So this is a story about loss. It's the first thing that came into my mind. Erm. When I was seventeen my grandfather died um he was my Dad's father and his name was Harold. But everyone called him H for short because. He. Couldn't be bothered for them to say the rest of his name. And um he used to be a taxi driver, he was very charismatic. He used to tell a lot of lies but they were kind of funny white lies like he used to say, he had a finger that was. um. Black I don't know why how he got it but he used to lie about this, the reason why he had that, the black finger. Um anyway so he. Died quite quite suddenly when I was seventeen and I didn't get a chance to see him before he died. Um but prior to his death every week he would save up a pounds worth of pocket money for me. Uhm and he. Would then give it to me in kind of a lump sum when I'd see him. um and the last instalment that he's saved for me, my grandmother gave to me after he'd died uhm and I remember thinking that I should spend it on something wisely but. At the time um a friend had invited me um to like a foam party at this shit nightclub in Bournemouth. Um. And. I had the ten pounds in my purse so. In the end like the ten pounds went on entrance to this horrible foam party and kind of erm like basically I don't know drinking Bacardi Breezers or whatever it was I was drinking at the time. And erm I think like. It was a pretty good night overall like. Ok I hadn't really thought about it up until now but. I think something that I'll always regret was not spending that ten pounds even though obviously I'd still have the ten pounds that he gave me it's just a piece of paper but not spending that piece of paper on something more significant. And that's what came to my mind.