I woke up to discover I'd lost 5 grand last month. Didn't even notice much. The whole House Prices Plummet Panic is bizarre, but pales into significance with the chip finally falling out of my Switch card, somewhere on the Northern Line.
While my bank and I begin the predatory mating dance which is "delivering a new card", I find myself temporarily embarrassed financially. I managed for a few days on the last scrapings from my gold card, but that ground to a halt yesterday in Costcutter just before I could lay my hands on some vodka and cherryade ("You were going to mix those?" asked Mr Patel, shaking his head sadly and returning my dead card to me. His look said that perhaps it was for the best. And yes, he really is called Mr Patel. I live on Pigeon Street).
So, until I get my new card and can unlock whatever lurks in my current account, I must survive on what's in my pocket. Which sadly turns out to be four extra strong mints and £2.10.