Tiny Experiments

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. ...

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? ...