The Concertina File Is the Way To Goodness

I awake to the smell of singed dust. It is slightly too close to the
smell of burning for my liking and I lie there imagining someone has
got a light on somewhere and it is too close to the shade, or too
bright. I wonder if we are all going to go up in flames.

Of course I realise that someone has put the heating on.

It's the first time in months the heating has been on. Obviously all
the radiators are covered in dust and it's this that is giving rise to
the dusty lightbulb effect.

The heating going on is one of those watershed moments in a year and I
feel disproportionately annoyed that someone has done it when I could
have ignored the changing season for a bit longer. I begin to think
uncharitably that the perpetrator will be someone short who has got out
of bed in just a nightie and felt cold in front of children's
unfeasibly early telly.

As soon as I get out of bed I snap the switch on the heating. These
days I wait until everyone has gone to school before I get up. I think
it is Bad Mothering but they have a good routine and work round each
other and if I get up I only interfere with it and usually there is
some kind of tension which is not a good way to start the day.

It's been a hellish week in our house. There has been drama here of
Greek proportions. Treachery and more treachery, secrecy, heroism and
dignity. And for a change it hasn't involved me.

It's quite a thing when your kids enter the arena of emotional trauma.
However much they suffer when they are little with any amount of stuff
it doesn't really match up to this. When you say you would suffer for
them it is true but this week I have been suffering alongside one of
mine and it bloody well hurts.

Yesterday the child in question was seen sitting on a chair in the
living room listening to The Smiths. It was painful to see. And there
is nothing I can do. No amount of reassurance from an adult perspective
would help. He seems to be coping by getting stoned, drinking and
playing pool.

I decide to cope by sorting out all my finances. Last week I opened all
the letters and put them in a big pile out of sight on the kitchen
bookshelf. Now I am earning regular money I think it will be possible
to face up to my debts.

I make 18 phone calls. I explain 18 times in mumbling fashion about new
jobs and bank accounts and cancelled direct debits and hope on the
horizon. All customer services people are very obliging. To my
amazement I am in credit with BT and they halve my monthly payments.
Also my mortgage is in credit even though I have not paid it for four
months. The man at the building society says that a large payment went
in in April. I ask him to confirm this twice. I have no idea what the
large payment was or why it went in but I decide not to ask too many
questions. The man is very patient and goes off to double check twice.
Things are not as bad as I thought.

After all this I feel absurdly pleased with myself. I inform the
boyfriend that I have been Good. In fact I have been so good nobody
could be Gooder. He attempts to impress me with how good he has been
but there is no contest.

Fired up with goodness I proceed to the stationers and buy a concertina
file for all my financial whatnots. From now on I am going to be
organised and I will be able to find payslips, MOT certificates, bills,
paying in books and everything. I am positively glowing. Gone are the
days when letters lay unopened in a big pile for months. The woman in
the stationers looks slightly concerned. I think it is the glint of
missionary zeal in my eye. I decide not to tell her the Concertina File
is the Way to Goodness.

It is pouring with rain and I get soaked but it doesn't deter me.
Happily I find bleach is two for the price of one at Wilko's. Even my
toilet is going to be good. I meet my friend Bill and we talk in the
rain about murderers and houses and partners and how dull this town is.
I tell Bill how good I am. He doesn't look convinced.

On the way home I pass the pub and through the window I glimpse my son
playing pool.

When I get in I pour half a bottle of Wilko bleach down the toilet with
a virtuous flourish. It's a bit chilly in the house. I think I might
put the heating on.