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goldendrgn.world
Hi everyone, my name is Bianca, I'm 34 years old. I live in Morecambe, on the northwest coast of England. I've been working as a nurse at the local hospital for 12 years. The last three years have been hell. But more on that later. I live alone. No husband, no kids, not even a cat. Rent for my one-bedroom flat is £750 a month. Plus bills, plus food. My nursing salary is about £2,200 a month after tax. Just enough to survive. I have one weakness — I love afternoon tea. The china cups, the three-tier stand with sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, little cakes. It's my little joy. Once a month I go to a café and pay £25 for this ritual. It's the only thing keeping me sane. But other than that — everything is bad. I've racked up £14,000 in debt over the last two years. Credit card, overdraft, payday loans. The reason? The pandemic burned me out completely. I worked 16-hour days, no days off, no proper food, no sleep. Then came the layoffs, reduced hours, inflation. My electricity bills doubled. I was diagnosed with burnout and anxiety disorder. I take pills to fall asleep. I take pills to wake up. I take pills so I don't cry in the toilet between shifts. I ignore calls from the bank. I'm scared of letters. Every time I get a notification on my phone, my heart jumps. I have a grandmother who raised me. She lives in Preston, about an hour away. She always says to me on the phone: "Bianca, don't break. You're strong. And make sure you drink tea with lemon, remember how we used to drink it?" I remember. I really want to buy myself a nice tea set. Not plastic, not from IKEA. A real one. With a gold rim. Like my grandmother's. It costs £480. I haven't been able to afford it for two years. It sounds stupid — a nurse with debts dreaming about teacups. But it's my only dream. --- Last Saturday, I decided to treat myself. I went to The Midland hotel on Morecambe Promenade. It's expensive — £39 for afternoon tea. But I was feeling terrible, and I
