Dear Bank Manager

My bank statement arrived again yesterday.  His Nibs thought it was for the joint account and opened it.  Thanks for that.  I thought he was going to have a fit.  Apparently the level the overdraft has reached gave him an awful fright.

I, however, was well aware of what was coming.  If only I’d got in the door first.  I’m normally like quicksilver, getting the letter out of the letterbox and into a handbag that’s currently not being used, before he even thinks to ask if there’s any post.

Is there no chance of getting my statements emailed to a top secret address?  I don’t share my passwords with him.  The letterbox, however, is a completely different matter.

He seemed fascinated.  It turns out that when he was doing all the giving out about my buying handbags he thought they were cheap ones.  And he still thought I was wasting money.  When he saw the transactions with that particular shop, I thought he was going to faint.

And he was quite shouty about the shoes and the books as well.  I don’t know what he expects.  Surely I have a right to have something to put onto my feet, and to stimulate my brain?  When I put this to him, though, his sympathy wasn’t aroused.  He just yelped something about not being a centipede, and that if I never bought shoes again I’d still have enough to put on my feet for life.

I tried to use the Tesco transactions to calm him down, pointing out that I’m an excellent wife, and how well I look after him, and what have you.  But he, rather sourly, I thought, just told me that if the statement was restricted to good wife purchases, we’d be rolling in it, and not to change the subject.

I think it’s time you helped me out.  I’ve been a customer for years, after all.  I admit, there’s only one week in the month that I’m not in overdraft, but sure aren’t you making money on the interest?

And it’s not as if you have to chase me for any other money.  I don’t owe a penny on the credit card.  In fact, I think you’ll find you owe me 68 cent.  Fair enough, this good behaviour is seriously influenced by the fact that His Nibs and I share a credit card.  I know he gives out to me, but I’m not trying  to kill the poor soul altogether.  He can’t bear debt, you see, and a scary credit card bill might finish him off.

I’m not asking for any special favours.  I genuinely have tried to sort myself out.  In a number of ways.

First of all, I tried taking out a set amount of cash every week, and living on that amount only.

 The idea was that there would be money left over at the end of the month.  No more overdraft, and although I told myself that I’d save the leftover money, I was already thinking of little treats I could get myself as a reward for my frugal ways.

It didn’t work.  What happened was that I started drawing out the money on a Monday.  The little pile of cash in my purse would make me feel flush and I’d lose the run of myself for the day.  By Tuesday morning, about seventy five per cent of the weekly allowance was usually gone.  By Saturday, after three days of beans on toast for dinner and looking around the shops longingly, my purse would be dusty from lack of use, so I’d get next weeks money out immediately.  How can you get through a weekend without money?  In fairness?

Or I’d tell myself I was only spending a little over my cash budget and paying the hairdresser and what have you on my debit card.  So effectively I was spending the weekly allowance both in cash and on the card.

So that didn’t last.

Then I decided that the best way to stop worrying about money was to simply stop checking my bank balance, and to tell myself that the amount I was spending couldn’t be more than the amount in my account. 

You’d be surprised how fast a month’s wages can go when you’re not thinking about it, as it happens.  I think the problem might have been that every time I went to buy something I blanked out all the other treats I’d had.

So that didn’t go well either.  As you can imagine, pay day provided a very nasty surprise that month.

And they say ignorance is bliss?

Anyway, as you can now see, I’ve done my best.  I’ve tried, and failed, to sort the problem out without your assistance.

I really think the time has come for you to step in.  In the spirit of our nation, kindly provide me with a bailout.  A one off payment, just to clear my overdraft, and I promise I won’t give you any further trouble.

I don’t want to point out the alternative, but if you force me, I’ll go so nuts with the overdraft, that you can forget about me ever paying it off again.