Tracker funds. Fixed interest. Index linked. Percentages. Projections. Advantages. Disadvantages. Options.
I've been, not for the first time, confronted by my own idiocy when it comes to financial arrangements. I met the nice man today because, well, should the next thirty years happen past in a blur the size of my life to this point, I'm fucked.
He was thorough and helpful and generous with his time. I was nodding and commenting and thinking about lunch for the full two hours.
I left the building with a convulsing gut and a throbbing head. I went this way and then that way, passing back by the building's exit three times before finally my bearings were got and the one word prevailed.
That word? Lasagne.
I stuffed away the envelope still stuck to my hand and went in search of some grub.
It will, in all likelihood, remain untorn for at least a month.