Day 53: Can’t afford a relationship?

Have you ever thought that a lack of money could be problematic in a relationship? Obviously if you’ve been seeing each other for a while, you probably know and accept one another’s financial situation. But what about when you first meet? Would you be embarrassed to tell a potential partner that you’re skint? Might you even pretend not to be, for a bit, just to make life a bit easier?

I guess finding a cheap venue for a date is easier in the summer; you can hang out in the park, go for a walk. All for the price of a lemon lolly.
As winter approaches, inexpensive hangouts are harder to find. I guess, as a first date, you could meet for a coffee without breaking the bank. At some stage, though, your date might suggest drinks, dinner, the cinema. Do you ’fess up, and tell them that you can’t afford it, or do you go along with it, to save face?

If you’re both in the same boat, financially speaking, it’s got to be easier. Knowing that the other person can’t afford the Ritz either means that you can suggest a cheap date without looking like, well, a cheap date.

But what if he or she is wealthier than you? I’m not talking about Bill Gates level here, but just a little bit better off. Going to the cinema might be their idea of a great night out, while you spend the whole film fretting over the price of the ticket.

I guess what I’m really talking about here is shame. Despite my best efforts to acclimatise to spending less, I still detest that sinking feeling in the stomach of knowing that I can’t afford something. Again, I’m not talking about diamonds, or a mansion. I’m embarrassed to tell someone that I’ve only just met, or whom I’m getting to know, that I can’t really afford THAT restaurant, to go for a second course, or share a bottle of wine.

Should I be nervous of telling them? Well, you might think that anyone who turns you down on the basis of your wealth is not worth seeing anyway. On the other hand, maybe they would just be acting rationally.

In my opinion, in a good relationship, you enjoy spending time with one another. Sure, you each have your own interests, but fundamentally there are things you want to do with one another. Let’s imagine that your potential partner’s hobbies include skiing, expensive meals out, and front row theatre seats in the West End, none of which you can afford. Is it shallow of that person not to want to be with you, because you don’t have enough money? I’ll leave that for you to ponder.

Thanks for reading.

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Day 47: It’s a marathon not a sprint

A fortnight ago I did an overnight marathon around London, in aid of Cancer Research UK. It was a fantastic experience, with tough times along the way, but there are a few memories that will stick with me.

1) Watching the sun come up in the city; a beautiful red, orange, white and blue background glowed around the famous sights. The view was breathtaking. Simply perfect.

2) Arriving at the break point at Mile 19. Bodies were littered around the courtyard as though it were a warzone; everyone was wrapped in foil blankets to protect against the chilly night air, and the first aid station had a lengthy queue outside.

3) The number of people sleeping rough on our city’s streets.

When you walk around London during the day, you probably don’t pay too much attention to the homeless. At night, though, the city was emptied of its daytime tourists, and the problem was all too obvious. Doorways were filled with sleeping bags, holding people whose only mattress was a flattened cardboard box.

At the stop-off points along the way we were given energy drinks, cereal bars and bananas; many people were leaving their food and drink next to the huddled figures. I was touched that so many people were affected enough to donate their energy supplies, even after trudging for twenty or so miles.

At church last Sunday, we celebrated Harvest Festival. Although we no longer bring in the fruits of the harvest (“non-perishables only, please”), the spirit remains. We come together as a community, and give thanks for what we are so lucky to have.

Equally as important is the recognition that so many do not have ready access to food and drink. Every Sunday we collect for the local food bank, which provides for people who are struggling to afford the very basics in life: food and shelter. At Harvest, we renewed our efforts; the food bank is experiencing unprecedented demand, so the gathering is all the more important now. Our mountains of unneeded food are being donated to the Wimbledon Food Bank and the Merton Faith in Action Drop-in centre for the homeless.

As autumn kicks in, and winter approaches, it’s time to think about lighting the fire, and snuggling up in a blanket, with a hot chocolate, while watching some mediocre Saturday night telly. If you do have the basics in life, plus a little extra, I urge you from the bottom of my heart to give a little of what you have to someone who does not.

Whether it’s time or money, someone, somewhere, will appreciate it. If you’d like to volunteer, zillions of organisations are looking for people just like you, and a quick Google search will almost certainly bring up somewhere right where you live. In London, charities such as St Mungo’s are looking for volunteers in all sorts of roles, all year round. Crisis runs a special homelessness project over Christmas, and needs thousands of volunteers at this time. If you’d otherwise be spending Christmas alone, this is a great way to stave off loneliness, and get that feel-good glow inside.

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Thank you so much for reading my posts. This journey has taught me so much about myself, and so many people have said really lovely things about my blog. I appreciate it a lot.

Goodbye,

Shopaholic

xxx

Day 45: Tithe Me Up!

Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.

Francis of Assisi

How much do you give to charity? Is it a little, a lot?

It has recently come out in the news that young people don’t give nearly as much, proportionately, as older people. What is the long-term impact of this on charities? Will they be sustainable?

To me, it seems that asking how much one gives to charity is akin to asking someone’s salary. In Britain, at least, still taboo.

Historically, religions have provided a guide as to how much to give. In Islam, zakat, the third pillar of Islam, requires an annual contribution of 2.5% of an individual’s wealth and assets. Tzedakah is the name for compulsory giving for Jews; Deuteronomy commands ten percent of earnings to be given away every three years.

Perhaps the decline in religious affiliation correlates to the fall in giving by younger generations.

So, when I’m in debt, and trying desperately to scramble out, what should I give? Nothing? A little?

When I started work, I signed up to Give As You Earn or Payroll Giving. It’s fantastic for charities, because their income is steady, and guaranteed. It’s also great for you, because deductions are made pre-tax, which means that (if you’re a basic rate tax payer) giving a tenner to charity effectively only costs you eight quid.

As a church-goer, how much I give to charity is based on a guideline from my church. Guidelines are useful; in schools there are rules to teach children how to behave, in society we have laws to keep order. In religion, alms-giving commandments are similar. If it’s a law, rather than a choice, there is no alternative. That’s not to say that we should feel forced into giving, just that it makes it the happy norm; it would be abnormal not to give.

Zakat, tzedakah, tithe. Do we need religions to impose rules on us, to behave charitably? In one American study*, religiosity and charitable giving were causally linked, and across the web many seem to think the same. Of course we don’t need these rules. Of course atheists, agnostics, and so on, give to charity, and do not need the threat of eternal damnation or an angry god to compel them to do so.

For me, it’s just useful having someone to tell me how much is a reasonable amount. At the start of the post, I asked you if you give a little or a lot. Who knows?

I like this quotation and I hope that, whether religiously inclined or not, you do too (non-believers can just ignore the last six words!):

Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver

(2 Corinthians 9:7)

*Wolfgang Bielefeld, Gifts of Money and Time: the Role of Charity in America’s Communities, ed. Arthur C. Brooks (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2005).

Day 35: Perspective

“Like, oh-my-god, this whole, like “not shopping” thing is, like, so hard.”

 

While I go on struggling with my lamentable attempts to cut down on caffeine and consumables, the “Make a Difference” service at my church is a fantastic opportunity to get some perspective on things.

Last Sunday, Julian Page, from the Livingstone Tanzania Trust (LTT), came to talk. A legacy fund from Holy Trinity has been supporting the Trust, and Julian came to talk to us about what had been achieved over the past year with the money given.

I found the talk extremely moving; I’d been having a bad day, mulling over everything that was wrong in the world, and hearing about the work of the Trust both exacerbated and alleviated this. Oxymoronic, I know.

 

Well, it made me even more sad and angry, because the problems faced by those the LTT helps are still so basic. Consider, for a moment, that people in Britain have just spent days queuing for the latest iPhone. Then consider that in Tanzania nursery-aged children are being given substandard education in rooms such as this:

http://www.livingstonetanzaniatrust.com/our-work/gallery/?wppa-album=5&wppa-photo=723&wppa-occur=1

On the other hand, I was cheered by how much has been done to improve things. Julian was emphatic in the “hand up not hand out” philosophy of the Trust, and made it clear that they were not going over to Tanzania to impose our “better” way of life on the people there.

In any case, would you argue that the consumerist, western ways are “better”?

Just look at the smile on this child’s face (thanks to the LTT for this photo):

 

 

Julian’s presentation reminded me of my own visit to a country bordering Tanzania to the south, Malawi.

Although it was now quite a few years ago, I remember my trip to Malawi as one of the most privileged, eye-opening and rewarding times of my life.

During his talk, Julian mentioned how happy people are in Tanzania. (Happy, remember, without the iPhone 5. . .) I experienced the same thing in Malawi. I was humbled by how people could have such warm, bright smiles on their faces amidst such grinding, apparently unending, poverty.

 

Me at the Open Arms Orphanage in Blantyre, Malawi (before Madonna came along. . .)

 

It’s important, I feel, to keep putting things into perspective, especially while writing this blog.

I may come across as materialistic, possibly narcissistic, in my shallow existence. So it’s crucial to show the other side; to remind myself (and others) that struggling not to buy x, y or z, is just nothing. Nothing.

When you see the state of the classrooms that young children are being educated in (if they get schooling at all), how can you possibly dither over buying something else that you don’t even need?

 

Thanks for reading. xxx

 

With many thanks to Julian Page, Director of Operations and Trustee of the Livingstone Tanzania Trust

You can find out much more about the Trust’s work at their website:

http://www.livingstonetanzaniatrust.com/

If you’d like to donate to the Livingstone Tanzania Trust, please visit:

http://www.livingstonetanzaniatrust.com/donate/how-to-donate/

Day 30: Reflecting on the first 30 days

I realise that I’ve made this all sound very easy. I’ve written about all the new experiences I’ve had, from the mundane (writing a shopping list) to the more exciting (becoming a mystery shopper, “upcycling” my desk).

Perhaps I glamorise “being poor” because, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not. What’s more, I expect to earn more, and not less, in the future. So, ultimately, I’m play-acting.

I’m not skipping meals for lack of money. When the boiler or fridge break, they are fixed. I’m not shivering with hypothermia through winter as a result of having no more money to feed the meter.

I hope I haven’t offended people as a result of my flippant references to not “having enough”. I’m only too aware that I am very lucky to earn as much as I do, and that I only have such a well-paid, professional-level job as a result of my upbringing. My parents prioritised my education at every stage, and supported and pushed me to the best of my abilities. If they had not, I would not be where I am today.

I’m also lucky enough that when I was stupid and irresponsible enough to get into debt, my parents were able to bail me out.

If I told you that I have struggled with this budget-slimming, you’d have every right to be totally unsympathetic. I struggle with not buying overpriced caffeine. I struggle not walking into a shop when I see something beautiful in the window. I struggle not meeting my friends for drinks or meals out. I struggle not to buy theatre tickets, especially when I see a great review, or a favourite actor starring.

So what? Get over it!

That “we’re all in this together” slogan is utter nonsense. Boo-hoo, I can’t see Simon Callow or Hedda Gabler. Alas, one shall have to cut down on caviar and champagne for breakfast. To argue that the impact of this recession is equal across the social classes is absurd. Our difficulties are simply not on the same scale.

Nevertheless, the hurdles that I’m confronting, while minute trifles to most, are difficult for me.

I am of the opinion that I must do two things to avoid being a risible figure here.

One; never lose sight of what most people have (and do not have). Be it by giving to the South Wimbledon food bank, volunteering with Crisis at Christmas and the Holy Trinity Church Winter night shelter for the homeless, or simply by lending an ear to lonely people at church, who just need someone to listen.

Two; by taking on a personal challenge, to be less materialistic and to spend less. In the first instance, it doesn’t matter too much if my spending levels are still relatively high, so long as I attempt something that is difficult for me. In time I can work on beating down my expenses further. For now, though, I’m satisfied that I’m trying. When the going gets tough…

Wow, 30 days already! Thank you so much for reading (almost 2,000 views in the first month!!)

Day 5: The Poverty of Affluence

“The more you believe that happiness comes from material wealth, the more likely you are to be depressed, distressed, and anxious – and the less actual well-being you’re likely to experience”

To Buy or Not to Buy, April Lane Benson, PhD

“Now that the Birkin’s been lost to the Wags, we’re all about the classic St Louis tote (£580)”

From today’s Sunday Times, Style Magazine

A teenage girl recently visited Uganda as part of a church trip. On her return, she announced to her parents that she was getting rid of many of her material possessions; she had realised that she didn’t need everything that she owned.

For me, there are two aspects of our society that are revealed by this anecdote.

Firstly, that the surroundings we grow up in are, to us, the epitome of “normal”. Challenging our norms is nigh-on impossible, precisely because we do not realise that our “normal” is something that could be objectionable to some. The girl didn’t realise that she had masses of unnecessary “stuff” until she was confronted with a world completely unlike her own. It took this journey to the other hemisphere for her to understand that her “normal” world wasn’t, in fact, normal at all.

Secondly, our culture of “keeping up with the Joneses” or “affluenza” is exposed. As April Benson writes, in ‘To Buy or Not to Buy’, our society has started to believe its own consumerist lie: that the more material possessions we own, the happier we will be. So, in a state of paralysis, we march out to buy the latest i-gadget, 600-quid handbag or ever-larger flatscreen television. If we could all simultaneously take a step back and examine our own behaviour, what would we think? If, say, we were all dumped in the middle of Uganda, or Malawi, or Burundi, with nothing. Would we look at families struggling to pay for food, water, healthcare, and sanitation, and think that those UGG-stamped boots, or latest version of that smartphone were still so essential? Maybe. But, I would argue, probably not.

How hard is it to change your notion of the norm? I visited Malawi in the summer of 2005, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. In 2010 I went to Africa again, and saw slums, sewage-strewn townships just outside of Cape Town. Both of these challenged my own behaviour; I felt superficial, selfish and extremely privileged. It wasn’t long, though, before I fell back into step, marching along to the consumerist bandwagon’s tune.

Let’s be honest here. Living without succumbing is pretty difficult. It’s all very well saying that our desire for material possessions is superficial or ridiculous, but could you step off the merry-go-round? I won’t pretend I’ll be living like the average Malawian, but I am trying to take a step back to examine my personal, skewed, norm. The way I’m approaching this is to question myself every single time I’m about to hand over my money. Do I need this? What would happen if I didn’t buy it? Can I afford it, factoring in everything else I have to pay for this month?

Hope you’ve had a great weekend, thanks for reading. x

Day 4: Down in the Dumps

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.

Extract from ‘This Be the Verse’ by Philip Larkin.

Wouldn’t it be nice to blame everything on your parents? “Nature or nurture, it’s your fault!” you might scream when they tell you off.

What happens, though, when you acknowledge a fault in yourself, a trait that neither parent exhibits nor condones? So it is with my profligacy. Apparently I spend more than both parents put together on going out, clothes and, indeed, anything else you might care to mention. Now that is embarrassing…

Even with a detailed plan showing how I’ll repay the loan, the Angels aren’t happy. Every day I get a taser-like prod, reminding me of where I’m going wrong.
We haven’t bought a new car. We don’t live in an expensive area of London. We don’t go out. We don’t buy new clothes. We never put the heating on. Oh, and just to really ram the point home, ‘we paid for your education’, you ungrateful little madam!

Well, bully for them. Maybe when I’m dressed in rags, driving an old banger back to my flat in Peckham, where I’ll freeze to death sitting there alone, doing bugger all, I’ll be a smug martyr. Until then, I’ll focus on having a life, while living within my means, and saving up to pay them back.

Once the debt’s repaid, I might just have to celebrate by driving my brand new car to a shop in one of the most expensive areas of London, where I’ll buy a bottle of champagne to take back to my toasty warm house. There I’ll sit with all of my beautiful, lovely, brilliant friends, wearing ALL the clothes I own, enjoying myself, having fun, and praising the good Lord that I’ve not (so far) made the mistake of having a materialistic, money-sapping child. Amen to that.

Day 1 : Facing Up To It

Like an alcoholic at her first AA meeting, today I’m taking the first step in admitting that I’m in trouble, and that I need help.

The debt crept up on me. Every month I’d get a couple of hundred pounds worse off, but I shrugged it off. Somehow, in my head, I was rich. It didn’t matter if I had the shadow of a steady deficit, because I’d be fine. Why? Because I’m middle class? Because my parents and grandparents never got into debt?

Mine is an old-fashioned family, where the word “debt” is synonymous with “shame”. It’s just not done. My parents have never bought a sofa, holiday, car, house or telly on credit. They work, and they save. I suppose I assumed I’d live my life in the same way, without actually putting in any effort to do so.

Admitting it, then, is the first step. I’m using two overdrafts and a credit card. I’ve got a car on credit. A mobile phone on a lengthy, pricey contract. I tied myself into a year-long gym membership because I could afford to do so at the time.

Deep breath. I’m in debt. I’m overspending to the tune of £200 a month. I need to change. This is my journey. Now. Live. Today.

Step 2: Potentially even harder, even more humiliating. I scuttle back to my parents. The very people who have brought me up to live within my means, and tutted and scowled at my compulsive purchasing and ugly materiality. I ask for £500, to stop the debts from boiling over.

In return for a promise to live more frugally, and to pay back the loan by 30th November, I am thrown a rubber ring. Now I just have to learn how to swim…