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 Iget 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 points on the moisturizer I use.
I
love
advantage points. Aren’t they a wonderful invention? If you spend enough, you can get really good prizes, like a beauty day at a hotel. Last Christmas I was really canny—I let my points build up until I’d accumulated enough to buy my granny’s Christmas present. What happened in fact was, I’d already built up 1,653 points—and I needed 1,800 to buy her a heated roller set. So I bought myself a great big bottle of Samsara perfume, and that gave me 150 extra points on my card—and then I got the heated roller set absolutely free! The only thing is, I don’t much like Samsara perfume—but I didn’t realize that until I got home. Still, never mind.
The clever way to use advantage points—as with all special offers—is to spot the opportunity and use it, because it may not come your way again. So I grab three pots of moisturizer and buy them. Double advantage points! I mean, it’s just free money, isn’t it?
Then I have to get Suze’s birthday present. I’ve actually already bought her a set of aromatherapy oils—but the other day I saw this gorgeous pink angora cardigan in Benetton, and I know she’d love it. I can always take the aromatherapy oils back or give them to someone for Christmas.
So I go into Benetton and pick up the pink cardigan. I’m about to pay … when I notice they’ve got it in gray as well. The most perfect, soft, dove-gray angora cardigan, with little pearly buttons.
Oh God. You see, the thing is, I’ve been looking for a nice gray cardigan for ages. Honestly, I have. You can ask Suze, my mum, anybody. And the other thing is, I’m not actually
on
my new frugal regime yet, am I? I’m just monitoring myself.
David E. Barton says I should act as naturally as possible. So really, I
ought
to act on my natural impulses and buy it. It would be false not to. It would ruin the whole point.
It only costs forty-five quid. And I can put it on VISA.
Look at it another way—what’s forty-five quid in the grand scheme of things? I mean, it’s nothing, is it?
So I buy it. The most perfect little cardigan
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