Over the past few days I have been quite despondent about our finances. This was triggered largely by the arrival of the quote for our extension from Mr Chatty. It was impressively detailed and he'd clearly listened to my comments but the fact remained, the numbers were bigger than I'd hoped (and perhaps expected). Add in the likelihood of the kitchen fittings coming in at 50% over the finger-in-the-air figure I'd been basing my estimates on, and suddenly we have quite a shortfall in the financing that I thought would be simple to arrange. We don't really want to cut corners on something that's designed to give us an improved home for the next 15-20 years but on the latest figures there's a question about how we can afford the work without crippling ourselves for the next several years. The second quote from Mr Brusque arrived yesterday and didn't include the specific extras which he didn't give me the opportunity to discuss, but the like-for-like figure was even higher.
Even our day-to-day budgeting has taken a battering, not that it's anything new. December was inevitably a bad month for the budget and despite our best efforts to keep expenditure down, January has been little better. Payday was early last month meaning a longer stretch to the next one, and we've had two major birthdays (Daniel's and the mother-in-law's 60th) to fund.
It's not that, in Mr Micawber's terms, income exceeds expenditure; I earn a good salary and we can cover our bills over the course of the year. The problem is that the budget makes an allowance for savings, to permit us holidays and petty building projects such as £50k extensions, but these are always less than planned. Additional borrowing for the extension would stretch the basic outgoings still further and leave a smaller margin for error.
But does all this really govern the balance between happiness and misery, as Dickens's famous character claims? Some perspective comes from http://www.channel4.com/money/chat_vote_win/richometer/index.html according to which there are only 48m people in the world with a higher income than me. I could quibble about it being based on income, which could easily be exceeded, and with no allowance for differences in the cost of living. But I suspect that ranking based on equity in our house and our meagre savings would probably give a similar result. And so I have resolved that, with billions living hand-to-mouth across the globe and even millions in the UK struggling to keep their heads above a rising tide of government-sponsored debt, I will remain positive, find a way for us to afford the extension without living on bread and water and forgoing holidays, and be grateful for the many benefits my wealthy position offers me.
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Growing old ungratefully
I've heard it said that growing old is better than the alternative - and there is no argument from me on that point. But few things are guaranteed to make one feel old than seeing one's children pass another birthday. And so it was that hot on the heels of two of our good friends becoming parents to tiny twins last week, Daniel turned two and can no longer be classed as a baby. He is a bona fide toddler and knows it.
We had an open house to mark the occasion, with (at peak) 23 children and 13 adults present. Of those 23 children, 20 were aged six or under. Chaos isn't the word. Oh for weather that would have allowed us to use the garden - or, I suppose, a lawn that doesn't take days to drain after a millimetre of drizzle. We were confined to indoors. I mopped up eight spillages but all the food was eaten. My friend Kellie from work had made a sumptuous cake following the leitmotif Thomas the Tank Engine; he was on the tablecloth, napkins, wrapping paper, balloons, banners and cards. Daniel was so excited to blow out his candle and open his presents, it reminded me how quickly we lose that childlike enthusiasm and of course that made me feel older too.
Don't misunderstand me - it's great to see my children growing up, especially given the alternative. They're developing their own personality and learning about character, and they also idolise their dad. (Well Adam does; Daniel takes some convincing on Friday evening when he's barely seen me all week.) But I also know it will be over all too soon. One day I will be first to wake on a Saturday morning because the boys can't shift the duvet from their teenaged carcasses. Conversations will be become monosyllabic on their side instead of mine and I will take on the role previously held by my dad, berating them for staying out too late.
And then eventually we will probably become parents ourselves. Apparently that makes you feel young again. That's alright then.
We had an open house to mark the occasion, with (at peak) 23 children and 13 adults present. Of those 23 children, 20 were aged six or under. Chaos isn't the word. Oh for weather that would have allowed us to use the garden - or, I suppose, a lawn that doesn't take days to drain after a millimetre of drizzle. We were confined to indoors. I mopped up eight spillages but all the food was eaten. My friend Kellie from work had made a sumptuous cake following the leitmotif Thomas the Tank Engine; he was on the tablecloth, napkins, wrapping paper, balloons, banners and cards. Daniel was so excited to blow out his candle and open his presents, it reminded me how quickly we lose that childlike enthusiasm and of course that made me feel older too.
Don't misunderstand me - it's great to see my children growing up, especially given the alternative. They're developing their own personality and learning about character, and they also idolise their dad. (Well Adam does; Daniel takes some convincing on Friday evening when he's barely seen me all week.) But I also know it will be over all too soon. One day I will be first to wake on a Saturday morning because the boys can't shift the duvet from their teenaged carcasses. Conversations will be become monosyllabic on their side instead of mine and I will take on the role previously held by my dad, berating them for staying out too late.
And then eventually we will probably become parents ourselves. Apparently that makes you feel young again. That's alright then.
Monday, 14 January 2008
An end and some beginnings
As mentioned in my previous post, Friday was busy. I hadn't anticipated the entire weekend would barely offer time to pause for thought.
I went to Barrie's funeral on Friday. We decided not to go to the crematorium but were told it overflowed, people standing under umbrellas listening to the relay. Our old church was packed with a roll call of the past 30 years' members, including some people I hadn't seen since my early teens. Unexpectedly I got the chance to speak when Pastor Matthew opened the floor after the pre-planned tributes. Afterwards I felt something of an interloper compared to others who knew Barrie much better, but at least my hastily assembled thoughts added a different perspective. Each elegy covered a different aspect of this wonderful man's character and my comments seemed like a mere drop in the ocean; I mentioned he had a rare combination of love for people, wisdom and non-judgement, and that he "didn't consider himself more highly than he ought" but got on with what he felt mattered. On reflection, for all his amusing foibles and his lack of height, Barrie was a fine example of a man.
Sarah stayed behind to chat but I had to dash off - half a mile to our old road, which was the nearest parking place I could find - because I had builders coming to quote for the extension. And so a new beginning very quickly took shape. Mr Brusque was in and out as quickly as he could manage, taking a copy of the plans but avoiding discussion and questions and as a parting shot warning me to "keep my eyes open" when he saw Mr Chatty's van parked across the street. Mr Chatty took his time, noted details, offered advice on various topics and was generally more amenable. Whether he's a better builder remains to be seen; I need to do some more research. There were a couple of hints that builders consider our job to be quite small but it may not be as cheap as I'd hoped. I await the written quotes with interest...
On Saturday I took Adam ice skating for the first time and this too could be the start of something long-running. He fell over more times than the other 80 people put together - really! - but seemed to enjoy himself all the same and didn't become disheartened as I'd anticipated. We're considering enrolling him for some lessons; I may go too and Sarah has realised that if it's going to be a family endeavour - and there was a boy Daniel's age on the ice at the weekend - she will have to nail her courage to the sticking post also.
And finally, the finest start of all, our friends Paul and Kerry became parents to twins Robyn and Phoebe yesterday. It was all a bit sudden - only 12 hours previously I was in the cinema with Paul watching The Golden Compass, which neither of us enjoyed that much although I thought the female leads were great - but mum and babes are doing well.
And finally finally, Sarah is attempting to initiate another start. The typical conversation goes like this...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: We're not getting a cat.
Sometimes it's...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: I want to adopt.
Sometimes it's...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: Isn't it cold outside today?
As you can see, Sarah's reasoning is not particularly well developed and she has resorted to trying to enlist the boys' support for this idea. She thinks she will win the debate because I conceded last time and laughed at the Man Song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7Y0I91rubg). The boys aren't convinced and I am adamant.
I went to Barrie's funeral on Friday. We decided not to go to the crematorium but were told it overflowed, people standing under umbrellas listening to the relay. Our old church was packed with a roll call of the past 30 years' members, including some people I hadn't seen since my early teens. Unexpectedly I got the chance to speak when Pastor Matthew opened the floor after the pre-planned tributes. Afterwards I felt something of an interloper compared to others who knew Barrie much better, but at least my hastily assembled thoughts added a different perspective. Each elegy covered a different aspect of this wonderful man's character and my comments seemed like a mere drop in the ocean; I mentioned he had a rare combination of love for people, wisdom and non-judgement, and that he "didn't consider himself more highly than he ought" but got on with what he felt mattered. On reflection, for all his amusing foibles and his lack of height, Barrie was a fine example of a man.
Sarah stayed behind to chat but I had to dash off - half a mile to our old road, which was the nearest parking place I could find - because I had builders coming to quote for the extension. And so a new beginning very quickly took shape. Mr Brusque was in and out as quickly as he could manage, taking a copy of the plans but avoiding discussion and questions and as a parting shot warning me to "keep my eyes open" when he saw Mr Chatty's van parked across the street. Mr Chatty took his time, noted details, offered advice on various topics and was generally more amenable. Whether he's a better builder remains to be seen; I need to do some more research. There were a couple of hints that builders consider our job to be quite small but it may not be as cheap as I'd hoped. I await the written quotes with interest...
On Saturday I took Adam ice skating for the first time and this too could be the start of something long-running. He fell over more times than the other 80 people put together - really! - but seemed to enjoy himself all the same and didn't become disheartened as I'd anticipated. We're considering enrolling him for some lessons; I may go too and Sarah has realised that if it's going to be a family endeavour - and there was a boy Daniel's age on the ice at the weekend - she will have to nail her courage to the sticking post also.
And finally, the finest start of all, our friends Paul and Kerry became parents to twins Robyn and Phoebe yesterday. It was all a bit sudden - only 12 hours previously I was in the cinema with Paul watching The Golden Compass, which neither of us enjoyed that much although I thought the female leads were great - but mum and babes are doing well.
And finally finally, Sarah is attempting to initiate another start. The typical conversation goes like this...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: We're not getting a cat.
Sometimes it's...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: I want to adopt.
Sometimes it's...
Sarah: I want a cat.
Andrew: Isn't it cold outside today?
As you can see, Sarah's reasoning is not particularly well developed and she has resorted to trying to enlist the boys' support for this idea. She thinks she will win the debate because I conceded last time and laughed at the Man Song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7Y0I91rubg). The boys aren't convinced and I am adamant.
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Work, work, work
Just in case there are millions of people waiting with bated breath (or even bad breath) for the latest news on my life, I am happy to inform you that I'm back at work after the festive break. Not happy to be back at work, merely happy to inform you. That may seem a disservice to my colleagues, as I'm part of a brilliant team which functions on a constant supply of sweets and, for the New Year, a weekly Thursday jaunt. Today we played darts in a central London pub, although in fairness some of the darts did land in outer London. I had the great honour of being on the triumphant (read, less abysmal) team, and I also fluked a double-19 checkout, the only winning double of the day. (The other three games were all settled when we gave up and allowed checkout with a single. That's how inept we were.)
Also today, Sarah picked me up from the station after I hurt my knee walking up some stairs. The lift was good because it avoided heavy rain but the injury is bad because I'm supposed to be taking Adam ice-skating on Saturday. Sarah also almost crashed at one of the mini-roundabouts which blight the route home. This is worth mentioning because in the preceding two days I'd had three near misses on them, on my bike. One was down to a blind corner and me not allowing enough time for my new brakes to do their job, but two were drivers deciding they had right of way even though I was already on the roundabout. I fear it is only a matter of time before one of these morons knocks me off or I am provoked into damaging an encroaching vehicle. Yesterday I could have quite easily taken the old codger's wing mirror off as I caught up at the next lights but settled for sarcastically waving at him through the window.
It was a sad moment in the household this weekend just gone as we took down all the Christmas decorations. Well, not all, as some of them never made it up in the first place. The neon bell fell victim to my lack of a ladder (and my being too ill to go and borrow one) whilst we didn't have a means to attach the rope light to anything. With a smugness remarkable in a four-year-old, Adam suggested nailing it to the wall. Anyway, the departing tree left a large gap and the living room seemed empty. Seconds later I shifted my gaze about two feet to the pile of books, toys, boxes, cushions and CDs stuffed behind the armchair and suddenly the room didn't seem empty after all. In fact it's a miracle we found room for the tree in the first place.
Tomorrow all sorts of things are happening which I will write about, well, once they've happened.
Andrew's money-saving tips #4: Save money by not buying presents for long-distance friends; instead claim they must have been lost in the post.
Also today, Sarah picked me up from the station after I hurt my knee walking up some stairs. The lift was good because it avoided heavy rain but the injury is bad because I'm supposed to be taking Adam ice-skating on Saturday. Sarah also almost crashed at one of the mini-roundabouts which blight the route home. This is worth mentioning because in the preceding two days I'd had three near misses on them, on my bike. One was down to a blind corner and me not allowing enough time for my new brakes to do their job, but two were drivers deciding they had right of way even though I was already on the roundabout. I fear it is only a matter of time before one of these morons knocks me off or I am provoked into damaging an encroaching vehicle. Yesterday I could have quite easily taken the old codger's wing mirror off as I caught up at the next lights but settled for sarcastically waving at him through the window.
It was a sad moment in the household this weekend just gone as we took down all the Christmas decorations. Well, not all, as some of them never made it up in the first place. The neon bell fell victim to my lack of a ladder (and my being too ill to go and borrow one) whilst we didn't have a means to attach the rope light to anything. With a smugness remarkable in a four-year-old, Adam suggested nailing it to the wall. Anyway, the departing tree left a large gap and the living room seemed empty. Seconds later I shifted my gaze about two feet to the pile of books, toys, boxes, cushions and CDs stuffed behind the armchair and suddenly the room didn't seem empty after all. In fact it's a miracle we found room for the tree in the first place.
Tomorrow all sorts of things are happening which I will write about, well, once they've happened.
Andrew's money-saving tips #4: Save money by not buying presents for long-distance friends; instead claim they must have been lost in the post.
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
Happy New Year
A slightly belated Happy New Year to all my readers, if there are any, which I doubt.
The last few days have passed in a blur and the holiday is now over. I have proved myself a master of Wii Sports Golf - on the beginner level anyway - and also won at Monopoly, possibly for the first time in my life. There happened to be a few quid riding on it, against my wishes, although Sarah suspects it focussed my attention. In turn I pointed out the double standard that she will happily play a board game for money but opposes my intended entry into the world of matched betting on the basis that it's gambling.
We also went to a soft play, completing my personal set of three such venues in the area, and I ventured onto a drop slide for the first time in my life. In my early 30s this probably isn't something I should be proud of but the fact is I haven't had the opportunity since Flambards theme park nearly 20 years ago and on that occasion I was far too much of a coward. I don't like the free fall at the beginning but once on the slide it's exhilirating. Adam, far braver than me at either his age or 10 years older, went on it twice (sitting on my lap) before deciding he wasn't keen on the experience. Daniel showed no interest, mercifully. Instead he went off into the smaller maze and after a couple of minutes not being able to find him I was starting to become concerned. Eventually I found him in the only blindspot, sitting patiently by the other slide waiting for me to accompany him down. It was a sweet moment.
I also faced the dilemma of how much interaction with other children is acceptable in such an environment. There was a boy of about five who wanted to go on the drop slide but not alone. I didn't know him from Adam (well I did, but you know what I mean) and although I would have happily taken him on the slide, or picked him up if he'd fallen, or helped him around the maze, you never know how parents will react. As it turned out he was a late arrival to the same birthday party we were at but I erred on the side of caution and left him to his own devices. It struck me what a sad state of affairs that is.
Finally we had a New Year's Eve party, which went pretty well for the most part if you overlook the large amount of red wine consumed by a small number of people and the usual tensions introduced by the arrival of certain guests who shall remain nameless, plus a stranger to whom most present took a dislike. The greatest joy for me was going to collect the boys from their grandparents yesterday and seeing the beaming smiles at my arrival. I felt rather guilty that Daniel had declined to sleep in his normal docile manner but it was good to have them back.
Today I go back to work and will miss my family desperately.
Andrew's money-saving tips #3: Reduce your phone bill by getting your friends to ring you.
The last few days have passed in a blur and the holiday is now over. I have proved myself a master of Wii Sports Golf - on the beginner level anyway - and also won at Monopoly, possibly for the first time in my life. There happened to be a few quid riding on it, against my wishes, although Sarah suspects it focussed my attention. In turn I pointed out the double standard that she will happily play a board game for money but opposes my intended entry into the world of matched betting on the basis that it's gambling.
We also went to a soft play, completing my personal set of three such venues in the area, and I ventured onto a drop slide for the first time in my life. In my early 30s this probably isn't something I should be proud of but the fact is I haven't had the opportunity since Flambards theme park nearly 20 years ago and on that occasion I was far too much of a coward. I don't like the free fall at the beginning but once on the slide it's exhilirating. Adam, far braver than me at either his age or 10 years older, went on it twice (sitting on my lap) before deciding he wasn't keen on the experience. Daniel showed no interest, mercifully. Instead he went off into the smaller maze and after a couple of minutes not being able to find him I was starting to become concerned. Eventually I found him in the only blindspot, sitting patiently by the other slide waiting for me to accompany him down. It was a sweet moment.
I also faced the dilemma of how much interaction with other children is acceptable in such an environment. There was a boy of about five who wanted to go on the drop slide but not alone. I didn't know him from Adam (well I did, but you know what I mean) and although I would have happily taken him on the slide, or picked him up if he'd fallen, or helped him around the maze, you never know how parents will react. As it turned out he was a late arrival to the same birthday party we were at but I erred on the side of caution and left him to his own devices. It struck me what a sad state of affairs that is.
Finally we had a New Year's Eve party, which went pretty well for the most part if you overlook the large amount of red wine consumed by a small number of people and the usual tensions introduced by the arrival of certain guests who shall remain nameless, plus a stranger to whom most present took a dislike. The greatest joy for me was going to collect the boys from their grandparents yesterday and seeing the beaming smiles at my arrival. I felt rather guilty that Daniel had declined to sleep in his normal docile manner but it was good to have them back.
Today I go back to work and will miss my family desperately.
Andrew's money-saving tips #3: Reduce your phone bill by getting your friends to ring you.
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