Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
game-time1uk.icu
Hi everyone, my name is Liam. I'm 32. I live alone in Morecambe, in a small flat on the promenade. I've been divorced for two years. My ex-wife lives in Preston with our son. Theo is 7. I only see him on weekends. And those two days are the only reason I keep going. I work in delivery — supermarkets, food, whatever needs to be driven. Ten-hour shifts behind the wheel. They pay me £11 an hour. Not rich, but it was enough. My mum helps. She's also in Preston. Sometimes she takes Theo from my ex and spends time with him. She says: "You work, I'll look after him." I'm very grateful to her. --- The problem started last year. The company I worked for cut my hours. From 40 to 25 a week. My salary dropped by £600 a month. I tried to find a second job — no luck. There's not much work in Morecambe. I started taking payday loans. To pay rent, child support, food. The debt grew. Now I owe £9,000. Credit card, two payday loans, overdraft. The bank doesn't threaten me. But they call often. They ask: "When can you pay off your debt?" I say: "I don't know." That's the honest answer. I stopped buying new clothes. Stopped going to the pub. I eat twice a day. But every weekend I take Theo to the park or the promenade. I buy him ice cream, even if I end up eating bread and water afterwards. My mum sometimes slips me £50-100. I always say: "Mum, don't, I'll manage." She sighs and puts the money in my jacket pocket. I find it later and feel like a failure. --- Last Friday, I picked Theo up from my ex. Put him in the car. He said: "Dad, I've got new trainers. Mum bought them." I looked — cheap ones, but he was happy. I said: "They look nice, son." And my heart broke. On Saturday morning, my mum took Theo so I could get some work done. I was alone. Sat in the kitchen, staring at the wall. Thinking: how much longer can this go on? Then I put on my jacket and walked to the promenade. I went into a pub. The Old Ship. It was almost empty — the tourist season hadn't started yet. O
