Secret spending

It seems a surprising number of adults hide their purchases on things like beauty products, gambling and clothing from their partners as part of a pattern of secret spending.

A survey of 4000 adults showed that men on average spent £2545 without their partner's knowledge in the past year. Women spent an average of £1769.

The young are more secretive with their spending than older generations, with an average of £4303 in the past year. Those over 55 spent an average of just £384.

Jenny and I have never bought anything secretly, except presents to each other. We wouldn't dream of such sneaky behaviour. And we aren't embarrassed by anything we buy. I might think Jenny has been a bit extravagant, she might think the same about me, but secret spending never crosses our minds.

I think it says something negative about the nature of your relationship if you feel you can't be upfront about what you're buying. Especially if your secret purchases are so hefty that you're getting into alarming levels of debt that the other person doesn't know about.

How can you justify the secrecy?

PS: The figures above are mysterious. How are they compiled? Do people really remember every secret purchase they've made over the last year? And the exact price they paid? Or are the figures based on estimates?

Laptop tensions

People have mixed feelings about those individuals who use coffee shops as their office and tap away at their laptop for hours, oblivious to those customers who can't find a seat because they're occupied by the laptop brigade.

Journalist Emily Watkins is a staunch defender of WFCS (Working From Coffee Shops) though she thinks a lot of laptoppers abuse the coffee shops' indulgence by misbehaving in various ways.

She says they often linger for far too long (sometimes several hours), they spend the least amount possible, they talk on their phones, they use Zoom, and they stay put even when the coffee shop is full to bursting.

Whenever we go to our local Caffè Nero, there are always two or three people busy on their laptops and acting as though they're perfectly entitled to be there. And yes, it can be hard to find a vacant seat.

Some coffee shops, like Starbucks, are clamping down on the laptop workers and either banning them altogether, or imposing a strict time limit for being there, and charging them if they want to stay longer.

Most coffee shops lose out financially to laptop workers, as they tend to spend the bare minimum and usually a lot less than other customers.

Personally I think they should be banned from coffee shops altogether as they're not bona fide customers and wouldn't be tolerated in other shops. That may seem draconian but it's very simple - coffee shops aren't offices.

Secret pleasures

Kylie asked an interesting question in her last blog post. What are the guilty pleasures you spend money on and what do you definitely not spend money on?

She mentioned a Tik Toker whose guilty pleasures are manicures, coffees, magazines and uber eats.

Well, I'm not prone to guilt, so for me it's more a question of unhealthy or extravagant or secret pleasures. So what am I (or Jenny) spending less money on? Or no money at all?

• We're eating out less
• We never buy ready meals
• We only buy printed newspapers on Saturday and Sunday
• We don't buy scented candles or pointless knick-knacks
• We have no subscription services except Sky
• We hardly ever go to the theatre
• We hardly ever use taxis
• We don't have any pets
• We don't buy bottled water
• We have no extended warranties
• We don't belong to a gym
• We buy cheap books from the local charity bookshop
• I get a lot of books from the local library (for my book club)
• I don't have a smartphone, only a PAYG phone
• I don't have a camera
• I never buy designer clothes
• I never wear formal clothing
• I never wear a suit
• I never buy magazines
• And I've never had a manicure (or a pedicure)!

But I couldn't give up coffee, or chocolate, or ice cream, or the internet, or books, or music, or trips to the cinema, or holidays. Some things are just essential for my wellbeing.

I certainly wouldn't squander money on a luxury car, a second home, a swish barbecue set-up, cosmetic dentistry, or an exercise machine. Who needs them?

But above all we aren't the sort of people who rush to replace some household item or piece of clothing simply because it's no longer fashionable. We have a lot of things that are decades old and no longer remotely fashionable, but we're quite happy with them, and that's all that matters.

Shop till you drop

Apparently compulsive shopping is getting to be a big problem for a lot of people. They just can't stop buying things, whether or not they need them. Especially as the internet makes it easy to shop from your armchair.

That's one problem I'll avoid, for sure. I've always loathed shopping, and do it as little as I can. I never buy things on impulse and I never buy things online - except books. I buy only what I need and that's that.

I'm probably the opposite of the compulsive shopper - I'm a compulsive non-shopper. Any excuse not to go shopping and I'll seize it. That shirt will last a bit longer. I don't really need any more books. And I've quite enough stuff in the freezer.

My idea of hell would be spending an entire day at a shopping mall. But lots of people do that. Have they nothing better to do? Surely there's something more exciting than traipsing round shops looking for clothes?

I hate shopping for all sorts of reasons. It's hard to find what I want, in the size I want. Shop assistants are either surly and off-hand or over-attentive. I'm forced to listen to mindless musak. Or my favourite shop has closed and is now a Caffè Nero.

I've always been immune to adverts. I'm not tempted by rugged male models in Calvin Klein jackets or cut-price strawberry cheesecake from Sainsbury's. If I don't want them I'm not going to buy them. I tune out adverts like I tune out the football results.

So my wardrobe isn't full of unworn clothes I bought on impulse, and hated the moment I got home. There aren't dozens of unused kitchen gadgets gathering dust. And my credit card isn't permanently maxed out with reckless spending.

Less is more

Buying things is so normal we're quite used to our homes being crammed with pretty bits and pieces, the latest gadgets, twenty handbags and a mountain of paperbacks. But suppose you were limited to just 100 personal possessions?

An American couple dissatisfied with their hard-working, hard-spending existence decided to take up the "100 items" challenge and drastically reduce their huge stack of belongings.

Tammy Strobel, who worked long hours for an investment business, was so unhappy being "caught in the work-spend treadmill" that she resolved to totally change her lifestyle. Her husband Logan Smith, a doctoral student, decided to do the same.

They gave lots of their possessions to charity. They got rid of their TV. They got rid of their two cars and bought bikes. They moved to a smaller studio flat with less room for stuff. Eventually they reached the target of just 100 items each. And they say they really do feel happier.

The sudden brake on spending has led to other unexpected benefits. They've paid off debts of $30,000. They have more money to travel. Ms Strobel has changed her job and works fewer hours. And she has time to volunteer for a non-profit organisation.

I'm impressed by their determination and their ability to change their way of life so radically. A houseful of stuff may be unnecessary but for most of us it's cosy and familiar and reassuring. The thought of losing practically all of it would be most alarming. Particularly the hundreds of much-loved books and the fabulous paintings and all the CDs that are virtually glued to my ears.

A smaller home would be hard to adapt to as well, now I'm used to so much space to stretch out in. Jenny and I would once again be tripping over each other and intruding on each other.

I suppose it makes a difference that we've never been the sort to keep up with the Joneses. We buy things because we genuinely want them and think they'll genuinely improve our lives. Which means it would also be harder to part with them. So we won't be taking up the "100 items" challenge just yet. Less is not yet more.

PS: Some brave souls have even given up their homes and now base their lives entirely on a few bits of technology like laptops, iPads and Kindles.

Pic: Tammy Strobel and Logan Smith

Look no cash

Could you survive without money? We're so used to needing the stuff that our immediate reaction is probably no. But a guy near Bath in Somerset is doing just that - and he says it's a fantastic experience.

Mark Boyle makes his own soap and toothpaste and gets food by foraging, working or collecting leftovers. He runs his laptop off solar panels, uses a wood-burning stove for heating and travels around by bike. He lives in a caravan he found through Freecycle.

He gave up using money in November 2008 and says "It's been a fantastic experience. It's taught me a lot about myself. I've never been happier or fitter. I see no reason to go back to using money."

He says the only things he misses are going for a few pints with his mates or going out for a meal with his parents.

Mark's ability to do without money makes me realise just how used we are to spending huge amounts on what we see as the necessities of daily life and how the idea of doing without all those things seems totally absurd.

How could we possibly enjoy our lives without a proper home, central heating, exotic foods and 101 over-the-counter products? Not to mention books, music and sundry cultural fixes.

I couldn't possibly give up all those essentials, I'm far too accustomed to a cash-fuelled lifestyle. Mark's existence is way too spartan and self-reliant for my liking.

But I do think about the sheer scale of spending our modern lifestyles entail and how much of it is really necessary or life-enhancing as opposed to habitual and socially-prompted.

I'm sure we could all simplify our lives considerably without feeling too deprived or out-of-step. I must say I admire Mark's persistence and ingenuity. We all need to reappraise our engrained values occasionally, even if it doesn't lead to such a radical makeover.

See also the story of Joan Pick, whose ultra-abstemious existence aims to slash her carbon footprint to zero.