i hate to talk about money, but...

At the moment, my bank account contains a sizeable amount of dinero that was presented to me today by the Inland Revenue. Unfortunately, I can't actually get to it until my cheque clears a week today.

Currently, my wallet contains another tasty chunk of dinero, consisting of my last ever paycheck and a birthday present from my ma. Unfortunately, it's all in Euros.

As I type this, another part of my worldly wealth, what I'm owed for overtime I did two months ago, is floating within the coffers of Tesco PLC as Jonah floated within the whale. Unfortunately, Tesco aren't very fond of regurgitating things onto the proverbial beach of my finances.

Right now there is a Natwest chequebook on the desk in front of me. It's mine. All of the slips have my name on them. Unfortunately, I don't have a guarantee card yet.

What does this mean? It means that I'm counting ten pence pieces into little piles to see if I can afford to go out tonight because ALL THE MONEY I COULD EVER WANT IS MINE BUT I JUST CAN'T GET TO IT.

AARRGH!!!