So Britain’s a trillion pounds in debt.
One. Trillion. Pounds. Now that’s a lot of money.
You have to wonder at what point the treasury’s alarm bells started ringing. I mean, if I go a penny over my overdraft limit the harassment starts, a barrage of letters land on my doormat and my debit card is swallowed by the cash machine.
Today’s news was the latest in a string of doom and gloom stories waiting to greet me when I walk into work. These days my inbox seems to be constantly weighed down with emails delivering various messages painting a picture of a not so bright future.
Recently, there was the collapse of camera giant Kodak. Before that Peacocks, La Senza, Thorntons, and I’m still mourning the loss of Woolworths. Oh beloved pick ‘n’ mix how I miss you.
When the press release lands claiming unemployment has hit an all-time high, I decide to be optimistic, wipe my brow and think “phew, the worst is over” – but no, hang on, according to the next day’s press release that’s peaking in 2013.
Britain’s been in the grips of a “double dip” recession for so long it should surely be an octuplet dip by now (doesn’t quite have the same ring to it), and we’re being ordered to brace ourselves because the worst is yet to come.
Each time I step foot in the city, I’m faced with another set of rusting rollers pulled down over yet another shut down shop, and, despite petrol prices and the cost of living spiralling out of control, I’m facing my fourth pay cut in as many years (although I am thankful I still have a job).
And there have been so many redundancies at work that the once bustling newsroom has become a symbol of today’s newspaper industry – a tired battery farm where a handful of once-enthusiastic journalists sit chained to their desks unable to properly do their job; a graveyard where us hacks go to die.
Hubby’s solution to the problem: “Just avoid the news,” has been ignored (“Easier said than done when you’re a journalist, Dear,” was my answer). Instead we’re using this as another reason for me and Hubby to, as those of you who follow this blog already know, pack our bags and trade in blighted Britain for the country they call Cambodia where all of our stresses will be washed away, only to be replaced by new ones I’m sure, but at least we’ll be distracted by our adventures.