This week for the second time in her life my daughter left home… properly. This time she’s 28! Now I know that this is not exceptional these days but it bloody well should be. I’m fairly sure that if I had not been able to leave my parent’s home by 18 I would have been sleeping rough by 18 and a week. It’s not that we haven’t enjoyed Meg being with us, it has been a delight and an unexpected bonus, as I had thought that I would never live with my daughter again; desperately hoping that I drop dead at a ripe old age, all faculties and organs working reasonably well at the time of expiration and not end up in a situation wherein she is looking after a demented (in every way) old git. This I will try to avoid at all costs. Brexit or not.
However there needs to be a radical rethink in what this country offers its young to live in. I’ve done my time in squats and damp rooms but the world is truly screwed if a young woman with no dependents and in a good full time job cannot even afford to rent her own one bedroom flat, let alone buy one FFS.
So what do we do I hear you cry? I don’t honestly know because presently too many people and corporations have vested financial interests in keeping rents high and house prices high without there being any co-ordinated social or affordable housing strategy for those in the gig economy or under the age of 35, or on any wage below £50K – perhaps it’s because the people deciding on those policies are the people mentioned at the start of this sentence. I wish I knew. All I know is that I’m heading to the polls in a couple of weeks to make sure that the cadaverous offender Bone is not replaced by his girlfriend! The world is mad.
This week I have mainly been listening to Swimming Bell and Wand and the radio show was a hoot involving Margo Cilker, Robert Vincent, Mavis Staples, Jesse Sykes, William Shatner and many more. Oh, and Brown Horse were immense. Go see if you can.
As ever take what you want or need.
