Skip to main content

Day two: the credit crunch bloglog continues

Today was fairly tame by normal spending standards.

I worked from home this morning so forfeited my usual 10am gigantic Starbucks mocha light frappucino (a saving of £3.45! Yay!). Grabbed lunch at Pret a Manger which I sadly didn't have time to finish as went from a conference call to a meeting, then on to drinks (paid for by my client, thankfully), then popped in to the supermarket on my way home to purchase cigarettes and chocolate to add to the candy jar (yes, I am still a teenager at heart.) I haven't added in the travel costs as I used my prepaid Tube card.

Today's tally was a very respectable £11.43. Can't say that I got much for that tenner, though admittedly the cigs took up half the daily spend (why is it that the naughty things are so much fun?)



Comments

Manhattan Mama said…
How much I LOVE the names of British chocolates. Flakes. LOVE that.
Anonymous said…
Your Sainsbury's bill is a disgrace YLM. You have wasted almost a tenner on junk. Must have been a Midsummer Madness blip.
Kate B. said…
Hi MM - I will send you some. They are delicious. And very flakey. Hence the name.

Anon - Mum, is that you? I recognise that tone. I'll be having words with you later.

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...