New Shopping Regime

I don’t do the bulk of the fruit and veg shopping these days. I worked out that when I drove up to Seaton Delaval every 3 or 4 weeks I tended to buy a lot to save going up there again too soon (petrol is currently £112.9 per litre). I’d aim to go every 2-3 weeks at most and would spend £15-20 each trip. Then it would be a race to eat all the food before it became too sad. Of course I froze anything we weren’t going to manage, rather than throw it away, and it does get used, but we prefer to cook from fresh as much as possible. 
 

It occurred to me that, being over 60, Bill could go into Newcastle on the Metro for free and could shop at Grainger Market, where the prices are very competitive.  Well, the bus is free; an annual Metro pass costs all of £12 for senior citizens. He often takes his bike on various excursions as well, but prefers not to carry heavy loads, as it isn’t as much fun. Also, he just bought a bright yellow 2002 Tour de France cycling top; carrying a backpack of veg just doesn’t fit that image, does it? He seems to spend about £10 to fill his backpack and shops about three out of four Fridays.
 

Bill is perfectly competent to buy useful things in sensible quantities. I make the point of saying this as I know not everyone is; Jane knows what I’m talking about. His reward is that he stops to enjoy a pasty from Gregg’s while he’s out. I tell him if we need anything specifically, e.g., tomatoes for my salad lunches, onions which we use constantly or an aubergine for a recipe I’m going to try. I leave the rest to him and then get a pleasant surprise when I put away the shopping. Knowing he will be going most Fridays -- he cut his hours back to 4 days a week about a year ago -- he doesn’t buy as much and the fridge is less crammed. If I ask him to check specific prices, eg for salmon steaks, he will bring that information – and sometimes the fish - home. 

The downsides are that that Grainger Market shops don’t give receipts and so I don’t know the specific price per unit (pound or kilo) that he pays for things and so can’t directly compare, but my impression is that the food bill is slightly lower all the same and of course the transport cost is nil. I also miss seeing the very cheerful women who work up at the Seaton Delaval shop, but Jane and Chris will be coming to visit next month and we’ll go up and buy the 25 kilogram (55 pound) bag of potatoes for the very silly price of £3-4. It will be nice to have potatoes again. 

We've yet to empty the pantry, though admittedly I've re-stocked a few items we use routinely.  As we run out of anything, it goes on a list.  When we start to run out of anything critical, like milk, then I go to the supermarket and do my best to only buy what is on that list.  We’ll try this new routine for a few months and see how it goes.

One shock I did receive after using up all the honey, which I like on my toast in the mornings, was that the price had rocketed up.  I seem to remember reading about sticker shock being one of the side effects of frugality.  I'd heard that bee populations were struggling to find habitat, but as our gardens are full of them, I wasn't too worried; I wasn't quite ready to believe that all the other bees had dropped dead in the last month.  The store brand was now £5.53 instead of £2/kg.  I bought the generic 'mixed fruit jam' (£1.12/kg) instead.   Luckily, the old generic honey reappeared on my next shopping trip, so I get to enjoy honey again.  The jam isn't bad, so I may buy that occasionally as well.  Though I am a creature of habit and have my preferences, I'm not averse to having a variety of things at breakfast time.

I think Bill enjoys this new shopping task, not to mention the pasty, and I enjoy him bringing home surprises. Funny how such small things entertain us.

Last of the Women in Italy

These are the younger ones, in case you thought there weren't any women under 50 over there.

As usual, my photos are from odd angles.  

 

For example, the woman in brown was not the subject, it was the one in front of her dressed in black top, capri-length leggings and sandals.  Over it all she had a sheer black jacket the same length as the leggings and it struck me how the jacket made it all seem less casual.

Whereas the girl with the black leggings and the purple print top/dress had added a black knit shawl.  I couldn't wear a black knit shawl, but it looked great on her.

On the boat in Venice, the woman in purple 

had been shopping and was determinedly colour coordinated.

In Genoa, the couple at the table were probably work colleagues, all very serious in black until I spotted those electric blue shoes.  

I loved the prints these two women were wearing.

And Bill was very pleased to have spotted a photographic session in progress with that poor young woman rolling around on the concrete.  

You may not be able to see it, but if she is the coming fashion, extra large mesh fishnet stockings will be 'in' as well as fishnet...?arm warmers?  Better her than me...

Frugal Food

This is the title of a book by Delia Smith that Bill bought me a couple of Christmases ago, but I've yet to use.  Delia Smith is a household name here in Britain, sort of like Julia Child in the US, only I haven't heard of a movie being made about her yet.

The book is updated from the first publication that came out in 1976 when apparently times were hard here in Britain.  The current book makes comparisons with those days and comments on the changes in food legislation, availability of a wider range of foods, etc.  In some ways it's a history book as well as a recipe book, so you know I really do like it in spite of not having put it to the test.

We've made two foraging forays into our blackberry patch so far this month.  The old muddy path under the overpass has been paved now and so many others may have become aware of the blackberries to be had.  Nevertheless we came away this second time with a big enough supply that it's going to have to get used as the freezer won't take much more.  Hence, I pulled out Delia's book.  I won't mess with the copyright issues, but will instead refer you to her website where she's published a rhubarb cheesecake recipe.  You can substitute the same amount of blackberries for the rhubarb and come out with pretty much the same recipe as in her book.  (For digestive biscuits - I've always thought that sounded disgustingly medicinal - read graham crackers, close enough).

On her website, Delia talks about having bought something from Elizabeth David, of whom I'm in absolute awe.  I looked to see what she had to say about blackberries and she suggests they be served with 'geranium cream'.  I think I might be in over my head there...

Some of My Friends are Insane

Some friends of ours were involved a few months ago in doing the Bob Graham Round.  I'd never heard of it and until I collected some articles for a newsletter I edit, I didn't appreciate what was involved.   

This is basically a fell running race with the clock, over 42 peaks totalling about 18,000 feet, and ranging between 62 and 72 miles.  You choose some aspects of your route, or maybe this is to do with varying GPS measurements.  This has to be completed within 24 hours in order to qualify for club membership.  Of course that means that for part of the race, you'll be running up (and down) mountains in the dark; this makes the longest day in late June a very popular date to choose.  Joining the club entitles you to a group get-together for dinner.  Every other year.  There has to be an easier way to get a social life, I say.

© Map courtesy of the Bob Graham 24 Hour Club

Colin and friends spent their weekends for months in the Lake District doing reccy, finding pacers sufficiently fit to keep up, planning strategy and the logistics of food and clothing.  Some areas need road shoes, other require fell shoes.  Someone had to do the 'ungodly hour' part to supply food and such in the middle of the night.  He'd planned to do it last year, but things fell through.  However, it all finally came together this year.  Colin did it in 23 hours and one minute.   

I wonder if it niggles him, that one minute.  I've heard many a marathon runner regret going over the aimed for hour by a few seconds.  Colin is quoted as having said at the end, "Never again."

In my experience it's usually best never to say 'Never'.  If he's crackers enough to do it once, I'm guessing there's at least half a chance he'll do it again.

Not so Sweet FA

It was in the early 1990s that I discovered the Tightwad Gazette newsletters and from them 







Joe Dominquez’ book, Your Money or Your Life, that gave me the dream of retiring early. I never quite grasped the business of buying and selling U.S. treasury bonds though, and indeed 30-year treasury bonds were withdrawn at the time I would have begun investing. My parents’ deaths however, had left me with 2 small houses in Oklahoma City and, having been handed rental property, this became the basis of my retirement plans.

When I moved from Oklahoma City to Salt Lake City, I bought a house there.  I bought it on the basis of being in a good neighbourhood, convenient to work and within my means.  Property values were rising fast and I saved hard to get onto the ladder as soon as I could.  When I moved to England I didn't know how long I might  stay and so kept the Salt Lake City house in case I needed to return.  I applied the same rationale to buy a house in England.   My first financial goals were to pay off those mortgages, which I did. After that I wasn’t sure what to do with my extra income. The media was full of stories about Independent Financial Advisors, possibly because of the new government agency that had been formed, called the Financial Services Authority, which supposedly regulated financial institutions.

*Not to be confused with the Food Standards Agency, another new organization after the food and mouth demise of MAFF – Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Fisheries. It’s acronym city over here, don’t you know.

Anyhow, I saw a story in the local paper, which I later realized was actually an advert, about an advisor whose office was conveniently across the road from my office and so I rang him. I understood that I should want an advisor who charged fees, rather than one who got commissions, and on the phone he said he charged £50 a month for unlimited consultations. I thought I could cope with that for a while and so made an appointment. 

The first warning should have been that, once in his office, the fee became £100 a month. Being a wimp and keen for advice I went along with it, but mentally assigned him a black mark. He gave me a sort of lecture, listing all the things we would deal with and I took copious notes. He sent me away with about a 30-page form to complete, which gathered information about my income and expenses, all my assets, my relationships, insurance policies, everything you could think of with a financial basis. It was almost as bad as completing a US tax return, but also illuminating. The questionnaire asked several times about whether I had views about ethical investments and I always indicated I wanted ethical investments, though I wasn’t sure what this meant.

At the next visit, he reviewed my information form, gave me roughly the same lecture and said we would consider investments at my next visit. These visits were about a week or two apart, so I did feel I was getting reasonable use of his time in exchange for the fee, and if it was slow going, I was learning a lot and being exposed to new ideas. It felt like I was taking big steps, which was what I wanted. I felt I needed to move my financial knowledge forward significantly. Unfortunately, it was about this point that he mentioned I likely should have paid tax to the UK for my US rental income. I had never heard this in the 10-11 years I’d been here, but granted I didn’t ring up the Inland Revenue and ask, either. I didn’t know any other Americans in my position, or any Brits with rental property for that matter. The UK takes most taxes at source, from your paycheck and from your savings accounts. Filing an annual form isn’t required for most people unless they are in the highest income brackets…or have different sources of income. The financial advisor recommended an accountant firm to me and I followed up immediately. The short version of a sad story is that I ended up paying £28,000 in taxes and penalties, which wiped out my savings account. It was painful and it brought home the fact that I would give the UK government 40% of any rental income I got for as long as my salary was as high.

My next appointment with the FA was for around the first of April. In the UK, the tax year runs from April to March, beginning something weird like the 6th of April. This means that any investments for the previous tax year have to be in place before the 6th. I’d not appreciated this properly, so that when he rang to ask if we could re-schedule that appointment, pleading that he was in the midst of exchanging contracts to buy a new house and it was proving very complicated and stressful, I readily agreed. 

In the UK there is a Roth Individual Retirement Account (IRA)-like investment called an Individual Savings Account, only Roth’s requires that the money have been earned and there isn’t this restriction on ISA’s. This can be a cash account or can be stocks and bonds. The interest or income is tax free (in the UK, anyhow) and you can withdraw from the accounts at any time, but you can only put in up to a certain amount for each year and if you don’t fill that amount it is lost and if you take it out it cannot be replaced. I figured I could go to any one of the banks that were offering ISA cash accounts and just take care of that myself. I found however that you couldn’t just walk in and give them money, at that time of year you had to make an appointment. Could I get an appointment at that late date anywhere? Of course not. I figured his cancelled appointment cost me a year’s ISA allocation, and that was the second black mark.

The accountants and HMRC (Her Majesty’s Revenues and Customs, part of which is the Inland Revenue) were still negotiating and calculating, so I still had money in savings. At our next appointment he started the standard lecture but, consulting my notes and seeing old ground, I moved him on. He suggested a stocks and bonds ISA for the new tax year, which I agreed to. The FA recommended buying from a certain brokerage company and disclosed that he would get a fee for directing the business to them. I was OK with that, except that the form required me to state that I was not an American citizen.  I pointed this out and the FA told me not to worry about that, just sign. No, I said, I can’t do that.

We had a most amazing ‘discussion’ where he explained that no one would know, I could sell the securities before I went back to the US, it was just a small formality, people signed this sort of thing all the time, it was how he was going to make me rich, I should leave it to him to make these decisions, etc, etc. and I explained that I was not willing to knowingly sign a false statement. Period. (Or, or full stop, as they say over here, apparently having blushing adolescent associations with the other term.) It went back and forth for about 30 minutes with him pulling out all his arguments and reassurances. Finally, he understood what ‘No’ meant. So, he pulled out another folder of brochures which paid him a slightly higher fee (See, you would have saved money, he said) but with no restrictions on citizenship. I gave him a check for the investment but walked out pretty shaken. This was the third black mark and by now I’d paid him about £300, plus he got an initial commission for the ISA and it turned out a further annual commission on top of that.

I decided that I was going to be done with this guy. Oh yeah, when he initially reviewed my financial information he’d noted that I was interested in ethical investments. I asked him what was defined as ‘ethical’ from this standpoint. He said it referred to certain categories of business, such as gambling, sex-related or environmentally damaging, but he laughed and told me if I was determined to avoid these I’d never make any money. He didn’t recommend sticking to ethical investments. When I inquired why his form asked on so many occasions about my preference for ethical investments when he didn’t believe in them, he simply replied that the Financial Services Authority required him to ask. Here I’d formed a cozy idea about his ideals and they were no such thing.  He said if I was going to 'go green' I'd never make any money!

So, I stopped my direct debit payments to the FA, stopped making appointments and when he rang I explained that I didn’t wish to continue doing business with him. I kept my notes, though, and did eventually write a will, another big item on the list. After leaving work, it made no sense to pay an accountant’s fees and I was already doing my own US tax returns, so I sat down and plowed through the UK forms and have done ever since. I figure I have death and taxes taken care of as much as I can at this point. I’ve continued opening ISA accounts each year, though I can’t always fill them and I still pay US tax on that income. I read about finance and economics as much as I can stomach and I think I absorb a certain amount.

I've formulated my own plan:

• Have enough in savings to cover my minimum living expenses until I can draw my UK work pension at 60, taking into account exchange rates and fees and inflation.
• After that, invest as much as I can bear to 'throw away' each month into index-linked stocks in an ISA; tax rates in the UK do more damage to my rental income than taxes in the US, where the property is located. 
• Continue to hone my frugal skills to live as cheaply as possible without sacrificing health or a good quality of life.

Where do you get your financial advice? 

American English Terms

As an American, I always assumed I spoke English, but it turns out that in fact I speak American.  Every now and then, someone will be taken with surprise at something I say or write and it is then that I realise I'm not speaking English, exactly.  


For example, I emailed someone the other day saying "If I had my druthers...".  They wrote back seemingly charmed at having learned a new word (but I still didn't get my way).  Bill is forever pointing out each time I use the word 'gotten' that this isn't English anymore, though Bill Bryson says in Mother Tongue that this term - as well as using 'fall' for autumn - was used in England in Elizabethan times.  


The other day I happened across a word I'd not seen in a while:  lollygagging.  I remembered what it meant; I'm pretty sure I heard this often as a child.  Nevertheless, upon re-acquaintance it struck me as an odd word, familiar though it was.  As to the origin, the links I could find were uncertain except that it is old, having been around for at least 150 years or so.  

Must try this one out in an email sometime soon, just to see what sort of response I get.  What sentence would you come up with to use the word lollygag?

 

Mom's Birthday

Gosh, it's Mom's birthday again already.  It took me a while to find a photo of her I'd not already used.  This one will have been taken sometime in the 1930s.  Looks like she enjoyed the funny papers as well!