THE MAN AND I HAVE BOUGHT A HOUSE!
A PROPER GROWN UP HOUSE WITH MORE THAN ONE BEDROOM!
Actually, I should rephrase. The Man has bought a house; a proper grown up house with more than one bedroom. I, as his pikey girlfriend/hanger-onner, have bought nothing at all. I bought him a pint of ale to say thank you and so far, that’s it. (Christ Jesus! I have to up my game!)
There are no words to describe our excitement. When our offer was accepted I lost the plot completely and did something I’ve never done in my life: I pulled a moonie. I still don’t know why; it just happened. The Man was on the phone to our estate agent, grinning and giving me a thumbs up, and I just sort of exploded across the kitchen and, as I drew level with the microwave, whipped my bottom out. Just like that.
The Man struggled to finish his conversation with any semblance of dignity, (I never had any in the first place) and so when he got off the phone we both just laughed hysterically and screamed a bit and then started whispering things like, ‘Oh my God, Oh my God, WE ARE HOME OWNERS’ and stuff. Then we went to the pub and came home and passed out because we were so gobsmacked.