**Diary Entry – 12th October**
Bloody hell, listen to an old man’s tale, will you? They say retirement homes are quiet places, but all that silence does is remind me of the noise life used to make. And you know what sticks with me most? Not the holidays, not the gifts—it’s the sheer foolishness that tears families apart.
Once knew a couple—Margaret and her son, Daniel. Lived peacefully till he dragged home some young thing named Gemma. Pretty as a picture, done up like a Mayfair socialite, nails sharp as knives—but useless as a chocolate teapot when it came to work or housekeeping.
Margaret took one look and muttered to me, “That one’s trouble.”
And she wasn’t wrong. The first time Gemma “washed” dishes, she just smeared the grease around. Then had the cheek to say, “I’m not getting my hands dirty, it’s beneath me.”
Margaret shot back, “This isn’t a hotel. Clean up or clear out!”
Gemma just shrugged. I thought, *This won’t last.* But Daniel dug his heels in. “I love her! We’re getting married!”
Margaret tried talking sense into him—no use. Two months later, they tied the knot. A week after that, she handed over the keys to their flat.
Didn’t take long for the truth to show. Margaret dropped by one day and—Christ alive—the place was a pigsty. Dust thick enough to write in, dishes piled high, clothes strewn about. And Gemma? Instead of lifting a finger, she was painting her nails, saying, “I’m *finding myself.* Work will come when it’s meant to.”
Margaret scoffed, “It’s not work that’ll find you—it’s the bank, when they come for your husband’s debts!”
Daniel had already taken out two loans. Now a third—for *her* whims. Then Gemma decided she needed a car.
“What for?” Margaret asked.
“To drive to interviews! People respect you more if you’ve got a proper car,” Gemma sniffed.
Back and forth they went till Margaret wiped the dust off the fridge and said, “I know my son. You won’t last here.”
Gemma snapped, “He loves me!”
But Margaret had made up her mind—not a penny more for their mess. And she was right. A month later, Daniel came begging—not for the car, but for *her* to take out a loan.
“For us, Mum! I’ll pay it back!”
She shut him down. “I know who that car’s really for. Not on my watch.”
He left sulking, told Gemma no car. She *screamed* like the world had ended.
That’s when Daniel finally snapped. Packed her things, chucked her out, and filed for divorce.
So there you have it—think it’s love forever, and then poof! Gone like smoke in the wind. Because love isn’t a manicure. Without work and respect, it cracks quick enough.
Want to hear what happened next? Now *that’s* a lesson worth learning…
