Tress Stress

I’ve been fooled into a false economy with my follicles.

Because I’ve been so busy lately (and trying to cut back on my spending) I opted to have my hair cut at a local salon, rather than my usual James Dun's House, where they throw in all kinds of lovely extras as part of the package.

The five minute journey - as opposed to travelling into the City Centre - and twenty pound less charge for a cut and blow dry was enough to have me tripping to the salon with the smug air of Cheryl Cole in the L’Oreal advert.

It was only after my hair had been washed that I realised I had made a mistake and as I wasn’t prepared to leg it back to the car with soaking wet hair, I had no choice but to sit it out. My sadistic side was refusing to let me leave anyway; it wanted to punish me for my lack of loyalty to Liam (my hairdresser).

To be fair, the haircut I left with isn’t that bad, but it took over two hours. Well, actually the haircut took about 15 minutes – the rest of the time was taken up by my snipper talking about himself, looking at himself in the mirror and fixing his own hair.

That episode has been more than enough to let me see that once you find the hairdresser of your dreams, you stick to them like the glue on your extensions.

So, how lucky am I to have opened a belated birthday card - dropped off last night by my lovely chum, Kirsty - and to have found a voucher for James Dun's House inside?

Sharpen up your scissors Liam, here I come!

Pants and Parrots

The lovely Liz is heading into hospital on Friday for her third (and hopefully final) spine operation and has had me laughing until it hurts with tales of her last two experiences.

Her first op was at the very top of her spine and in the hours following her return from theatre, she had the sneaking suspicion that something wasn’t quite right. Even in her post anaesthetic confusion, she could sense that something she’d definitely had before was no longer there.

It was only when the porter arrived with a trolley bearing her pants in a plastic bag that she realised why she felt so exposed.

She’s never got to the bottom (pardon the pun) of why their removal was in any way related to an operation so near her neck, but feels in this situation 'ignorance is bliss' and will remain ever grateful for that last minute wax she went for.

It was after her second operation though that she really thought she’d lost her mind.

During the night she was convinced that her medication wasn’t right and was so distressed that she kept pressing the buzzer for the nurse. After what must have seemed like the millionth time for the poor night-duty nurse, she marched into Liz’s room to demand quite why she was so certain that her medication was wrong.

Liz – crying and completely hysterical by this point – admitted that she was hallucinating and it was terrifying her.

“I can hear animals! Parrots, monkeys, all kinds of animals and it’s like being in the jungle!”

“That, Mrs Barrie”, replied the nurse in terse tones, “is because we are right next door to the zoo.”

Boom & Bust Banking - Part II

I wrote earlier about my banking boom (paying off my massive loan) and now I’m going to write about my bust.

Not the one that I religiously treat to Clarins gel each morning, although I have to admit that stuff works brilliantly…

No, I'm talking about a letter from our bank saying they were going to charge us £1 for every day that we used our arranged overdraft. As most of our direct debits are out within a few days of us being paid, we generally use our overdraft facility quite quickly and had worked out that the new scheme could cost us around £25 a month.

That's £25 too much, but a quick call to the bank told me I could eliminate the overdraft cost by switching to another account. That sounded like a much better plan, until they told me that I’d have to pay £12.50 a month for the privilege.

So, after nearly two decades, we are waving a fond farewell to the Bank of Scotland and phasing out our accounts over the next couple of months; as are most of my friends and colleagues who use the same bank.

£1 a day might not seem like a big deal, but in the current climate, it’s a pound that would be much happier placed in my pocket.

You Don't Look A Day Older...

I've come to the conclusion that if you don't officially celebrate your birthday, then you don't officially have to add another year on to your age.

Having missed my own 40th last year through ill health and having a very low key birthday this year through Kevin's ill health, I've decided to regress a little and it feels great!

And I can't be the only one doing it. By my calculations, Caprice was 33 for at least five years.

So Happy Birthday to me! Thirty nine again... and again... and again.

Boom & Bust Banking - Part I

I’ve been so preoccupied with playing nurse over the last few days, that a date I’d been waiting to celebrate for the last five years went by almost un-noticed.

That date was the 6th November and it marked the last installment of a hefty loan I had taken out to consolidate my credit card debts - and then like the true idiot I am, ran them all back up to their limit again.

In all honesty, I don’t know what I was expecting when that final payment was made.

A card from the bank congratulating me on my flawless repayment record?

A balloon in a box bearing the message “Well Done Debtor”?

A fly past from the Red Arrows?

None of those things happened, but I did give myself a little pat on the back and put the past five years of paying over £350 a month to that loan down as a lesson learned.

A very long and expensive lesson...

Me & Miss Jones

It’s been a busy week here at the House of Hall, with a poorly patient to look after (I’m delighted to report that he’s getting a little better and a little cheekier each day) and all of his visitors to keep fed and watered.

In between episodes of tea and sympathy, I’ve been going back to my old habit of logging on and reading the newspapers online.

Initially, I did it to stop spending money on magazines and papers that would lie unread for months before being tipped into the recycle bin, then I realised that as well as saving a small fortune, I was also saving a small forest by not wasting all that paper.

Anyway, last week, whilst having a browse through the Daily Mail, I saw that another shopaholic has held up her Gucci gloved hands and confessed to having fallen foul of debt.

Despite being the highest paid columnist in the UK - how, I wish I had her job - Liz Jones has admitted to around 150 thousand pounds worth of debt.

Liz Jones

Interestingly enough, she has adopted exactly the same technique I did before my shopping ban, which was to completely bury my head in the sand, ignore any mail that might be a bill, and refuse to add it all up and face the awful truth.

As I’m sure hundreds of other debt-busting bloggers will agree, the only way to tackle this is head on.

So, welcome to our world Liz and here is a little advice...

Hang on to the things you truly love, work out how you can survive without all the rest, then draw up an action plan to get your finances back on track and stick to it!

It’s the only way and it’ll be a rough ride without your retail therapy to see you through, but at the end, you might just become a better person for it.

African Queen

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that Mother was heading off on the trip of a lifetime and that we’d bought her a journal to record every marvellous moment, but I hadn’t mentioned where she was going.

At the age of sixty six, she has decided to set off on a true African Adventure and flew out to the Gambia this morning.

She’ll be there for the next five weeks helping with the work of the Gambian Schools Trust.

She has assured me that she’ll do her best not to get eaten by a lion, but I think the most hair-raising part of her entire trip will have been her flight out of the UK this morning in some of the worst storms of the year.

While I can’t wait to see her pictures, I have the feeling that I may be the tiniest bit jealous of all that lovely sunshine.

Heartfelt Thanks...

My year of not shopping taught me that nothing was more important than the love and support of my nearest and dearest, and this last week has again been proof of that.

So, I just want to use this blog entry to thank…

Liz – who despite being in agony before her spinal surgery, jumped into her shiny new Mercedes to chauffeur me over to visit Kevin on that first awful night when he was in Intensive Care. A well positioned pot hole on the way home took out two tyres and broke the axle and as we both contemplated squeezing into the high visibility vest she found in the boot, ready to sit out the long wait for the recovery truck, we did the only thing we could - laugh! Ironically the car has spent longer in Intensive Care than Kevin.

Alan, Chris, Matt, the two Marks, colleagues and friends too numerous to mention - who have been in touch every single day to offer support and assistance whenever needed. It’s always easy for people to say that, but each and every one of them truly mean it.

Susie – who arrived with soup, spaghetti sauce and sympathy. She filled my freezer with food and my eyes with tears in that one gesture. I will never forget her doing that, mainly because Kevin has been so impressed with her soup that anything I ever cook again will be deemed completely inferior.

Don’t get me wrong – shopping can be fabulous, but it’s never given me the warm feeling this lot have.

Credit (Card) Crunch

It's not every morning that Channel 5 call to ask if you're free to jump on a plane to London and talk on their evening bulletin feature on credit cards.

So, when they did just that yesterday morning, it was with a rather heavy heart that I had to politely decline their invitation. The fates were conspiring against me with a poorly partner (now at home), work waiting for me to appear at my desk and the fact that I’d probably have had to pay for the flights on my credit card.

While I’m delighted that the Government has finally decided to take a look at credit card companies and the way they operate, I’m slightly distressed that it’s taken a UK wide circulation of 63 million cards with a combined debt of 63 billion pounds to get their attention.

For millions of Britons it's a case of too little, too late.

I need to stress here that no-one forced me to take – then use – credit cards. In that respect, I am entirely responsible for my own actions (and stupidity) but perhaps if the regulations surrounding them had been a little stricter, I might have been prevented from piling it all on the plastic long before my debt reached a point where it was greater than my salary.

Jolly Joules

It's been quite a week here at the House of Hall, so I was thrilled by a gift of this jolly Joules scarf.It really brightened up my day and in the next few months will brighten up my winter wardrobe too.

Make Do & Mend

I used to think the expression ‘make do and mend’ only applied to material goods in times of recession, but it seems it can work just as well for the human heart.

Kevin’s skillful surgeon was able to repair his damaged valve - rather than replacing it - by pleating his own tissue to mimic the missing section.

It’s still going to be a long recovery for him, but we know we’ll get through it because we love each other - whole heartedly...

Buddha & The Beatles

Just two of the things that Kevin will be packing into his bag to take into hospital on Monday.

Not the real Beatles, obviously!

I doubt any hospital - no matter how lenient - would allow Paul McCartney to sit strumming on the end of your bed. And, as far as I’m aware, Ringo’s busy with voice-over work anyway.

After a four decade long denial that the band who set the Sixties screaming were any good, Kevin has relented and requested an i-pod packed with their tunes to accompany him on the long and winding road to recovery.

My job over the weekend is to load up his hospital listening and tuck a few surprises into his bag. I can write them here as he doesn’t read this blog - he already has enough to cope with putting up with me in real life!

These will include a card of the Eiffel Tower - I hope to treat him to a trip to Paris when he returns to health - and a tiny, bronze Buddha, bought for luck. Let’s be honest, when you’re facing open heart surgery, you can’t have too much luck. Or love...

And he’ll be getting plenty of both.

Money Maker

In just over two weeks, Mother is heading off on the trip of a lifetime (more on that later) and I wanted to give her something to take on her travels.

After much thought, cash seemed the best option; that way she can spend it on whatever she wants, whether that comes in the form of a keepsake or a night out with the friends she’s joining.

So, I set myself a target of raising £100 and have been frantically Ebay-ing over the last few weeks to achieve it.

Today I’m proud to announce that I’ve made £92.40 on items I wasn’t using and who now have happy new owners. I’m delighted!

Mother’s coming over to Glasgow tomorrow, so we can have lunch together before she jets off. All I have to do is add the last few pounds to the total, then tuck the whole lot inside the cover of the journal I’ve bought her to record her adventure and wish her ‘Bon Voyage’.

Wet or Dry?

Last night, when I was at work, I decided to indulge in a spot of extreme multi-tasking - with disasterous consequences!

My combination of phone answering and yoghurt pot opening left my lovely, black wool trousers from Boden looking as though they’d come under attack from a scatological seagull.

The problem is they’re dry clean only and the thought of having to trail to my favourite dry cleaners (one of the few I’ve found that doesn’t shrink / wreck / fade my clothes) and then wait a week to get them back, was too much for me.

So, I’ve taken matters into my own hands and my trousers are currently wallowing in cold water and Woolite, while I cross my fingers.

I’ve been down the road of handwashing dry clean only items before - when I stopped shopping for a year - and although it was only a few garments, they survived their swim and are still being worn.

I’ll keep you posted on whether these trousers remain the wide legged, high waisted beauties that Boden intended them to be, or whether they start a whole new life as a pair of mis-shapen, three quarter length Capri pants.


(Update - Sunday 11th: they've survived their soggy ordeal and look as good as new!)

Sometimes It's Wrong To Resist

There are occassions when it's wrong to resist the seduction of shopping.

Admittedly these occassions are few and far between, but I’ve just experienced two of them; the birthday of a most fabulous friend and the birth of twins.

So, I’ve been on a mini spending splurge and it’s weird just how much more pleasure you get in shopping for others. By not focusing on yourself and all the little treats that you could be popping into your basket, you start to look really carefully for gifts that are special to that person.

And where better to start the search than Bumblebee in Glasgow...

Of course, that’s where the search also ended because it seems I can’t go in there without buying something.

This is the shop where I was so smitten with their Alessi cat feeder, that I bought it for Susie before she’d even got her cat! This is the shop that I step into and just wish it was mine. This is the shop where I swear they spray something into the air that makes you lose all sense of control over your credit card.

That’s how I ended up skipping back to the car with a bag containing two gorgeous baby blankets (you’re never too young for your first cuddle in cashmere) for Autumn and Rory, and a little something for Susie that will remain a secret for now (she reads this, so I don’t want to spoil it).

Bonnie Baby Cashmere

I can truly say that on this occassion I’d have been wrong to resist.

Reasons To Be Cheerful - Part I

During my year of not shopping, I realised that moping around and feeling sorry for myself was the last thing I should be doing; after all, no-one wants to be met with a sullen face and I was the one that brought all that debt on myself!

Instead, I made a point of seeking out little things that were not only free, but made me feel really happy, and it’s amazing just what you can find once you start looking. Although I’ve ditched the five pound a day rule for the foreseeable future, I’m still trying to control my desire to hit the shops and give my plastic a pounding. And, with everything that's going on at the moment, the thought of a quick ride on the retail roller-coaster is more than a little tempting.

So, to stop my shopping but still keep a smile on my face, I’m going to start listing my ‘Reasons To Be Cheerful’ and if anyone else wants to join in, I’d be delighted.

First up - Walking the dog on Autumn mornings.

The ones where the sun is bright and low, the leaves that have fallen are still crisp underfoot and there’s enough chill in the air to wrap up in a snuggly scarf and the lovely, new coat you’ve just bought to see you through the Winter.

If you’re really lucky you might even get to see a little chap like this in the undergrowth. Hobbs had startled him and he was just beginning to unroll again...

Six Sensational Days & Three Lovely Locations

It’s amazing what you can do when you drop your promise to curb your spending and embrace a promise to live life to the full.

We’d been planning a few trips away between now and the end of the year, but with less than a week until Kevin heads into hospital, we reckoned we should just squish the whole lot together.

So, we pooled our cash, packed our cases and set off.

First stop was Slaley Hall in Northumberland where Hobbs had a snuffle-tastic time in their grounds, ate handsomely from the sausage selection of the breakfast buffet and snored loudly at the end of each day; Kevin’s time in the pool and sauna was so extensive that he almost grew webbed feet and I couldn’t resist the lure of the spa and a quick snooze through one of their relaxing facials. Combined with cocktails on the couches after dinner and a few glasses of bubbly, it was the perfect trip.

Despite having to drop into work on the way back, I was still tingling and glowing from my spa treatment when we hit the Crieff Hydro a couple of days later. Another blissful episode of being indulged, pampered and fed to the point of bursting; kicking through the autumn leaves and pulling faces for the camera.

Our final destination was Gleneagles and the afternoon tea that our fabulous chum, Alan – or Uncle Mongoose as he’s known to Hobbs - had booked for us. Two hours and about a million calories later, we were heading for home; happy and relaxed in the knowledge that we’d done everything we could to put the worry of Kevin’s impending op to the back of our minds.

My two favourite lads having lunch in Hexham

Broken Hearted

I realise that over the last few weeks my blog has been something of a bore, but my thoughts have been elsewhere.

Basically, they’ve been focused on Kevin and I, and what the future holds for us.

On the back of a horrible year of health worries and recuperation, we’d started planning how we were going to move on. We’d bought a little book each to write down all the things we were going to do in the next few years; the places we wanted to visit; the cars we wanted to drive; the careers we wanted to aim for; the indulgent but needless little treats we wanted to save for.

And then the rug got pulled from under our feet...

After several weeks of appointments with doctors and consultants, my incredibly fit and apparently healthy partner was told on Monday that his heart valve is failing, causing his heart to enlarge, and that surgery is his only option. We sat stunned as the surgeon reeled off the statistics, desperately hoping to hear some good news or to wake up from the nightmare we were having, but neither of those things happened.

We’re still stunned. Our little books containing all of our hopes and dreams have been put aside, as have my promises of restriction.

There are many things that are more important than money - living and loving and having fun - and while we have no intention of going completely crazy on our credit cards, we also have no intention of denying ourselves.

It could be weeks or months before Kevin joins me in the scary scar brigade, but until that time, we’ll be making the most of every single minute.

Seven Days of Sunshine

Scotland is a truly beautiful place when the clouds clear and for the last seven days we have been bathed in blissful sunshine; making Hobbs a very happy, little dog.

I realise that my recent rambling about the weather is making me sound like my mother. Also, I’m worried about scaring away the tourist trade and being sent hate mail by VisitScotland, so I promise to stop and will leave you instead with a little glimpse of how gorgeous this country can be.

My Halo Slipped...

My five pounds a day rule has suffered a bit of a setback.

A couple of friends’ birthdays (one was the big four-oh so a decent bottle of bubbly was required) and an emergency food shop put paid to my smugness at having kept to my budget so well over the last couple of weeks.

Most people are not familiar with the ‘emergency food shop’. Most people realise long before we do that their fridge needs a top up, but as I keep all my nail varnishes in there - it stops them going gloopy - we’re usually too dazzled by their jewelled colours twinkling in the glow of the refrigerator light to see that nothing much else is on the shelves.

I would feel a bit guiltier over my inability to stick to my promise, but I doubt even Nigella Lawson could have conjured up something edible out of the one old lime and half-eaten jar of cornichons that were lurking in the back of the fridge - although if anyone has a recipe that proves me wrong, I’d love to see it.

I know I’ve fallen off the wagon but it was just a minor tumble, so I’ve put my wallet away again and clambered back on.