"Money is like a sixth sense - and you can't make use of the other five without it." William Somerset Maugham
Have you ever tried to calculate how much money you have got through so far in your lifetime? Try it! You’ll be pretty impressed with the big figure. Yep in a life time most have us have let a million notes (or more) pass through our finger tips.
When I was a kid, I used to read Disney comics and one of the epic images was of Scrooge McDuck’s diving board. Scrooge Mc Duck was Donald Duck’s elderly uncle whose mansion included a vault in which the miserly billionaire stashed his cash. He seldom could be coaxed to spend his money, and would throw money into the vault instead. He had a diving board built into the room and McDuck would get his kicks by mounting it and hurtling down into the sea of cashola and bathe in this wealth. Many a happy childhood afternoon was spent reading the comic strip and wondering if this time McDuck could be coaxed into bankrolling a real experience instead.
As a young adult I was fortunate to be in a decade of wild excess. There were not many Scrooge Mc Duck moments as every pound note that passed through my fingers were rapidly converted into something to stimulate my ears, or my sight, or my nose, or my taste buds or my fingertips! I shudder the amount of wonga I got through in that first decade of adulthood.
Not to say that there has been much improvement since. It rarely occurs to me that rainy day planning is something I should do. Even now, when I have money in the bank, I become inspired with a missionary zeal to dispose of it in the most pleasurable ways possible. It just never seems appropriate set money aside for the unforeseen rainy day. (And anyway what a misleading concept that the rainy day is a rarity that is some point in the future...Hell! I live in England...what’s NOT a rainy day!)There is little chance of me building a diving board so I can dive into my vault of cash...according to my financial advisor anyway.
When I do shuffle off this mortal coil, I will NOT be the richest remains in the graveyard... despite the amount of wealth that may or may not have passed through the bank. There is a strong possibility that instead of a headstone it will be a case of X marks the spot! Which is fine by me, Life, I am assured , is for living – it’s a present tense deal and not something you put aside for date in the future. And to live (at least in this country) means that money will have to be exchanged for experience. What ever day the grim reaper has in his log book for me will I assure you NOT be a day when there were a surplus of funds unspent!
So, where does it all go then Jax?
Okay, setting aside the usual female foible of having many more shoes than feet... lemmee see. I guess if I’m honest I would say it all disappears with alarming frequency on my big three: Experiences, Going to Bed and Not Wasting Time.
Experiences suppose is lurking about at the top of the chart. Now this doesn’t mean abseiling in the Serengeti or bungee jumping of Sydney Harbour Bridge. Experiences are not the same as adventure holidays or travelling: for me having experiences is just spending time with my friends. I have to admit my friends are pretty awesome and I love having experiences with them. However its nigh on impossible to do so without depleting the cash pile.
Now this doesn’t mean picking up my mates tabs (I don’t have those kind of friends), but we are a rather experience stimulated crowd. I suppose we could just sit in a field and chat, but being Londoners we do rather have a) a shortage of fields and b) the world’s most exciting city on our doorstep. The past four weeks alone have included pubs, boats, balls, restaurants, markets, dancefloors, ,canals, bbqs, theatre and a trip to the zoo. There is something just brilliant about doing something different with a crowd of people who just get each other. We’re always the noisy table in the restaurant – telling tales and squawking loudly in mirth at each others adventures. We’re always the strangers you met on a night out who approach you start chatting and merge with your group. We’re usually the ones who know the name of the stall holder in the market, the duty manager in the theatre, the captain of the riverboat or the keeper in the penguin enclosure. True it costs us nothing to strike up a conversation with someone – but it usually costs us to be where we are in the first place.
This is the essence of the stuff of life in my circle. We don’t sit in a field and chat, we go out into our city and interact with the other 10 million folk in it... if we had a group motto it would be that old perennial: a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. And every excursion seems to add another friend to the crowd, which in turn adds another outing to have, which in turn adds another reason to dip into the wonga pile. So yup... the social budget is probably top of the chart. But hey, what is money for if it is not for enjoying yourself.
So where else does it all go?
Well number two with a bullet has to be the expense of trying to get into my own bed.
No... I do not charge myself an entry fee to slide under my own duvet... but I do find that at the end of a long and fun filled evening, I would like to get in it... but the cost of doing so can be rather prohibitive!
I love my city... you know I do. It’s up there as number three on my list of things I really adore just after my F’s (Family/Friends and Food). But let us not under estimate its size. They have been out with the measuring tape for years and it just keeps growing! Whilst the city of London has always been barely a square mile and inner London around 120 square miles, what most Londoners mean when they say London is the metropolitan area known as Greater London. This huge conurbation is 607 square miles and growing! It is no walk in the park (although we do have thousands of those!) to get from a-b. And when b stands for BED... my cash pile gets plundered.
‘As the crow flies’ is the stupidest calculation of distance I have ever come across. Crows may well fly in a straight line, but humans trying to get from a-b in this town find that it is nigh on impossible to go straight to anywhere. Take where I am located on the south east tip – say I want to go see a mate over on the south west tip. Logic tells me that the distance is just 17 miles. Cost per mile in a taxi varies but the average is £1.50 per mile. Thus...should one not wish to drink and drive, the cost of getting home should be a mere £25.50. However... that calculation is based on an ‘as the crow flies’ mapping. The real route (which include roads that have the benefit of tarmac) actually is 25 miles due to the fact this city kind of just evolved by accident and the towns don't really connect to each other in a direct fashion. It seems logical that a person based around south east London should be able to meet up with a friend based around south west London without it being a new series of ‘Challenge Anneka’... but geographical logic is not London’s strong suit. Thus a simple jaunt west, means forty quid will disappear at the end of the evening if you want or need to sleep in your own bed!
Third and definitely related in my where does all my money go is: on saving time. I will never apologise for the fact that, if the rest of my life is starting somewhere, I’d like to be there to join it as soon as possible. The only way I can make that happen (given the fact I love living where I do) is to haemorrhage cash on a daily basis!
The inhabitants of Greater London have a public transportation system that (although we do little but whinge about it) is the envy of almost every other city on this blue planet. We have trains that drive themselves (the DLR), we have trains that drive us crazy (the overland network), we have trains that hide under our streets (the tube), we have buses that think they are trains (the trams), we have buses that think they are tubes (the bendies), we have buses that think they are coaches (single deckers), we have buses that think they are cars (the alphabet buses) and we have buses that know they are an icon (the double deckers). Put together their routes sprawl tentacles over the full 607 square miles and is officially the most extensive transportation network in the world.
BUT. Although there is not one town in London that can say it does not have access to the network... it doesn’t actually connect places together. Thus a trip using the worlds much envied system from say Bexleyheath to Bromley (6.8 miles) will involve either over an hour on a 269 bus (going via China apparently) or a train ride from Bexleyheath to Lewisham, change then get a train from Lewisham to Catford Bridge, get off a Catford Bridge and walk to Catford station and board a train to Bromley. This joy will take one hour and 47 minutes. I’m not being facile but 6.8 miles can be WALKED in less time than that! And walking is not an option if you want to save time. If you live in Greater London you learn pretty sharpish that if you travel back into the epicentre then travel back out again to where ever it was you wish to go, you save hours of your life. So although Transport for London informs me that I could in theory get from a-b for £1.30 each way.... I end up spending £8.20 each way by going into town and back out. Thus, even though in theory getting about London should be cheap, the available routes don’t connect thus, I blow a lot of my budget getting from a-b quickly... which usually involves pointless journeys into the square mile.
This constant haemorrhaging of money on things that are untangiable totally upsets my financial advisors efforts to ensure my fiscal health. He worries deeply about what will happen when I die. I should listen as he is talking some kind of sense. But hey ho! I have a brilliant life. Yeah, I suppose it would be sensible to divert at least some of the money that comes my way into a rainy day account. I have been told over again by him that the big three drains on my resources are not actually essential. He keeps telling me that until I start making plans to stop having experiences, sleeping in my own bed and getting to where I need to be in a timely fashion... I will not die rich!
Of course you can't take it with you when you die but it's a shame I won't being rich when I do. It’s a pity because I really wouldn’t mind having one of those big ol’ funerals that people talk about for years, to be in repose on purple satin cushion, and paraded though the streets in a horse drawn glass carriage that holds up traffic! Then I’d be in death as I was in life, having an experience with my friends, in my choice of bed and part of the frustration of getting about the city that I love.
However he's right...the way cash flies out of my hands... I doubt if THAT rainy day will ever be funded by me!
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