The tyranny of objects
First blog of 2010 – a reflection on the tyranny of objects. I’ve spent a lot of time this year pondering my finances. They’re not in the best of health, not quite Lehman Brothers standard, but not good either. They reflect almost a decade of living beyond my means. I look around myself wondering what I have to show for this five figure sum and it doesn’t really add up. I have a lot of good memories which one could argue are priceless, but I also have a lot of empty tokens. I’ve often bought things on the spur of the moment because it made me feel good. Sometimes it’s clothing, sometimes it’s a special meal or ludicrously expensive drinks. It provides a transient pleasure… unlike the cost which is altogether longer lasting. The two best objects I ever bought which I couldn’t really afford were my laptop in 2006 and my Sony D-SLR camera last May. I have used these things endlessly and they’ve given me great pleasure. I can’t say the same for the hangover inducing alcohol and waist expanding dinners which emptied my current account so that Scottish Hydro Electric had to be serviced by Mastercard instead. I am about to launch Operation Stafford Cripps to bring all this under control. For the next five months I will take a leaf out of the austere old bugger’s book and live excruciatingly within my means. I will try not to think about what Oscar Wilde had to say on that subject. At the end of June a change in accommodation will free up a little Martini money.
Last Thursday I went to see The Road with my friend from work. It’s no coincidence that I mention it here as it cannot fail to make you think about what is really valuable in life. The man and his son are living on the road in a post-apocalyptic landscape where there is virtually no food or shelter and everyone seems to be moving towards somewhere else. The film was not my cup of tea, but it was engaging. The things we take for granted became major events in the lives of the central characters – finding tinned fruit, being able to wash in warm water and having somewhere to sleep were sources of great joy. Having a bullet in case you needed to commit suicide was a great comfort. It was bleak! I have a lot of things to be thankful for as well as a lot of things I don’t need and never needed.
I will not let my possessions possess me.
I will close this blog with thoughts of my sister who is training to be a nurse. She phones me up every so often to tell me about her patients. I’ve learned a lot from her in the last few weeks about how hideously ill a person can be. She has told me in great detail about patients with flesh eating bacteria, neck tumours, full thickness burns and blood clots the length of their shins. It all sounds so bad that I feel queasy sometimes but when I go off the phone I think how lucky I am not to be in that state. I complain about all manner of minor ailments but basically I’m fine. I’m just neurotic and spend too much money.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbLgszfXTAY A taste of The Road.
February 8, 2010 at 01:08
I lived on a narrowboat for two years. Before I was able to to this I had to get rid of most of my worldly goods. I have to say that this two years was enriching and I never missed the things I could not have on board. We had a bath, heating and lighting, but it sometimes had to be independent of connections to the land and the result was that one became very conscious of how much water was used and how cossetted life of land had been and also how being a home owner conveyed so much credibility on people and how little living on a boat did.
Just the other day there was a power failure in our house. I could do little but sit and read a book by the fading light until the electric company mended the supply. By coincidence, my beloved MG was in the garage being fixed and so I was grounded. It was quite a moment of sanity; I made toast by the fire and stuck a pan on it to make coffee. A period of quietness was what I needed, and fate gave it to me, and the feeling of being a pioneer!
The credit cards went a long time ago. There are moments when they could have been handy, but five or six years later I am still here, in one piece, clothed, fed and comfortable and most importantly, ok about it.
I have to say that this has been a process, this gradual understanding between me and my things and my need for things.
Martinis – well, I was able to sit in the bar of a smart London hotel and order a Stolly and Noilly with a clear conscience, despite not getting change out of fifteen quid.
I think spending money is so empowering, but in the wrong way. I feel good spending money. I feel in charge; it makes people move about for me. I then get very upset if I pay for things that disappoint me, but at the same time it can give you mobility and choice. I think choice is a compelling human need, an adult need perhaps connected to an escape from childhood when all choices were made by a grown up.
I don’t think any of this is strange or unusual. It is also systemic and difficult to avoid unless you want to live in the woods and hoard lentils.
I have been on what you might call a limited budget for years now. Perhaps the only positive thing I can say about it is that it has confronted me with my own failings in other areas. It might sound a bit cute, but the rich do not have to do this. They can live in a world where denial is just another card transaction away.
I wish you well with your dilemma. I fear the only solution is to cut up the cards and take the consequences.
regards
WW
February 9, 2010 at 01:14
Thank you for such a thoughtful and interesting comment, WW. Since my last blog I have taken steps to start the epic pay back. The cards have been cut up and the weekly allowance has been calculated. It seems ludicrous that I have to behave in the following way, but this is what I do now: each Thursday I withdraw my allowance in cash and I ban myself from even using my debit card. It has made a huge difference to how I think about money now that I use real notes instead of the invisible money from my cards. Suddenly amounts which I thought were fairly trivial now seem significant when it’s going to use up my notes. I also spent a couple of hours tonight working on the clutter mountain in my flat. Again, I was confronted with how much money I’ve been wasting. I’ve got lots of nice clothes that I’d forgotten about because I just kept buying more cheap stuff and they literally got buried. Two big piles of clothes are being taken to a recycling facility tomorrow. I thought about selling them but after looking on eBay I realised the market for second hand High Street clothes is virtually non-existent. There are plenty for sale but no one is buying! Over the coming weeks I’ll be reducing my possessions so that I’m only left with the things I genuinely want and use. I certainly feel that I unwittingly surrendered to the worst of consumerism…
I enjoyed reading your comment and I found it reassuring that even these days it is possible to turn your back on some of the things we’ve been kidded into thinking we need. You’re right, of course, that it’s not really practical to live in the woods and hoard lentils, but there is lot I can do before I get to that point! I was interested to read that people seemed to think that living on a narrow boat reduced your credibility. My parents always said they would love to live on a narrow boat. It sounds as though it could be tough at times, but I think if you’re with a special man or woman those tribulations don’t get you down. When I was a kid we were incredibly short of money and it wasn’t until my mid-teens that I started this gradual process of spending for fun. I know I can live differently to how I have been living because I’ve done it before.
Now you’ve made me think about this more deeply I realise that in a lot of ways I’m lucky (as are you by the sound of it). I can feel at home drinking in the Bollinger Bar at the Balmoral but just as easily nurse my half pint in a wee jakey pub and then go home on foot. Not everyone can do that
Jalopy (and will be a jalopy for a while…)