Because I didn’t really plan ahead for the cash sink that is London, I had to ask for a loan from my parents today. I’ve been self-funded since the end of my degree, nearly three years now. In that time I haven’t asked for money at all, although I’ve accepted plenty of gifts of clothes and food and such (though they are not the kind of parents who give out lump sum gifts). So asking them was fairly hard and made me feel bad. I at least left it until I was really unable-to-pay-rent-and-bills skint to ask. I rang my Mum, who had her handbag stolen the other day, first. She said she couldn’t afford it but to ring back if my Dad couldn’t either. So I rang my Dad and he said he’d discuss it with his partner. I rang my Mum again to tell her this and she said that she would give me the money after all and that she’d already written the cheque. I thanked her profusely, feeling guilty and a bit overwhelmed. Then I rang my Dad back to tell about this, but he told me that he’d be happy to lend me the money as well, by which point I was in tears. He suggested lending me half and Mum lending half. My Mum has dipped into my little sister’s Uni fund and my Dad will have to borrow more from his loan account to get money to lend me so I feel pretty bad. I probably could have tried to get a job harder or settled for less fantastic employment. Now I’m in debt to everybody and I hate it. I guess it’s just a kick in the pride really, but borrowing more and more doesn’t make me feel good about where my finances are going to be in the future. I need security. In short, I need a full time job. But then I knew that before I even got here.