It's nearly the end of June. And the tally for the no-buy month is as follows.
Things I didn't buy but wanted to: lots, including clothes, books, toys, tools.
Things I did buy:
- three books (mathematical finance, coding) £80
- cards and birthday presents for nephews £80
- two phone chargers (one utterly-useless one-off charger £5; one car charger and handsfree set £5
- one bottle (now) extremely rare whisky £21. I have no excuses for this one, except it's a one-off, there were only 2000 bottles made and hwsgo is very fond of it. And the last rare whisky I bought for £20 is now retailing over £100 per bottle. Investment, honest guv.
- Haircut £50.
Things I learnt about myself in the process:
- I have more resources than I thought, both mentally and materially. Case in point: the long dress. I needed a dress for a formal dinner. Usually, I'd go out and buy a dress especially for an occasion like this. But I already had a formal dress: a 1950s vintage gown that fits me perfectly (and makes me look like queen E circa 1950); what was driving me to go buy another dress was a misconception about how the gown that I already had looked. It was fine, it did what was asked, and I felt no guilt about playing mess rugby in it.
- I will often buy my way out of trouble. This is a bad thing. Case in point: I was planning to dig up some potatoes on my allotment yesterday but forgot to put a garden fork in the car. Normally, I would go buy another cheap fork; this time, I just didn't dig up the potatoes. Often there is a choice between planning and spending; I've learnt to plan a bit more, and build in a bit more contingency (like packing a few more clothes rather than assuming that I can always buy more if needed).
- I treated shopping as a leisure activity. This is bad. Example: I went to Edinburgh this week. During the sales. Now normally that would be good for a couple of hundred pounds worth of shopping. This time, I noticed the sales were there but ignored them.
- I buy things without thinking about what I already have. I have too much stuff: some of it is useful, some not. But some of it is repeated and exists in my cupboards only because I have a mental note to buy X without checking whether I already have X. And if the place is packed with stuff, it's more difficult to find out.
- Not buying things paradoxically makes you more likely to tidy through and get rid of excess stuff. Things have value. Not being able to buy more brings this value into sharp focus. Sometimes the value is financial: "I bought this, don't use it but it's too expensive to throw out" (for that, there's ebay: you won't recover costs, but you won't feel quite so bad about it); sometimes it's misplaced emotional value "X gave me this, I ought to keep it" (well, the point of a gift is that it's given, and once given, it should be under the control of the recipient, not the giver). Sometimes it's panic value "if I get rid of this I might not be able to get another one" (well, hello there; if you're not actually using it, then does that really matter?). My house is now a great deal tidier and lighter than it has been in a long time: I'm finally getting back to a simpler, tidier state of mind.
- Money also has value. If you don't spend it in large chunks (as in shopping for things that aren't food or small amounts of fuel), your perception of what is a large value changes. I've found myself spending less money on food, and planning more rather than accepting wastage (I now cook up a week's supply of food at a time and leave it in single-portion boxes in the freezer). I'm more likely to cycle to work , not just because the no-car week went well (it did), but also because I resent paying to avoid my daily exercise. I've also started asking for my money back, both small (checking and correcting shop mistakes), and large (buying a railcard, sorting out my overpaid house insurance and making sure I get receipts for everything on trips away).
- Quirky is good but rarely for long. If it's fun and quirky, a picture may be enough. If I can't wear something to the office (including casual Fridays), then I should seriously think about a) whether I need it, and b) how often I might wear it, and how long before the novelty wears off. And I don't have to be fashionable to be loved. I can just be me. Make an effort, certainly, but I have my own style and it's slowly starting to re-emerge from the heaps of stuff hiding in my wardrobes.
- And finally, I value security more than stuff. Just as I value fitting into the world more than the transience of pleasant foods. Like chocolate. Smelly French cheese. And air-dried sausages. Which find their financial parallels in flattering clothes, comforting textbooks and despair-reducing cosmetics.
I don't think I've finished learning things about myself and money yet (although in truth, I think I'm relearning several of them rather than learning them as a surprise for the first time). And although I promised to do this whilst less than sober, I am currently alcohol-free and still committed to this: the no-buy month is being extended to also cover July 2008. This should be a continuation of an interesting ride.
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