Step Away From The Sale Rail!

I know times are tough for retail and for that very reason, I feel awful posting a blog asking fellow shopaholics to step away from the sale rail, but for the good of a dwindling bank balance it has to be done.

Usually by mid-January, the shopaholic - stressed by all those half price or less tags - can start to relax a little as fashion goes full-price again and all they have to avoid are commercial TV channels showing a never-ending loop of adverts displaying happy people on holidays they can't afford to book.

Excessive viewing of these adverts generally results in a shopping spree (which you tell yourself is to cheer you up because you can't afford the holiday) and on returning home laden with bags of unnecessary items, you realise you could have paid for your entire clan to got to the Maldives for a month.

But this year is different...

Sales are still in full swing and showing no signs of retiring back to the stock room. My lunchtime sandwich shop is fraught with the dangers of items bearing labels of temptation - 50% off; 70% off; £1 or less; free if you bring your own bag; tired old tops and stained skirts, which have been kicked around the changing room floor for the last three years, desperately trying to get our attention so they don't have to face the humiliation of the clearance section.

But for the restrained shopper there are still bargains to be had. In a moment of consumer clarity, I found two really great dresses from Zara reduced to just over £20 and perfect for work. I don't normally wear dresses to work, but thought it could be the 'New Me' and ventured out in the little black number this week.

The opinion of one of my esteemed colleagues was that it made me look 'a bit like someone in The Spy Who Shagged Me'. This would be great if I wasn't so fearful that the 'someone' he was referring to was Mini-Me...

2012 - It All Becomes Clear

Clarus: the latin word for 'clear', which over time has gone through Italian and French alterations and ended up being Clari (admittedly, not a massive change considering it probably took place over hundreds of years).

But, those are the first five letters of just three things that are going to make a big difference to my life in 2012...

Clarity: No more faffing around! I need a clear idea of what I really want to do with my life, where I want to be and how I want to get there. It will also mean clearing of debt and clearing of clutter - two things which I never fully seem to get to grips with despite convincing myself that my life would be perfect if neither were in it.

Clarinet: My Christmas gift from Mother and suggested by my consultant as a way to help build my breathing up a bit. Originally, this was going to be achieved through opera singing lessons, but - as I'm reliably told by several of my nearest and dearest that my singing 'would scare rats off a bin' - this idea was ditched, even though it was obvious to me that they were simply jealous of my dulcet tones and were lying to cover up their envy.

Clarisonic: You can't take on the world - or learn a musical instrument - unless you're looking your best and having banged on for the last year about how great my skin could be with this little device, Kevin relented and asked Santa if I could have it as I'd been a (reasonably) good girl over the last twelve months. I'll be unrecognisable by the end of January!

I'll keep you posted on whether it's all going to plan, but in the meantime, I hope 2012 brings you a little clarity too. If, however, it's brought you a clarinet, let me know and we might try to get a band together...

All Of A Flutter Over Flattery

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and this blog post has left me all of a flattered flutter.

http://bit.ly/nqhtLE

Not only is it a lovely blog - and I strongly advise you to have a read - but it's inspired me too.

There really is only so long that any one person can stop shopping for (and people want to continue reading about) before serious cracks start to appear and items simply have to be replaced. So, instead of focusing on the impossible task of never shopping again, I'm going to start looking at other aspects of saving money and spending less, and if you have ideas or would like to guest blog on here, then let me know.

In the meantime, take a little trip to Tasmania via the link above. Take a good cup of coffee with you, relax and enjoy.

A Lot Of Money For Honey

Exactly three years ago I had a lobectomy after finding out I had carcinoid cancer, so today has been a bit of an emotional mixed bag.

Mainly elation that I'm alive, to be honest, but also a little disappointment that I still don't feel back to my bouncy old self.

I'm still not at my best in the morning, although those who know me well have never felt I was great first thing and have tended to steer clear until I've inhaled a few cups of coffee. I still seem to pick up whatever germ / virus / cold / lurgy is doing the rounds and at the start of the year even managed to get pleurisy, which sounds like something I picked up in the Debtor's Prison and hid under my petticoats. And, I'm still struggling to get my exercise programme up and running (just picking up my trainers and looking at them doesn't count).

So, in a bid to boost my health and get myself fit, fun and feeling fab I've started with the basics - vitamins and feel good supplements. This has, so far, meant the purchasing of Echinacea (to clear the latest lurgy), Cod Liver Oil (no creaky joints here), Berocca (if it's good enough for the dancers on Strictly) and Manuka Honey (how much?!).

I can appreciate how hard those little bees are working to provide me with a jar of antibacterial wonder-stuff but at just over £15 a jar, I'm expecting it to contain properties that will make me look like I've had a full face and body lift, and give me enough energy to leave Lance Armstrong trailing in my wake.

(P.S. - a big thank you to my other half for paying for the Manuka Honey after I fainted on seeing the price, although I felt that dragging me from Waitrose by the ankle back to the car was a little excessive)

I win a little, they win a lotto

Since Tuesday night, I have been hoping against all hope that a 'news about your ticket' email might appear in my inbox.

By Wednesday, I knew it wasn't going to happen and started scanning the pavements - there was always a miniscule chance that the winner of Europe's biggest every lottery win would have somehow carelessly dropped their ticket on the way to cash it in at the newsagent and I would find it while out walking Hobbs.

Today, we find out that the lucky recipients of enough cash to sustain even the most exgravagant of wish lists are a lovely couple from Largs, who somehow managed to hold their nerve and talk calmly about a win that makes them almost as wealthy as Posh & Becks (and look at how much posturing and pouting she had to do to rack up that fortune!).

Green with envy, my boss and I watched their televised press conference and found all feelings of 'it should have been me' fade away as they revealed themselves to be the kind of people who should win that kind of money - our biggest fear had been that some monumental waster was going to claim the cash, rather than a couple who say they will use that lovely lolly to help others.

So tonight I'm raising a toast to Colin and Chris Weir with not a jot of jealousy (okay just a teeny bit) that I could have cleared my debt - and that of a Third World country - had I been the winner. I hope they have the health and happiness to really enjoy the good things their one hundred and sixty-one million pounds (gulp!) can bring to them and those they choose to share it with.

Besides, I'm not stranger to winning.

Just last Friday I cleaned up on the Euromillions; although I have to admit, I had no idea they had prizes as small as £5.80.