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Although I enjoy blogging, it’s almost always an activity I put off. “I’d love to write that post,” I tell myself, “but I need a whole day for that.” One of the many epiphanies from my recent series of Tiny Experiments is that I can write much faster, especially when I’ve made a public commitment to do so. I don’t suppose anyone would’ve chased me if I’d missed a day, but the very threat of shaming was enough. Admittedly, the posts from that week are sketchy, but some will be reincarnated into future book chapters. ...

Since I was a tiny pope, I’ve always been good with budgeting. I’d carefully plan my larger purchases (usually books or LPs) then steadily add the money to an ashtray in my knicker drawer. I’ve no idea why I didn’t use a piggy bank like a normal person. But, hey, it worked. The money I saved as a child actually got me out of a few pickles in my twenties. All those Saturday jobs, paper rounds, and holiday gigs added up – especially when interest rates were high. As the years progressed, though, and my responsibilities changed, I found it harder rather than easier to budget. ...

While everyone’s going mad for White Lotus at the moment, my favourite telly programme is Sort Your Life Out. Each week, Stacey Solomon and her friends descend on a chaotic family home and impose order. Although this format isn’t new, what I find refreshing is the completely non-judgemental tone. Our lives get messy and this is reflected in our immediate environment. This week’s family had accumulated hundreds of CDs, which Stacey encouraged them to offload in favour of streaming. But does it make sense to rent music? ...

Yesterday morning, I was filled with joy. My calendar was gloriously empty, which meant I could finally tackle one of those projects that demand a lot of focus. I would quickly pay a bill, then I’d get started. Two hours later, I was resolving to throw all my devices in a passing refuse truck. That two-minute job had involved installing apps, repeatedly entering the same information, and “talking” to a chatbot that kept timing out. ...

On day two of my Tiny Experiment, I struggled to access my feelings about money. My beloved cat had just died and I felt overwhelmed. Humphry had been my furry sidekick for almost eighteen years and had seen me through some bumpy times. Although he didn’t have a lot to say about money, he did enjoy two passive income streams. Perhaps he should have written a book instead? Anyway, losing Humph reminded that traditional financial advice usually assumes we’re in the best possible position to make an important decision. But often that decision is prompted by an unpleasant life event, such as a bereavement, divorce, or redundancy. To make matters worse, those decisions can involve long-term commitments, such as a fixing a mortgage rate or buying an annuity for retirement. The security we crave in that moment becomes a trap later on. ...

I used to be decisive with money, but now I’m not so sure. This is partly the cynicism of mid-life, partly the challenge of the present global ghastliness. Financial planning is all about confidence in the future. If we commit to large mortgage repayments or pension contributions, we’re making a bet that we’ll be able honour those commitments over the long term: “In 10 years’ time, I’ll definitely be able to afford £1,500 each month”. Given the uncertainty surrounding just about everything, is this realistic? How do we overcome the problem of making long-term financial decisions when the future is so uncertain? ...

As a recovering workaholic, I’m always keen to find more sensible ways of conducting myself. Before my late 40s, I could set unrealistic goals, achieve them, and recover quickly from the inevitable exhaustion. Instead of being selective about which project to pursue, I would hurl myself like a loon at all of them. Now a reformed character, I was recently drawn to the tagline: “Forget the five-year plan: achieve your ambitions through tiny experiments.” ...

In her autobiography Through the Narrow Gate, scholar and former nun Karen Armstrong recounts finding a fellow novice in fits of laughter. She was pointing at a notice in the boot room and shrieking. Peering at the wall, Armstrong discovered minute directions on how to clean a shoe: “take it up in your left hand, cover liberally with polish, brush off and shine with a soft cloth”. Perplexed, she then spotted the punchline: “Repeat for the other shoe.” Her colleague, still helpless, added: “Can you imagine! If Mother hadn’t had that last sentence printed, all the novices would be walking round with one shoe perpetually clean and one dirty!” ...

Have you ever bought a new coat and thought, “hmm, now I need a smarter bag to go with it”? If so, you’ve experienced the Diderot Effect. Denis Diderot (1713-84) was a French writer, famous for his encyclopaedia and a novel about saucy nuns. In 1765, his daughter was getting married and Diderot couldn’t afford to pay for the wedding. Fortunately, Catherine the Great (a big fan of Diderot) came to the rescue by paying him the equivalent of $150,000 for his personal library, also allowing him to retain the books. With money to spare after paying for the nuptials, Diderot bought himself a smart new scarlet robe. Swishing about in his new acquisition, he suddenly realised that everything else at home was a bit shabby. Soon he’d acquired an expensive rug, pricey sculptures, and a stylish leather chair. Diderot describes the experience in his ‘Regrets for my Old Dressing Gown, or, a warning to those who have more taste than fortune,’ later inspiring anthropologist Grant McCracken to coin the term the “Diderot effect”. ...

“On Saturday, you don’t have to be completely rational,” according to scientist Oliver Smithies. In his excellent book Range, David Epstein explains how Nobel prize-winning Smithies practised what he called Saturday Morning Experiments. Nobody else was around in the lab, so he felt free to muck about. There was no need to weigh things carefully or decide whether this was really a good use of his time. ...