My Mum works from home.

There is a faint odour of moral dilemma hanging over Chateau Lands End. It could possibly also be from the dead rat the small child was patting on the back veranda last week. It's guts was half out and there were numerous flying insects all over it but that did not deter the petting. My cry of " oh my god, are you retarded?" where met with a horrified gasp and much glaring from the father. Chill out Dude. Clearly I don't think she's really retarded or else I wouldn't say it. Because that would be bad parenting.



Anyhow I'm pretty sure that the stench is from my new job. It's all very unsavory. Last week I was informed by a shifty looking gentleman who appeared at my front door in a grey coverall (when I opened the door I was so excited, for a brief second I thought the little man from the village had finally arrived) that the roundabout outside my house was an accident bonanza and said gentleman would very much like me to ring him and his tow truck any time there is a crash. Before I ring the ambulance. And he would pay me. Fifty bucks for every call.

I smiled. I took his card. I even said sure thing.

Oh my God, how retarded am I?

Now I am waiting in horror for the first crash. I really want to be the person who runs down and pulls the driver from the burning wreckage while calling 000 with excellent diction and a charming demeanor but I have a sneaking suspicion I will be the person ringing Joe the shifty tow truck driver while searching Ebay for $50 Jimmy Choo knock offs.