December 2008 blogThere is a poster which reads: ”I’ve been rich, I’ve been poor. Rich is better.” How true. Being short of money is soul-destroying, marriage-wrecking. Repeating “no, we can’t afford it” to bright eyed children is very dreary.
Who doesn’t want enough money to change the car, redecorate the house, take weekend breaks, spoil children - occasionally?
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to work hard, be good at what you do and earn lots of money. I've nothing against people getting rich - I only wish I were among their number.
But there’s rich and there’s stupid money. Let’s take the example of a UK celebrity recently in the news with his contract worth eighteen million over three years.
One million, OK. Two million - most of us could get through that with a bit of imagination. (Never wasted hours planning what you’d do if you won the lottery and realised that 1 million is not quite enough?)
But £18 million? How do you actually use up that much money? Does any sane person want a gold-plated yacht? Need homes for all the family in the Middle East? What kind of altered state are you living in if you earn several million a year and still feel hard-done by if you don’t get a few more million as a Christmas Bonus?
There's a level of wealth where you stop envying the person and start to feel a bit sick.
When the elite restaurant Maxim’s opened a branch in Moscow soon after the fall of communism, I was sent to review it. In warm boots and thick winter coat I picked my way over penurious, bewildered Muscovites (this was long before the super rich Russian oligarchs appeared on the scene) who were, literally, hawking family treasures on the pavement in order to feed their families bread and potatoes. I’m not sure if the sumptuous curtains inside the restaurant were to hide our food from the destitute or hide the destitute from us while we ate; either way, I couldn’t swallow.
So, while I’d like to be, say, filthy rich, I don’t think I’d be any good at being obscenely rich. Even could I afford it, I’d never be able to spend 260, 000$ on a bag. (Chanel’s alligator and diamond tote, in case you’re wondering). I don’t think most of us would.
Which is why it’s not surprising that, while we may be worrying about savings and mortgage payments as the credit crunch starts to bite, most of us are relieved that the crazy greed-credit-debt-credit-debt carousel has crashed to a halt. We won’t have to listen to people talking about how much their house has risen in value, for a start.
More, importantly, we can take a fresh look at what makes us enjoy life? Huge overdraft? No. Bills we can’t pay? No. Hiding from the Postman? No.
Would we rather a big car or good friends? Kids who have everything or kids who are happy?
Loving husband or new pair of shoes? (OK, that last’s a tough one.)
For a while there, we were persuaded that the road to eternal happiness lay in buying lots of stuff we didn’t need and couldn’t afford. The credit was never real money, so we had this hallucination that the debts wouldn’t be counted in real money either.
(If Jesus got upset by the Romans turning his Father’s house into a temple of money-lenders, you can’t help wondering what he would make of todays banks, not to mention ”futures” markets and hedge funds?)
Except that deep down we knew that there must be a glitch in the argument. All that time we were in denial we were also a bit scared which is why it feels good, albeit dull, to find that we’re back in the real world now. Greed and acquisition, fun for a while (and motivating) are the opposite of contentment.
Christmas is a good time to make the re-adjustment. Don’t feel pressured into going for one last bank-account-emptying spree. Ditch the glitz and try and squeeze a drop of spirituality out of this most family-centred of festivities. Make it a challenge to see how much warmth and laughter you can create with as little cash as possible. This issue is devoted to helping you do this.
And thank your lucky stars no-one’s giving you the Chanel tote this Christmas! It would just make you look naff.
Happy real Christmas!
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The last of our eight unplanned puppies is about to head off for her new home. They have cost a fortune in time and puppy meat. We’ve spent hours clearing s*** and washing floors It’ll be a relief to see the back of them. And sad.
They’ve given us two priceless insights into our lives. First, if your days are too busy to stop and have a tug of war with a puppy or take it into your arms for a time-wasting, heart-warming cuddle then you need to re-evaluate your priorities. Second - when did any of us dreary adult humans last greet a new day with the sheer, tail-wagging delight with which they pour out of their pen on a cold, frosty morning?
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