Learning to value the things that money cannot buy such as good health (priceless) and friendships.

I TRY, I really do I swear, not to be a complete whinger here but this week I’m going to have to give in and specifically indulge in a rant about the cost of living.

I usually try to keep things light, but every time I turned on the radio over the past few days there was another headline that illustrated how people are struggling including how the numbers of people unable to pay their electricity bills rose to almost 320,000 in December last year, up over 20% on the previous year.

That’s a massive jump, and I bet sales on dehumidifiers have jumped even higher as the poor tumble dryer is regarded as enemy number one in most households including my own.

Then I heard another radio chat, I can’t recall who was being interviewed, but it was a member of government I think, talking about the new state-backed savings scheme that’s going to be introduced soon, and how it would be ideal for all those with savings of say €150,000 on deposit.

I was driving and I nearly crashed.

I’d be lucky to have €150 to lodge some place – and would probably have to withdraw it the following day to pay for something or other.

I’m baffled. I must have been absent from school the day we were taught how to get ahead, because I think it’s impossible at the moment (even if you get a hat … sorry, couldn’t resist).

And it’s not that I’m jealous of those who find themselves with a nice nest egg under them, not even one tiny bit, more luck to them, I’m just genuinely curious how they do it.
Spill the tea please (preferably in five easy to follow steps).

In the meantime I’m trying to retrain my brain to focus on the haves, not the have nots; to value things money can’t buy such as good health (priceless), friendships (vital), a roof over my head … eh, I’ll surely think of a few more if you let it with me. But god I’d love a trip to the sun now to feel some heat on my bones. I’m also working on manifesting after stumbling across someone online who said this practice works wonders for her: walking around with coins in your pocket and repeating to yourself ‘my money multiplies.’ Worth a shot I suppose. Now, the only thing multiplying so far is the odd looks I’m getting as I mutter away to myself when I’m out and about, but I’ll stick with it. As a back-up I bought a Lotto ticket. Just to clarify, it could have been me… but it wasn’t! But not to worry because … ‘my money multiplies’.

I’m playing the poor mouth now because I had a lovely night in London at the weekend with the college ladies  – the absolute last of the birthday celebrations because my bank balance or liver can’t take any more. Email was just coming in when we first met, and the internet was also emerging as a concept –– funnily enough we didn’t think any of them would catch on –  that’s how long we know each other. I was on an early morning flight from Cork on a Saturday morning and I couldn’t believe how many other people were up and about at what was an ungodly hour. Leo Varadkar would have been impressed with us. I even encountered a crew painting a roundabout on my route (I think my back right tyre may have touched off it slightly lads, sorry about that). But far less impressive was the insane speed some people were driving at. Obviously no one is out on a Sunday spin at that time but I was alarmed at the number of people tearing past me, leaving no room for error.

Also a little alarming was the price of coffees at the airport – €5 for a cappuccino! Sorry? I don’t even drink them but I was getting outraged on behalf of all the frothy foam lovers. My black coffee was a more pocket friendly €4.80, but I couldn’t help but overhear how the couple beside me were almost choking on their premium priced scones.

Anyway, at that point I figured I may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, sure you only go round once etc, although I made some smart savings in the duty free. I didn’t buy a single thing but spritzed myself  in around seven different Jo Malone perfumes (making a mental note to avoid any naked flames for the rest of the day), and applied so many various lotions and potions to myself that I all but slithered onto the flight. Admit it, we all do that right?

Harrods in London.

Take off wasn’t before I spotted an obligatory hen party, whose commitment to every stereotype was beyond impressive: the hen was decked out head-to-toe in white including the veil and sash (which identified her as the bride-to-be in case that bit was a little unclear), the fake tan had clearly been generously applied and yes, there were some shots (that came in little bottles, as opposed to photos).

I was half tempted to ask if I could join them as a mother hen figure as their vibe was magnetic, and I was going to offer to mind their phones, or their bags, keep on top of their schedule and text the folks back home to let everyone know they were ok, but I lost my nerve in the end and besides they were on a different flight.

Besides, my own overnight trip was just as fabulous with lots of lovely food, fun and putting the world to right with endless chats. I’m always mind blown by the diversity of people and shops in the UK capital and the underground system blows my tiny little mind.

The next day we enjoyed a lovely stroll through Harrods, a whistle stop tour of the V&A, lit a candle in a stunning church for everyone’s intentions (we’re good convent girls), had yet another coffee for the road before it was on to the Heathrow Express where thankfully no delays were encountered. I was so tempted to cave on my Lenten pledge and get some mini Toblerones for the gang at home (and mainly because I wanted some myself), but I held firm. A boarding call saved me from myself.

Then it was back to earth with a bang literally – our landing was a little less than smooth with lots of people including myself emitting out some involuntary yelps before getting off the plane to wind and rain (what else?).

But it was good to be home and there’s probably no airport in my book as welcoming or as easy to navigate as Cork.

There was no sign of the hens though – they were probably still living it large some place while I’ll most likely be all week recovering from my little adventure.