle on”)
and reappear when
I’d got everything in
I might have felt more inclined to reimburse the stash.
*For those unfamiliar with British treats, a 99 is an ice cream cone with a Cadbury’s Flake pushed in it.
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