A friend of mine, Jane Carter, once found herself in hospital, stricken with an illness which is all too familiar these days. It was a harsh bout, both her lungs were affected, and the doctors were deeply concerned for her. During her stay, her employer rather unceremoniously let her go. When, at long last, she returned home, no one pressed her to rush back into the workforce. Times in the country were tough, people were holding onto their jobs with white knuckles, and finding good employment seemed nigh impossible. How could one expect Jane to take up a position standing at a till in a supermarket, when her health clearly wouldnt allow it? Quietly, she began searching for a role related to her profession, all the while curled up in the comfort of her little home.
While she recovered, Jane decided, with all that time at her disposal, to do a thorough cleaning. She started sorting through the jumbled papers near her old desktop computer, and stumbled upon a notebook. It puzzled her, as she was certain shed never kept it there before. Who knew what secrets it might hold, perhaps forgotten phone numbers or love letters from past admirers? Yet, when she opened it, out spilled a small stack of receipts. Each page was filled in her husbands neat handwriting, cataloguing every purchase made for her benefit face cream, vitamin D, a couple of injections here and there.
Janes hands began to tremble. It dawned on her that every single item her husband bought for her during her illness had been painstakingly recorded, added up alongside other expenses. Every so often, the tallies were summed up, and to her astonishment, Jane discovered that according to this ledger, she owed nearly £90,000 at that moment. All of her medical costs, even bits of shopping, were meticulously logged in his book.
I was astounded by Janes composure. She didnt immediately ring her husband or fly into a rage, nor did she contemplate spiking his Sunday roast. She simply waited, calm as you like, for him to come home from work. She served up his tea, listened to all about his day, and only afterwards did she broach the subject, polite and measured in her words.
Her husband, David, replied rather matter-of-factly, Well, whats wrong with keeping track like this? Back before we joined our finances, its what we did, wasnt it? Now Ive put in more, but once youre back at work, youll just put in extra until its all squared away. And with what Ive saved, I reckon Ill even be able to get myself a new laptop the old one cant play the latest games anymore.
Such were the stories of those days, when hardship and oddities went hand in hand, and people managed, each in their own peculiar fashion.
