I’m lying in bed and my heart is beating at a million miles an hour.
I waited up until that special hour. Midnight was payday.
I have spent all the pay I got in Russia on my backlog of loan repayments, of rent and of phone bills. It’s all gone.
But I did a few hours work in August in Dublin, so I was due around €300. It’s not a lot, but it should be enough to make it most of the way through the month.
When I logged onto my online banking, I got a fright. I’d been paid more than I expected: €380.
For any normal person this would be a good surprise. But for me, €380 is a dangerous number. It’s the amount of my monthly loan repayment.
The money hasn’t even made it to my account. The loan has eaten it. All of it.
I have €22.66.
Twenty-two euros, sixty six cents. To last me until the fourth of October. That’s 28 days away.
Can I live on less than six euros a week?
I’m flying to Istanbul on Saturday for a conference. How the hell is that meant to go?
Twenty two euros.
My piggy bank is full of coppers. I might be able to squeeze a tenner from that.
I’ll find a way though. I will.