I chew the end of my pencil thoughtfully.

Rent.
Bills.
Broadband (God forbid that should be missing!)
TV licence (for the boys, as I never watch TV).
Car insurance, fuel and bills (Ouch! This one will be hefty)
Food shopping.
Contents insurance (why? I shall have nothing worth stealing apart from my laptop, but I could always sleep holding on to it...)
Council tax (so that I can bullied into putting the rubbish out in the appropriate coloured-bins and on the appropriate day; I shall never manage that).
Clothes (I am Italian after all)
Occasional presents/toys (I don't want the boys to think that life is all the worse for my decision to leave).
Contribution towards children's upbringing.
Speeding tickets (see car).

Have I forgotten anything else?

I have been offered an impossibly glamorous job with an impossibly low salary. That figures. And yet, I'd rather be paid peanuts and be in love with what I do than earn a fortune and work in a soul-destroying environment.

However, once I finish my list of outgoings, and have a look at my job offer, I worked out I'll be left with £2.99. Just as well my boys like MacDonald's chicken nuggets...