New for Old

I will never own anything new ever again.

Mum has been on maternity leave from work for 12months and goes back to work in a week. This is daunting and upsetting for us both. I work early mornings so up until now we've had lots of time together in the afternoons to hang out in John Lewis cafe trying to convince everyone we are rich enough to not have to work. I always used to wonder who those people were who could afford to hang out in cafes in the afternoon rather than be at work, turns out they're not lottery winners but skint parents seeking refuge from their brick cell of baby agony. But now, for us, that all ends.

And if you're thinking, well now mum is back at work we can stop trying to convince ourselves that statutory maternity pay is enough and begin to get back on track financially, You are wrong. When deciding to go back to work we had to decide whether to pay for Evie in a nursery or leave her at home with the dog and use the money to buy a small island in the Caribbean. Of course we chose to send Evie to nursery, after all who wants to hang out under a coconut tree in the Caribbean anyway?!

So we've had to buy a second car to get us all to work in the mornings. The budget was what some people would spend on a night out in Swindon. So as you can imagine the choice was bleak. There was the car with a list of failures on the MOT longer than Katie Prices' divorce list. The car being sold by Ali G's dodgy mate "Big Dave" that needed a coat hanger to get it started. And then the car that had a bloody cassette tape player...WTF!!?

The challenge of finding a safe, reliable car that didn't resemble something out of Fawlty Towers made me realise I will never own something new ever again. From now on I'll be scanning Gumtree for sofas that don't have 'too many stains' or a tumble dryer that 'just needs some tlc'. I'll be cleaning up second hand boots from ebay saying 'they'll come up as new after some polish'. Or Christmas shopping for gifts at the Car Boot. I'll never get that new smell, when you peal open the packaging and your nostrils are greeted with the intoxicating aroma of glue and styrofoam. And I'll never have piles of bubble wrap strewn all over my living room calling out to be popped, biten and stamped on.

So next time you take a delivery of your next new appliance, think of me sat at the lights calling out the RAC to come rescue me in my 13year old Ford Focus listening to 2Unlimited on cassette tape.