Happy Days are here again...

Well…I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, blogging from Stratford I mean. We’ve just had another of those awful letters telling us how badly our Endowment Policies (Mortgage) are performing. You know the feeling? A pit opening up in your stomach. A slight dizziness. Desperate and ridiculous 'solutions' (see below) whizzing endlessly through your brain…

1. Pray. 'Hello...GOBF (God's Online Banking Facilities) Mother Teresa speaking...how can we help?'
2. Win The Lottery. Yeah...of course. Why didn't I think of that ages ago?
3. Death of a wealthy relation. 'Drink this Mother. It will help you sleep'.
4. Suicide. 'There's a slight delay on the Upton-Downton Line owing to...'
5. Run away. 'Police are looking for a heavily bearded man wearing a tutu and football boots.'
6. Win The football Pools See Lottery.
7. The Crime of the Century. 'Stick in the air this is a hands up. Nobody groove'

The other thing I felt was a dreadful guilt until I realised that none of this was my fault. Market forces I think they call it. [Although I bet that people in-the-know (I think particularly of the person who sold us the policies in the first place) aren’t suffering].

What to do…what to do?
Looks like, (admittedly this is only about an hour and one massive argument later) that selling up is our only option.
Any suggestions (none of the above 1-7 please) would be welcome.
Are there any eccentric rich people out there?
Anyone want to buy a house in Stratford upon Avon?

Personally I blame Madame Thatcher.

Note: The above 'Jokes' (1-7) are the result of hysteria. The rest is all true.