The Economy Year

Success at last

2006-03-27T16:05:00.000+01:00

The economy drive on fuel has paid off — to a reasonable extent anyway. I wasn't expecting miracles. A year ago I began to think about using less gas and electricity and started on the switchover to fuel efficient bulbs, turning down the thermostat and only heating water for the minimum time needed each day. And, after the most expensive three months of the year and the cost of both fuels going up by nearly 20%, I have not only made a saving in usage but also in actual cost. That saving over the quarter is £33 on gas and £9 on electricity. Well, maybe we can do better with the electricity in future but I think its main use now is for the heating of my husband's art studio and there's nothing I can do about that, other than asking him to turn the radiators down in the evening.

With regard to personal spending, I admit I've been seduced on a number of occasions but not nearly as much as I have been in years gone by and, if it continued right through a year, would come out at over £2000, which is only a fraction more than the Council Tax. Such a pity that still hasn't been replaced by a local income tax.

As far as summer goes (if it ever comes, that is) there is very little that looks like grabbing me. I walk round various shops regularly and maybe find one thing in each that looks attractive but usually my size has vanished. I saw an appealing summer shift in Hobbs on Saturday — brown circles in a sort of African print on linen but there wasn't one in my size and I don't feel sufficiently inspired to look for it in another branch and that is certainly a good thing.

I have bought the cropped, collarless M&S cream jacket (ubiquitous in the TV ad, I'm afraid) embroidered with huge black flowers which will be worn over a long black tee shirt shift with a V neck — total cost £124 — and, I don't doubt, with my black linen skirt as well. Two other summer purchases are a pair of striped linen trousers (Germany), a flowery print cotton blouse (Italy) and a couple of vest tops (USA). Oh, and I have got a couple more things on order from the American firm which should only cost £100 or so. Thanks to a very generous daughter I have a stunning new handbag to take me through practically anything and into autumn. So unless I fall over a pair of perfect sandals I can't see what else I could possibly want this year. Well, not so far!

Doing it by hand

2006-03-19T16:22:00.000Z

Did you know it takes 75 litres of water to do a load of washing? I certainly didn't. I do know my machine is supposed to have a mind of its own and choose how much water it needs but quite honestly, 75 litres to wash a not-very-dirty half load does seem a lot, not to mention a fair bit of electricity for water heating, especially considering this is a household of two and we seldom accumulate enough of any one type of washing for what amounts to a 'full load'.

I didn't exactly decide to take a stand but when washing my more delicate tights by hand a few weeks back, I thought I might as well do all my tights — which I did. The next time I thought I might as well add in my husband's winter socks. They're a wool and something mixture and 'thermal' though I'm never sure if that word has an exact meaning. These are all items which have been worn only once and, quite honestly, there's little either my husband or I get up to these days that would put them in need of some serious work. A quick squish through some suds, one plain rinse each and then a shared softener rinse. A short spin and there I am — one load of washing done in record time and at very low cost. I'm sure this is beneficial for my economy drive. I never use a tumble dryer now but today I hung the socks in a sunny window and they were dry enough for folding and putting in the airing cupboard four hours' later. It's possible our socks and tights will last longer under this regime.

The utility meters were read a couple of days ago — same company but visits from two separate men. One came before lunch and the other after. I think British Gas reckon we can afford maids in this part of London. Anyway, it keeps people employed.

But I am delighted to find that our electricity usage has dropped by 10% compared with the same quarter last year and gas by over 15%. It doesn't mean the bills will be any less owing to the crippling increases in fuel costs over the past five months, but at least our bills won't be astronomical. It proves that those minor economies, turning down the temperature on the water tank to 50 degrees, the thermostat whenever possible, and using low energy light bulbs wherever possible has paid off.

However, I just wish I could find low energy bulbs which will give a really bright, white light (equivalent to 150 watts) because there are two in our sitting room which stay on throughout the evening until 1 am. I have tried some which cost about £15 each but the light given out was depressingly yellow. It would be less unpleasant to use a regular 60 watt. I shall keep working at it and, now we are coming out of winter, my husband occasionally remembers to switch off a light when he leaves a room — only occasionally, but it's good to end on a positive note!

Staying out of shops

2006-03-03T16:28:00.000Z

Recently I began writing again and have rediscovered the fact that it is 90% a bums-on-seats occupation! Here is something I produced for my homework for writing class. It took a lot of editing.

Market Forces - a sestina

Business had slackened at Trevor's shop.
Like his father before, a greengrocer,
he was starting to plan his retirement.
His site attracted estate agents
unwanted by local residents.
They wrote strong letters to the Council.

Planning officers from the Council
took up the matter of Trevor's shop.
They deferred to the residents,
said really it should be a greengrocer
and not another estate agents —
for the comfortable retirement

of Trevor. Now longing for retirement,
he also lobbied the Council,
but in favour of estate agents.
"My capital lies in this shop,"
he told planners. "I am a greengrocer,
not one of the rich residents."

Consternation inflamed the residents.
Apart from Trevor's retirement,
they wanted only a greengrocer
and kept haranguing the Council
to be absolutely sure the shop
never became an estate agents.

But the usurping estate agents
outwitted the local residents
by using the basement of the shop
so Trevor did get his retirement.
The locals went back to the Council.
The village lost its greengrocer.

There never was another greengrocer
but only more estate agents
(in spite of orders from the Council)
which were all used by those residents
who also came to retirement
and sold a house as opposed to a shop.

Despite the Council now the residents,
like the greengrocer, use the estate agents
to fund retirement, often from Trevor's shop.

Fashion sense

2006-02-16T15:14:00.000Z

And what I mean by that is not spending money just to get a thrill or for the sake of having something new but being sensible about clothes. Yes, I still look at the fashion pages in The Times, Marie Claire and (you'll have to allow for my antiquity here) Saga Magazine. I have just received the March issue of Saga by the way, but I'm afraid this month the topic is wedge soles and heels and I definitely don't go there!

So what do I mean by 'sensible'? It's something to do with not going for the instant buzz and something I might feel like wearing today, or tomorrow or for some special occasion — though there are very few of this last in my life now — but for longevity. Always allowing for Lisa Armstrong, who is the most brilliant fashionista I have come across since I was a fan of Suzy Menkes before she defected (to the USA, I think), I seem to have gone off fashion, per se, and moved on to real clothes.

I lost a fair bit of weight a couple of years ago and have completely rebuilt my wardrobe. I have been influenced by Trinny and Susannah to a certain extent but not entirely. In my three sections of wardrobe I have enough good quality clothes to see me through any occasion, winter or summer. I even now have two actual coats suitable for Memorial Services. These occur with increasing frequency at my time of life. Funerals, I find, one can attend much as one is — within reason — but memorial events do require a bit more effort though I draw the line at a hat for the summer ones.

I have to admit, in spite of my straitened times, I have succumbed to a couple of skirts this year. I found them last week in John Lewis on the end of sale racks and marked down for the third time. Both by a firm called Kaliko, they are long and fitted and flared from the knee down. One is a winter-weight tweed, multi-coloured in oranges and browns (see front view above) which was reduced by more than half to £30. The other is rather dressy, also ankle length, in teal, which has a kick godet (see rear view above) and was just half the original price. The reason for buying them (apart from the fact they fitted perfectly as well as being cheap-ish) is that they will blend into my existing wardrobe with no effort. I have tops to wear with both and also a choice of jackets. I don't have to think about anything extra to 'go' with them.

I have also, this year, developed what I might call an 'interest' in dresses (frocks as they were called when I was young). Frocks are very much lacking in my wardrobe. In fact I have only two. One is a sleeveless and patterned linen for hot weather (made by Gap but which I found for a tenner in my local Oxfam) and the other a plain grey linen sheath with cap sleeves which is for smarter occasions. That has a matching long jacket and also a pair of trousers that can be worn with the jacket. But apart from the ubiquitous wrapover, which always reminds me of the overalls worn by my mother's cleaning lady, dresses are very few and far between.

How many day dresses can you see in M&S from any of their ranges, be it Per Una, mainstream or Autograph? I checked through the website yesterday. There was one black and white one in the Limited Edition range. I'll take a look when I next go in but I doubt it will do. I shall have to keep looking.

So far I have found one dress to my taste. I walked into a boutique near my home the other day. The clothes are amazingly simple, mostly with two-way zips up the front. I couldn't resist a long sleeved number, slightly military-looking around the collar and in dark chestnut. Not terribly expensive as designer stuff goes and certainly not Bond Street prices, but expensive enough for me. They are making one in my size. I think this may be one of my most sensible fashion buys ever. But only time will tell.

Using up the makeup

2006-02-05T09:35:00.000Z

When it comes to food I am now even more scrupulous about using every last scrap. Oddments of vegetables including (washed) peelings, outside leaves, mushroom stalks and salad I've prepared (remnants of which linger in the fridge) all go to making soup, particularly in this cold weather. Or, if soup is not coming on the menu for a couple of days, I'll put useful bits into a plastic bag for fridge storage and incorporation into something else which is. Chopped small and put into a casserole or minced up dish, they add body and nourishment.

So it really annoys me when it comes to makeup and skin care products. Today's plastic containers (using the principle of modern toothpaste tubes that stand on their lids) seem designed to retain anything up to 20% of cream. It languishes thickly on the inside defeating my best efforts to get it out. In the past I junked such items and opened new ones. When young I used cheap stuff and it didn't matter but as the years have passed I have moved upmarket and, rightly or wrongly, having found a selection of unguents that do well for me, I am reluctant to give them up. However, if my foundation costs £25 a go and I throw the remains away, that can be approaching a fiver in the bin! Not a good part of my economy year. I tried cutting off the sealed end of the tubes and slitting down the plastic. That made most creams dry completely hard in 36 hours.

I applied lateral thinking. I read the list of ingredients which is included on some creams and lotions. If there is such a list the first, and therefore largest, ingredient will be aqua (water). Therefore, I reckoned, I could add water to the tubes to thin the contents down a bit and maybe squeeze some out again. I was right. So now I take offending tubes to the kitchen for refreshment. I just add water — in very small amounts.

After a bit of experimentation I found the best way to do this was to measure boiled (to eliminate any impurities) and partially cooled water, into a shallow dish, one teaspoonful at a time. Then I squeeze air from the tube and place it nozzle down in the water. The tube immediately sucks it up. I put on the lid and shake it vigorously for a minute or two, then test the contents and repeat if necessary. It's impossible to control how much water a tube will take up so it is essential to do it tiny bit by tiny bit.

From my night hand cream, at £12.50 a tube, I've had an additional nine days' supply and my foundation, which costs double that, is still going — if not strong (because I slightly over-watered it) then strong enough for everyday use. Another one in the eye for the profiteers!

Beating the Squander Bug

2006-01-30T16:00:00.000Z

In 1943 I was five years old and fully aware of the details of my life but at that time I didn't know there were other possibilities. Where I was living then was 12 miles north of London's Charing Cross — which is the key point for measuring distances from the centre of the city. My home was 12 miles north and one mile to the west of Waltham Cross, the only other named Cross remaining in memory of Queen Eleanor. Twelve of these were erected by Edward I to mark the overnight halts as the body of his first Queen, Eleanor of Castile, was brought back to London following her death in Nottinghamshire in 1290.

What does this have to do with spending money? It's part of the childhood world in which my sole reality was war, air raids, blackout, sleeping in the basement, barrage balloons and being told that thunder and lightning were nothing to fear. "It's only bombs, dear," said my mother. There was also, though I didn't know it at the time, not being fully literate at five, the Squander Bug.

The Squander Bug was a Nasty Nick flea-like creature that lived in shopping bags and baskets and forced you to spend money on things when it would be much better used by National Savings and going towards the country's war effort. The promise was that their value would increase by over 25% in ten years. Assuming, I suppose, that the Allies won the war, which was not absolutely certain at the time, D-Day still being a long way off.

So although my world was greatly restricted by rationing of practically everything, at that time I didn't know that either. It was absolutely normal for me to have only one pair of shoes or sandals depending on the time of year and, although I fell in love with some red sandals my mother brought home one day, she was planning to return them to the shop because they were a size too big. I hastily dirtied them in the garden so that I got to keep them as well as the black patent ones which did fit that summer! At 67 I still love brightly coloured and pretty shoes.

I just counted them. In spite of regular and rigorous pruning I find this morning that I possess 39 pairs of shoes and nine pairs of boots. Therefore I do not need the very pretty yellow suede and leather ones I spotted on page 37 of the February Marie Claire. My heart is saying to me, "They're absolutely right for you, just the thing to jazz up your existing summer clothes and", it emphasises, "don't forget that they are flat and your high heels really need a taxi both ways and can't be worn for more than three hours at a time in your old age. And these are only £28."

It's that weasel word "only" that gets me — indeed, as it is meant to. Conditioned by advertising for the past half century, "only" tells me that I won't notice I've spent it, I'll get a buzz from the actual purchase, they'll look up to the minute and, judging by the illustration, do my ankles lots of favours. "You've got nothing to lose and everything to gain," it's telling me.

These days I only venture out for essential purposes when it's cold so I decided not to visit my nearest Topshop today although I know, next time I'm passing one, I shall go in —"just to look". Ho hum. I know if they are in stock and in my size I'll try them. I guess it depends how good they are. There's leather and there's leather and most of my favourite shoes actually cost much, much more than £28. But that's the seduction point: these I can afford, if I really want to. Anything else I can't — at the moment.

My mother's favourite magazine (well the only one I recall her reading) was Housewife. Roughly the size of a small paperback, it had a brightly (for its day) coloured cover. Inside were articles, drawings, recipes, childcare advice, patterns and advertisements. It's the advertisements that tell of their time. Most were exhortations to keep your shoes in good repair, eke out a little fish with a lot of stale breadcrumbs, save fuel, buy Knight's Castile for Face Appeal (4d and 1 coupon per tablet including purchase tax, which in 1943 was a recent concept) and to beat the Squander Bug which will get you if you don't watch out!

I now realise the Squander Bug still exists even though it has undergone considerable mutation. In 2006 it lurks in my handbag as small pieces of plastic with my name on them. And every few days I get letters offering me even more of these plastic bugs. All this is, of course, fully in accordance with the current running of the economy. Gordon Brown would be horrified if everybody in the UK disinfected themselves as I am trying to do. He would probably want me to fail. But, who knows? Maybe I will be able to pass up on those yellow Topshop shoes.

January spreadsheet

2006-01-29T11:49:00.000Z

At the beginning of the month I realised I had to keep track of all my spending, both household and personal. No use penny pinching on a tin of beans or bag of flour and then not noticing when I spent several pounds on something I (or we) did not need. And, by keeping this check, I'm now able to look back over the month and assess what was truly needed and what was not.

The first thing that jumps out is £25 for taxis. What a waste, you might think, considering I've had a free bus pass for several years now. However they were essential for taking a television set back to John Lewis for repair under the guarantee and then fetching it home again. But as this is the second time I've had to do this within the first twelve months of ownership, I am not pleased. If the instructions or the salesman had mentioned that batteries in the remote control needed to be changed every three months and I had ignored them, I would not feel so cross. But with this particular Toshiba TV partially run down batteries cause the sound to switch off. It needs an engineer to reset it. So battery changes must now be scheduled into the diary. I'll never remember otherwise. Top of the range batteries are expensive but £12 on them over the year is less in money, not to mention time and aggro, than two cabs and a fortnight without my (still) favourite telly. I can always recycle the slightly used ones in my tiny portable radio. Not all will be wasted.

I also, at the beginning of the month, allowed myself to be seduced by some knitting yarn in the January sales and I bought it — six hanks of designer silk/cotton mix for £10. That was acceptable under my new regime but the additional £9 on non sale yarns to go with it, plus some circular knitting pins I thought might be useful, was not. And it meant I'd spent another £26 in all. Naturally, being me, I haven't used any of it yet so I didn't actually need it now. And, like many people, I tend to forget what I've squirreled away in odd corners. I need to remember these things.

Two pairs of warm tights from Marks and Spencer were necessary as otherwise I couldn't always wear a skirt if I wanted to in the cold weather — I'd run out of clean ones. But £8.99 on a pair of silver and peridot earrings from Oxfam was not. I have plenty of earrings, though I do wear different ones every day. The new ones are pretty, just my style and the green of the stone exactly matches the colour of a Sonja Marohn jumper I bought (at full price, I think) last winter. I have already worn the two together so maybe I can justify them. But no, they still were not necessary.

The remaining item that annoys me was for postage. In a Cotton Traders catalogue that arrived with a newspaper I spotted some colourful corduroy shirts my husband said he would like. I ordered a couple in his size. When they arrived we found they fitted only at the neck. Everywhere else they were far too big so I have returned them. Assuming they arrive safely my credit card account will be reimbursed for the shirts but not for the post and packing charge of £3.50. The first class cost of returning them (well, I wanted to be sure they'd get there within the 14 days' return time) was £3.27. A total waste of money. I've not bought clothes by post before. I shan't again in the near future.

Otherwise, not a bad month. There were a couple of books which were not available in my local library so I bought the cheapest possible versions via Amazon from one of their linked sellers. The books were essential and, bought this way, excellent value. Replacement ink cartridges for my ink jet printer came in at £55. They were on special offer but still very expensive. I know I could buy compatibles more cheaply still but if, like me, you've had one printer die on you — probably because of using cheap inks — you're not going to risk that again.

With more care and willpower I could have avoided roughly £42 of expenditure this month. Not very much perhaps, but it would add up to £500 over a year. That would be enough for a comfortable couple of days in Paris for two. Which I'll bear in mind as we go into February!

January shopping

2006-01-21T16:47:00.000Z

I'm astonished at how much pleasure I'm getting from comparatively minor achievements. I really enjoy the daily challenge of saying, 'Do I need to go out and buy some food? Can I concoct a dish from what I've got?' It is amazing how often I actually produce a better meal than I would have done if I popped out to the local shops for chops or something from the delicatessen which would very likely be quicker but more expensive and certainly not as good for the ego.

The same, I've found, applies to clothes and linen. I love strolling round shops — high street or boutique can be equally stimulating — and, far too often, coming across something that just begs to come home with me. In more fortunate times I buy it. I'm not saying I've bought a load of unworn rubbish but I have, without doubt, bought more clothes than I need. If I'm honest it has been many more.

This tendency has not been helped by the fact that, for health reasons, I changed my lifestyle three years' ago and lost a couple of stone. And dropping several dress sizes does mean one gets into the habit of constantly buying new clothes. Another snag is that almost no garments look absolutely awful any more. And, having bought one thing, a week or so later, one finds a better version. This is something I'm taking seriously in hand for my economy year.

It needs constant vigilance but I've found I can replace shopping stimulation with carrying out those minor repairs that otherwise just wait for me to get round to them, which then I almost never do. In times now past, I hope, they would hang around until I became utterly fed up with seeing them and pitched them into recycling — probably the local Oxfam or Cancer Research shops.

Example: I have a Per Una bias-cut tweed skirt that I bought two years' ago from Mark & Spencer. I wore it twice, I think, and then realised that, although it looked fine when I put it on, after an hour or so the skirt rode up slightly. As I moved about up to an inch of boring lining became visible. A week ago I finally cut an inch off the lining and hemmed it by hand. It took me about 45 minutes, but for over a year I'd felt vague guilt each time I saw it in the wardrobe. How daft is that?
In the past week I've also put loops on much-needed new tea towels which means they are now awaiting use in the kitchen drawer rather than piled up on my sewing table. The upshot is that I am feeling very pleased with myself. My next task is to finish a nightdress I started last September. I'm just hoping the pins haven't rusted into the (sale bargain) fabric.

Living with the Remoska

2006-01-19T14:35:00.000Z

One of the most important tools in my cooking life is the Remoska and it is essential to my Economy Year programme. I use it practically every day already — occasionally twice a day. So it is right up there with the washing machine and fridge at the core of my domestic world.

Put simply, as its retailer does, the Remoska is a small, portable oven, built along the lines of a slow cooker but with the heating element in the lid and capable of achieving 'moderate' oven temperatures. It is sold in the UK solely, as far as I know, by a firm called Lakeland Ltd (www.lakelandlimited.co.uk) which has been part of my life support system for the past 40 years. Originally I bought plastic freezer bags from them at agricultural shows in the days when I had garden produce to store and a young family to feed. As time went by, and the Lakeland catalogue expanded, I bought laundry kit and kitchen utensils — even Christmas presents. And, browsing through their catalogue about four years' ago, I came across the Remoska.

According to the blurb it was invented before World War II, then abandoned but rescued in 1990 by two men in Czechoslovakia. What sold it to me at the time was the claim, "… positively miserly with electricity …" It was, then, about £70 — it's £10 more today, so perhaps an expensive investment for some. But if you cook with electricity and use the oven a lot, as I always have, it can pay for itself in less than three months.

When it first arrived I treated it like I do almost all new toys. It takes me a while to feel brave enough to try out any strange equipment. I played with it a bit but did not then investigate it fully or attempt to test its true potential. A year later my cooker died on me. I was left with the kettle, the microwave, and the Remoska. It was winter, my husband was suffering some physical problems at the time, and thus meals were even more vital than usual for good health.

Over the next three weeks the Remoska came into its own. At first I stuck to the suggestions that had come with it — roast chicken pieces, lamb cutlets with luscious sliced potatoes, and, a little later, home made bread. Then I began branching out. Cut a pound or so of any root vegetables into chip-sized pieces, layer them into the pan with some finely sliced onions, sprinkle with herbs (fresh or dried — whichever you have around) and a little salt and pepper. Drizzle one or two tablespoons of olive oil over the lot, put the lid on and cook for 35-45 minutes, depending on the quantity and depth of the layers. That, with a salad, is a meal in itself. Just one example of me making it up as I went along.

So when the new cooker (£495) actually arrived, that became the new toy. Three years on I doubt if I've used its oven more than a dozen times. I carried on with the Remoska. It was ideal for the two of us and, with a power consumption of 450W, so cheap to run. In fact, when I had been using it for a full 12 months I found the household electricity costs had dropped by £400. As I was making no other economies at the time, that entire saving was due to the Remoska.

Since then I have invested in some extras which increase the Remoska's versatility but it’s the original standard one that comes out most often in my kitchen. And I know I can rely on it completely.

In the beginning

2006-01-16T11:56:00.000Z

I'm in my sixties and, in common with most other women of my age, I find money gets tighter every year. So I've set myself a challenge for 2006, to live as well as I do now but on less money. That way there'll be lots more left over for fun -- and, perhaps, some sensible spending in due course. That's if I'm successful.

I've always had an interest in economy which goes back to the poverty-stricken years of my youth. When living alone in bedsitters I often found I had insufficient money for serious food so I lived on bread and marge, baked beans and cigarettes, and the kindness of boyfriends much of the time. Then I married and the children came along and, because I'd not married one of the richer men of my acquaintance, again poverty struck. So, in my thirties, I developed an interest in the patterns of living I started life in - spartan, wartime and austerity conditions and the never-ending making-do-and-mending of the grownups around me. I began to collect wartime cookery books, other domestic advice and even a few of the very rare Housewife magazines from that era. In the seventies I got a job writing economy cookery for The Camden Magazine. Sadly it got axed a couple of issues later. But now I feel the time has come for my lifelong interest in thrift to come to the fore. So watch this space.