If it's not one thing it's your mother

While I wait to hear if our offer has been accepted, I call my bank to see if I can get a better mortgage deal than the one we have on the table, which doesn't include my salary because I stupidly mentioned that I was with child.

I am greeted by an alarmingly good-humoured woman with a laugh in her voice and all the time in the world for my questions. Softened up by her easy-going style, I find myself saying, "It doesn't matter that I'm pregnant, does it? You can still use my salary?"

"I'm afraid not. But I'm sure we'll be able to do it on M's salary."

"But I've banked with you for 13 years, PAYE solid as a rock... M's self-employed, patchy, itinerant."

"I'm afraid, Ms Griffiths, that without confirmation of your return-to-work date and salary, we can't really do anything. I just need three years of accounts from M and..."

"So if I get this letter from work - which will be entirely fictional, because no one knows when they're going back - that should cover it?"

"And we'll need a projection of childcare costs. We have to be sure you can cover the repayments while taking on that added overhead."

"OK," I say, and stop myself pointing out that M's habit of buying sheet music is a much more worrying threat to our financial security.

"Do you know what you're doing for childcare?" she asks.

And with my newfound wisdom that this woman just needs answers to tick boxes on a computer screen, I say, "Yes, my mother is coming to live with us. She's going to do it."

"Excellent. Can we get a letter from her?"

"Yup, no bother."