In the words of the great philosopher Keating, "Life is a rollercoaster". It makes you sick, costs you a fortune, and is over far too soon. But having spent yesterday on the edge of both a nervous breakdown and a financial crisis, I've decided to regroup, gather my thoughts, and step forward into a new age of positivity. The new baby might have to play with a cardboard box, but we're not living in one yet, and if necessary, Lisa can go on the game.

The game being bingo. Let's face it, the last time we went, she won a hundred pounds, so I need to send her there weekly.

But in the meantime, desperate times call for desperate measures, so I've drawn up a two-pronged plan of attack...


They don't call me Moneybags for nothing. I've got a whole stack of them on the right. And on the left are my life savings. I've been putting spare change into that jar for about four years now, so I think the time has come to empty it. I'd originally planned to wait until it's full, but despite Amelie helping me out by adding two plastic hamsters and a football, I think this is as close as I can get before the bailiffs arrive.

Lisa's volunteered her services as cashier, on the grounds that "I like mindless tasks" (she plays a lot of Farmville), so we should have it all counted within a day or two. I've no idea how much is in there, but judging by the weight of the jar, it should be worth something as scrap metal alone.

As for the subject of all this financial pressure, the good news is that Chloe seems to have improved slightly. I'm giving her an antibiotic called Nisamox, and a kidney tablet called Fortekor, plus some ridiculously expensive food for cats with renal problems, and having combined it all with a lot of stroking and patience, she appears to be responding. She hasn't quite got the energy of a kitten, but she doesn't look to be at death's door either.

She's supposed to go back to the vet on Thursday, which is already a worry as I've studied my £400 bill, and they seem to charge more than thirty quid just to say hello. The kidney tablets are about £9 a week too. And I could do without another £75 blood test. But we'll see what happens. I'm already praying there's more silver than copper in that jar.

In the meantime, there's one other thing we need to start counting. Two, if you include calories. We might have a poorly cat and no money, but we really should count our blessings. We've spent two and a half years trying for another baby, and whatever financial and emotional hiccups life throws at us, there's no getting away from one fact: we've finally got what we wanted.

And it should be delivered six months from today.