Pricked by a guilty conscience, my father has decided to pay back what he “owed” me in pocket money over the past three years, where I survived solely on my savings and meagre non-existent earnings.
Some greater power must have seen me sobbing piteously into my passbook, losing sleep over my dwindling savings, and kindly sent me a much-needed windfall.
Call this a premature CPF withdrawal, sans interest and adjustments for inflation.
My profound inability to speak proper, fluent English haunts me night and day.
This makes me sound like a pathetic sod, but Confessions of a Middle-Aged Woman by Sue Townsend keeps me sane. I love her.
For the record, I didn’t lose sleep over my (then) embarrassing financial situation.