Two identical letters arrived this morning. One was addressed to Husband; the other to the man who lived here before us, twenty years ago, who incidentally is now dead.
It was an invitation to an inheritance tax seminar. Huh! Like there's going to be anything left for the children to inherit. We've already told them we plan on spending it. (It being all £256 or thereabouts that we're likely to have by the time we pop off.)
However the seminar is in a posh hotel on Gower - no-one we know, not even my uncle who eats out all the time, goes there it's so expensive - and a free lunch is included. Hmm, the deceased ex-occupier of our house was a doctor; no reason why I couldn't be Dr Jones is there? Then Husband and I could have a nice lunch together. Which could be rudely interrupted if someone was taken ill and the cry went up, 'Is there a doctor in the house?' And my tendency to faint at the sight of blood could be a bit of a giveaway.
Ah well, into the recycling bag with it.
3 comments:
I think it would be a far better idea to stay home and eat that cake, Liz.
Like you we aren't going to have much to leave either. Divide by 5 and it pretty much comes to zero so we will do our best to spend it and with a new roof and new heating system this year that pretty much covers it. The cake looks yummy, I thought all cakes sort of lurched mine usually do.
Comes to summat when a dead man gets better invites than you huh?
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