I’ve always been fascinated by different people’s attitudes towards money and often find myself questioning my own approach to the filthy lucre. Some might say I’m too fixated with trying to save every penny; a charge I can’t deny. I consider it an extravagance to spend more than a penny on a teabag for instance (I could do better and get 80 teabags for 27p at the supermarket, but Adrian won’t let me so I have to shell out a pound on a packet of 100 Typhoo teabags). More than a pound on 6 free-range eggs won’t be countenanced and neither will over a pound for a four-pinter of milk. I’ll spend ten minutes queuing in Poundland to not go over-budget on any of these.
This tight controlling of the purse-strings is a habit borne of past necessity, having been poor as a child and young adult, but now that I don’t have to be careful, why do I keep it up? Adrian says:
‘Go on! Treat yourself! You know you can spend whatever you like.’
And sometimes I think I should buy that £100 (and the rest) dress or £70 jumper from John Lewis. But all I can think is:
‘There’s no way in my whole life I’ll spend that!’ (I will splash out on the coffee and scones there though).
If people could see into my head (pity them) they’d think:
‘God. Stop obsessing about every penny. Get a life. Chill out.’
This up-tight attitude towards money has a knock-on effect in other areas of my life, meaning for example that I have difficulty in ‘having fun.’ I’m just not the type. Even as a child I didn’t play games, except for the solitary type; two balls against the wall at the side of the house. I even remember at maybe four years of age having a few dolls and teddies and having no idea what I was supposed to do with them. And now as an adult I am an observer in life. I hold the bags and mobiles while everyone else gets on the boat on the lake, I take the kids to the cinema and later pick them up, without seeing a film myself. It’s an archetypal female passivity.
And while I’m watching, not doing, I wonder: ‘What are other women my age doing with their lives?’ Are they out having girly nights in wine bars (or did they disappear in the ‘80s which was around the last time I regularly went out after 7pm)? Or are they all off at some Zumba class having a real laugh? Or at spa breaks in swanky hotels? Or, with regard to my more earthy former friends, down the club getting pissed and getting a sh*g? Is life passing me by? If I ventured out after dark would I experience life more fully? Shouldn’t I be squeezing every ounce out of it?
When we have a business success or an unexpected wind-fall, do we crack open the champagne? No we don’t. Because we have no idea how to celebrate. What is celebrating? What are parties? What are holidays? They’re social constructs and I can’t put on an act and pretend they make me happy.
‘Let’s go to Wetherspoons!’ Adrian will declare or, ‘Let’s have fish and chips for tea!’ That’s about the level we take it to. And I’ll even warm up a tin of mushy peas (14p from the supermarket), rather than pay the 90p or so for a carton of it from the chippy. I think I belong to a different era. I’d re-use the teabags if Adrian allowed me to.
Of course, when we have to fit in with ‘normal’ society and for instance go out to a restaurant with friends, we can’t avoid excessive expenditure. It’s enough to bring on a panic attack. Sorry, but I don’t derive pleasure out of spending £80 for two little plates of food and two bigger plates of food and one or two drinks (our friends don’t bat an eyelid at a bill of £160 for four people).
One middle class friend, with a different attitude to mine, once asserted her aim to spend all of her and her husband’s not-inconsiderable income by the end of every month.
‘It makes sense to spend everything,’ she said. ‘Because when we retire, although we’ll be on less money with our pensions, we’ll have no mortgage so our outgoings will be down and we’ll be able to live just as well as we do now.’ It seems like most people spend every penny every month, even if they’re earning a fortune.
I JUST CAN’T DO IT.
(And I also can’t see the virtue or sense in it.)
So I didn’t have the big wedding (would have hated it), have never been on a cruise (the holiday-choice for lazy gluttons) and haven’t done the posh railway journey or gastronomic tour of Italy even though Adrian often hankers after these (‘You know you couldn’t actually bring yourself to spend that money,’ I say). Instead, the money stays in the bank, I take time most days to go into different shops to get the best deals, and many of my clothes are from charity shops. I think I know why. It’s:
BECAUSE SPENDING MONEY DOES NOT MAKE ME HAPPY!
Does it have that effect on everyone else?