Yep, father drove a Red 240 for pretty much my entire childhood, that and a series 3. Both fucked.

I’d say a bit thing with old money these days is that there is very little money. I remember my folks had to sell some of the antiques off to pay for upkeep to the house. I distinctly remember the auctioneer nearly fainting at what he was looking at. He really wanted to see this old Welsh dresser we had next to the aga. He offered me £100 cash if I convinced my parents to sell it. Which they wouldn’t. Don’t know what it was so special to be honest. They still have the house. Can’t possibly sell it. It will eventually be my problem, which is a pain in the cock. We lived in the kitchen and the lounge, that was it. In the summer we would open all the windows in the various other rooms to air it out.

We never had heating, everything was damp and smelled like dog. I used to love going to my mates house because he had heating and sky telly.

It’s really weird reminiscing about it actually, because it was pretty fucked up. But it was all I knew growing up.

What’s really important is that we never considered our selves above anyone, ever. We owned the local pub as part of the estate. Pretty sure Father let them have it for fuck all rent because of the community. The farmers the same, it was peppercorn rent.

I only really realised how mental it wall was when I left home and then came back for visits.

I live abroad now and work a normal job. Kids growing up like everyone else around here. Wife doing the same sort of thing.

Funny thing is my wife comes from the exact same background. But we only found out about each others pasts when the relationship was pretty well founded. She comes from a similar German family.

What’s really funny is that I live in a very affluent suburb of a city that is obsessed with money, but it’s all new. Range rovers, new defenders, nanny’s etc. We drive a on old mk2 golf with light years Km on the clock… old habits and all that.