Rang H this morning and asked how much he had to put on the Fender so as not to lose it - "about $100" he said. Having now hocked something at the same place I know what this means - that it's been in hock for nearly three full months and that he hasn't put more than the minimum payment down each month while it's been there.

This makes me angry, but not because he's apparently incapable of budgeting and/or prioritising - knowing what he was earning before, and given that I'm not much good at that stuff either, I can hardly get mad at him for that reason (truthfully, I don't feel any kind of anger or disappointment in that area) - but because he's had the bass for so long (almost his entire musical career) but may now lose it because he didn't say anything to me about it until Tuesday night.

After much long, hard thought I decided I couldn't bring myself to sell the Dutch East Indies banknote collection (and selling only a part of it would greatly devalue both parts). The January 2000 valuation says it's worth $380 - that being pre-GST and such, I don't know whether the current value would work out higher or lower, but I told H this morning I'd raise the hundred "somehow", so $380 would have been overkill... and I would not have been able to forgive myself for selling it, particularly if my father found out. It's not that I'm particularly sentimental about it. It's not that I'm into collecting foreign currency (never have been). It's just that I really dig old stuff and ... and even though I'm not close to my father (and therefore (no longer) suffer if I don't have his ongoing approval) I would really feel like I'd let him down in a serious way if he ever found out that a)�I'd sold the collection without even consulting mum, and b)�that I'd sold it to raise money for H.

So with that option gone I had to seriously look at what I could hock, given that the only thing left which I'd be happy not to see again is my bike, and I didn't feel like riding it up there, and it's a bit too far for me to comfortably walk (in my decrepit overweight condition).

Did a visual stocktake of all my sturrrff. Considered what might be acceptable. Regretted giving away my (mostly unused, since I got an mp3 player for Xmas year-before-last) CD walkman to a charity drive last year, even though I would have been lucky to get $20 for it (not because it was in poor condition, just because they don't give you what something's worth, otherwise there'd be no profit in it for them).

Went round the house twice. Peered hopefully into cupboards and boxes. Sighed a lot.

Decided it would be my SLR (worth about $1k) and my camcorder (was $400 five years ago). Recharged the camcorder battery (coz I haven't used it since the family Christmas party last year) and gave the SLR a thorough clean with a cotton bud (I keep it in the cupboard but it still collects dust around the edges of the external moving parts). Hoped that with that kind of collateral they'd give me $250-$300, so I'd have some leeway (being fairly sure H would need some extra before the loan comes through).

Got there only to find they wouldn't take the camcorder without the charger (which I'd left on the kitchen counter) and they wouldn't take the SLR because it needs a little gaff tape to keep it together (it's gone to a lot of gigs, see).

Produced the original receipts, showing that the camera body cost me $979.95 ten years ago and the lens it was wearing was $319 in early 99. Still no go.

Fortunately I didn't break down and cry.

Strangely I didn't even feel like crying. I guess that's because it's not my Fender that's at stake. If it was something of mine that I would hate to lose, and I had trouble raising money to save it, I think I would have cried.

So ultimately, ultimately it's not my problem. Ultimately it's not my problem, it's H's problem, but I volunteered to make it not quite so much of a problem by raising the cash he needs to keep it from going to auction, so I wasn't giving up straight away.

I was actually about to ask if they would accept a banknote collection with a 1999 valuation (though it would mean going home and coming out again) when I remembered I had a PDA in my bag which I hardly use, but of course they wouldn't take that without the charger/cradle and software, manual and original goddam box... which I'm pretty sure went into the recycling about 18 months ago (the box, not the manual, haha).

They were not getting my digital camera (because I feel naked without it, and anyway, they'd have wanted the software etc etc etc for that, too).

And the only other thing of value I had on my person was my watch.

I don't want to go into the exact details, but it's a valuable watch. It was a 25th birthday present from my father's side of the family. It's an antique. I had absolutely no intention of parting with it, ever. I feel safe wearing it out and about because it's so old (and slightly beat-up) it looks like a crappy cheap costume jewellery watch from the 80s. It doesn't look like a good watch. It looks like junk. It doesn't look like something you'd bother to mug someone for. Truly.

"What about a genuine [insert maker's name here] watch?" I said brightly, pulling it off my wrist and holding it up for inspection.

"Do you know how much a working [maker's name] watch is worth?" the guy stammered, boggling at me.

"I know what it was worth just before it was given to me a few years back," I said.

I was pleased that he was aware of its worth (derived from age, heritage and country-of-origin). That made it a snap to get him to agree to take it. Still, I only asked for a hundred. That makes its retrieval eminently affordable (in terms of what I can afford just in case the loan doesn't get "final approval"). I would DIE if I couldn't get it back - not even out of shame (if the family found out, and they surely would, the first time Alice or my mum saw me without it, because I always wear it), although I would be extremely ashamed. But I adore this watch. It's the most reliable watch I've ever owned, and, in its own way, beautiful (well, it's got character, okay). And I love old stuff. Gimme an old wind-up watch any day. Not that I don't like digital watches, but I prefer analog. That's all there is to it.

So. Showed ID, signed on the dotted lines, took the money and the receipt/ticket thingy. Even got the guy to agree to wind it each day (though I think that was only because he was totally in awe of the thing, and possibly of me - he did say he thought I was crazy to actually wear it).

Walked out feeling sick and shaky, even though I have every intention of getting it back, no matter what, in 2 weeks' time. Even if the loan doesn't go through. Even if getting it back means I have to live off rolled oats and water for the fortnight after that. Even if getting it back means I have to give up smoking.

No matter what, I am getting it back in 2 weeks.

Or else I will DIE. :(

Walked down the street a little way til I found a bench. Needed to compose myself. I felt so shaky, as if I'd committed a serious crime (assault, armed hold-up, arson, something like that). Felt cold and weak. Felt miserable. Experienced a brief flash of anger towards H (and the little voice in my head said, if, after going through this, it turns out he's screwing around on you, HURT him).

Rang H and left a voicemail saying I'd raised $100 and for him to call me to arrange collection.

Had a cigarette and watched my hands shaking. Hoped nobody was going to ask me if I was holding/knew where they could score (this has happened to me so many times - usually when I've just come out of the doctor's after a pap smear or other semi-invasive procedure, a druggie takes one look at me and decides I look so sick/fucked-up I must be "on something really good", and asks me if I know where they can get some "you know, stuff". Which is kinda funny, I suppose, except that I have no drug contacts whatsoever).

Oh, don't look at me like that. ;) The person mentioned here doesn't count because I'm not supposed to know about that.

Gave $5 to a guy collecting for charity. Somehow this made me feel a little better.

Went to the health food shop and bought $1.50 worth of poppyseeds and a strawberry muffin.

Went to the bistro and carried out my promise to myself - a huge salad and a schooie of dark ale. (You know, as in having a treat. Quality of life, all that.)

Read my book. Ate my complimentary roll. Took my vitamins. Finished off with a schooie of OJ (because it's cheaper than beer and I love oranges).

Got home about 10 minutes ago (well, 3.15; it's actually taken me about 45 minutes to type all this). Nothing from C3ntr3link. Bastards.