Read Online Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sophie Kinsella
Tags: Humor, Literary, Humorous, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, British, Humor & Entertainment, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, British & Irish, General Humor, Humor & Satire
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it says is that we can all fritter away money without realizing it, and that most of us could easily cut our cash consumption by half in just one week.
In one week!
You just have to do things like make your own sandwiches instead of eating in restaurants and ride a bike to work instead of taking the tube. When you start thinking about it, you can save money everywhere. And as David E. Barton says, there are lots of free pleasures which we forget because we’re so busy spending money, like parks and museums and the simple joy of a country walk.
Come to think of it, why don’t we put information like this in
Successful Saving
? It’s so much more useful than knowing about some fancy new unit trust which might make a profit or might not. I mean, with this scheme you start making money straight away!
It’s all so easy and straightforward. And the best thing is, you have to start out by going shopping! The book says you should begin by itemizing every single purchase in a single normal spending day and plot it on a graph. It stresses that you should be honest and not suddenly curtail or alter your spending pattern—which is lucky, because it’s Suze’s birthday on Friday and I’ve got to get her a present.
So on Monday morning, I stop off at Lucio’s on the way into work and buy an extralarge cappuccino and a chocolate muffin, just like I usually do. I have to admit I feel a bit sorrowful as I hand over my money, because this is my last-ever cappuccino and my last-ever chocolate muffin. My new frugality starts tomorrow—and cappuccinos aren’t allowed. David E. Barton says if you have a coffee habit you should make it at home and take it into the office in a flask, and if you like eating snacks you should buy cheap cakes from the supermarket. “The coffee merchants are fleecing you for what is little more than hot water and polystyrene,” he points out—and I suppose he’s right. But I will miss my morning cappuccino. Still, I’ve promised myself I’ll follow the rules of the book—and I will.
As I come out of the coffee shop, clutching my last-ever cup, I realize I don’t actually have a flask for coffee. But that’s OK, I’ll buy one. There are some lovely sleek chrome ones in Habitat. Flasks are actually quite trendy these days. I think Alessi might even do one. Wouldn’t that be cool? Drinking coffee out of an Alessi flask. Much cooler than a take-away cappuccino.
So I’m feeling quite happy as I walk along the street. When I get to Smiths I pop in and stock up on a few magazines to keep me going—and I also buy a sweet little silver notebook and pen to write down everything I spend. I’m going to be really rigorous about this, because David E. Barton says the very act of noting down purchases should have a curtailing effect. So when I get into work, I start my list.
Cappuccino £1.50
Muffin £1.00
Notebook £3.99
Pen £1.20
Magazines £6.40
Which makes a grand total so far of . . . £14.09.
Gosh. I suppose that’s quite a lot, bearing in mind it’s only nine-forty in the morning.
But the notebook and pen don’t count, do they? They’re like course requirements. I mean, how on earth are you supposed to note down all your purchases without a notebook and pen? So I subtract both of those, and now my total comes to . . . £8.90. Which is much better.
Anyway, I’m at work now. I probably won’t spend anything else all day.
But somehow, spending nothing is absolutely impossible. First of all, Guy from Accounts comes round with yet another leaving present to give to. Then I have to go out and get some lunch. I’m very restrained with my sandwich—I choose egg and cress, which is the cheapest one at Boots, and I don’t even like egg and cress.
David E. Barton says that when you make a real effort, particularly in the early stages, you should reward yourself—so I pick up some coconut bath oil from the Natural range as a little treat. Then I notice there are double advantage
In one week!
You just have to do things like make your own sandwiches instead of eating in restaurants and ride a bike to work instead of taking the tube. When you start thinking about it, you can save money everywhere. And as David E. Barton says, there are lots of free pleasures which we forget because we’re so busy spending money, like parks and museums and the simple joy of a country walk.
Come to think of it, why don’t we put information like this in
Successful Saving
? It’s so much more useful than knowing about some fancy new unit trust which might make a profit or might not. I mean, with this scheme you start making money straight away!
It’s all so easy and straightforward. And the best thing is, you have to start out by going shopping! The book says you should begin by itemizing every single purchase in a single normal spending day and plot it on a graph. It stresses that you should be honest and not suddenly curtail or alter your spending pattern—which is lucky, because it’s Suze’s birthday on Friday and I’ve got to get her a present.
So on Monday morning, I stop off at Lucio’s on the way into work and buy an extralarge cappuccino and a chocolate muffin, just like I usually do. I have to admit I feel a bit sorrowful as I hand over my money, because this is my last-ever cappuccino and my last-ever chocolate muffin. My new frugality starts tomorrow—and cappuccinos aren’t allowed. David E. Barton says if you have a coffee habit you should make it at home and take it into the office in a flask, and if you like eating snacks you should buy cheap cakes from the supermarket. “The coffee merchants are fleecing you for what is little more than hot water and polystyrene,” he points out—and I suppose he’s right. But I will miss my morning cappuccino. Still, I’ve promised myself I’ll follow the rules of the book—and I will.
As I come out of the coffee shop, clutching my last-ever cup, I realize I don’t actually have a flask for coffee. But that’s OK, I’ll buy one. There are some lovely sleek chrome ones in Habitat. Flasks are actually quite trendy these days. I think Alessi might even do one. Wouldn’t that be cool? Drinking coffee out of an Alessi flask. Much cooler than a take-away cappuccino.
So I’m feeling quite happy as I walk along the street. When I get to Smiths I pop in and stock up on a few magazines to keep me going—and I also buy a sweet little silver notebook and pen to write down everything I spend. I’m going to be really rigorous about this, because David E. Barton says the very act of noting down purchases should have a curtailing effect. So when I get into work, I start my list.
Cappuccino £1.50
Muffin £1.00
Notebook £3.99
Pen £1.20
Magazines £6.40
Which makes a grand total so far of . . . £14.09.
Gosh. I suppose that’s quite a lot, bearing in mind it’s only nine-forty in the morning.
But the notebook and pen don’t count, do they? They’re like course requirements. I mean, how on earth are you supposed to note down all your purchases without a notebook and pen? So I subtract both of those, and now my total comes to . . . £8.90. Which is much better.
Anyway, I’m at work now. I probably won’t spend anything else all day.
But somehow, spending nothing is absolutely impossible. First of all, Guy from Accounts comes round with yet another leaving present to give to. Then I have to go out and get some lunch. I’m very restrained with my sandwich—I choose egg and cress, which is the cheapest one at Boots, and I don’t even like egg and cress.
David E. Barton says that when you make a real effort, particularly in the early stages, you should reward yourself—so I pick up some coconut bath oil from the Natural range as a little treat. Then I notice there are double advantage
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