My mum raised me on £50 a week at most, I spend more than that on food a week, let alone any of the other essentials.
Sometimes I get this kind of impotent rage, that I should boil in my gut and write out exactly how life was like and how it’s completely unfair to those still trapped in that life who weren’t lucky enough to adore computers.
In some ways it’s worse for them now than it was for my mum… that’s unimaginable honestly, there were times we chose between electricity and food…
But all my baying on a personal blog is going to do nothing. Another sob story in a sea of thousands, and deafening silence from the “haves” of our society- unwilling or unable to relate to another human being in torrid inescapable misery.
And they wonder why poverty and alcohol abuse are linked.