May 1st!

The months have flown by, I didn't think I would pick up this blog again. Hello!

Nothing has changed and everything has changed. I've needed a good long break from everything to sit with my thoughts and reevaluate my life - which is a good habit in this day and age, isn't it? We are constantly bombarded with advertising, 'influencers' and messages about who we should be from so many quarters.

Internally so much has changed - I've rediscovered bits of myself that I had forgotten existed, or that I found terribly inconvenient to acknowledge as I was trying to make my way in the adult world. After a deep dark brooding winter of the soul (coinciding with the deep dark winter of the year, just to add to the grimness) I've started to flourish again, rooted in my own hard fought  battles, needs, wants and values. And now I need my lifestyle to reflect those changes.

Out: fear, choices rooted in fear, stinginess, drab white austerity, clutter, constant second guessing, other people's opinions and values, flightiness.

In: joy; choices rooted in joy; (joyful, earth friendly, creative) thrift; colour; an organised cosy home; self confidence; self advocacy; peace and quiet; raucous fun; consistency; worthy goals. Also, some flowers, whiskey and cake would be nice occasionally ; )

I'm raring to go, but the changes to be made are so numerous that it feels overwhelming! And so I'll write about my struggles and triumphs here, in the hope that it will help me as much my 1st blog did, all those years ago.

Back to Frugality

It felt like autumn would never arrive but the soft greyness outside my window suggests that it's here, and I'm delighted. Summer 2018 has been very long and very hot.

We spent almost two weeks of our summer camping, something of an endurance event with young children, fun but exhausting. The second week we cheated, we slept in a tent but had full use of the facilities in the house. The luxury option.

In complete contrast, the first week was spent at a small off grid camp site, a secluded pitch in the woods. Perhaps it was because we were back in my home county, but everything about it was completely enchanting. I began to remember things about myself long buried in the noise of plugged in city living.

We woke up with the sun every morning. The kids picked blackberries for their porridge and we ate that same breakfast every day. We foraged firewood. We swam in the sea. We used the composting toilet and had 'navy' showers to conserve the tiny amounts of propane heated water.  I stretched the clean clothing through the week and cooked everything one-pot. I made a single phone charge last 6 days.

It was an exercise in barebones living and conserving resources - and I loved it. I vowed that I would bring the experience back home with me. And then I got back to my regular routine, and also burned through the budget for school supplies, birthday parties and social activities.

I've felt discombobulated by it all. I know that that's not how I want to live; and I know that it doesn't make me happy. And so things need to change. 

A word for 2018

It's February, and past the halfway point at that! I hope that the year is treating you well.

We spent the past week in the Peak District. My southern bones were wearied by the cold, and my East Anglian soul leary of the altitude, but the blue skies and quiet landscape pulled together by snow were a soothing winter tonic.

There were vegan options everywhere to fortify me against the cold, so that helped. I find that tea and cake helps in most situations.

Whilst away, I finished reading my first book of 2018, If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie. Part autobiography, part eulogy to Celtic myth and legend, and part self help book; I picked it up on a whim expecting it to not be my cup of tea. Instead, I've spent much of the week reevaluating my place in the world and all that I have forgotten.

Rootedness. It is something that I need, something that I have had fleeting grasp of in the past. I've seen rooted people, confident and complete - I'd like to be like them. On my travels I have seen peoples truly rooted in place - rarely in Britain. We have lost much of our native lore, flora, fauna, landscape, community, skills and sustainable ways of being in the world. I would like to recover that.

And so this is my word for 2018. Rootedness. It's already taken root within me and has me questioning everything. What's your word for the coming year?

Hallow

It's the (actual) most wonderful time of the year! Our neighbourhood is so welcoming and cheerful on halloween night, all of the children are out; and a good number of people dress up, open their doors and hand out goodies.

This year has been a mixed bag for me. I left a job I hated, the initial relief of which was quickly subsumed by the cloyingness of full time domestic life. Anxiety and depression followed, and it has only been the past couple of months I've managed to break free, hence the extended blogging break.

Autumn is a great time for fresh starts - everything is slowing down. There is time to tie up loose ends and to make new plans, to build up reserves of energy for new projects; and plentiful opportunity for eating pumpkin soup and sweets and toffee apples - so that is what I plan to do.

Autumn is here!

I'm back, just in time for autumn:

I really wanted to write something, I did, but I've been struggling to find the words quite frankly, or at least words that will be interesting enough to publish.

The past few years I've undergone massive personal changes, mostly good and needed ones. I'm a very different person to the young mum that started her first frugal and simple living blog seven years ago. I've cut out so much deadwood these past few years - clutter, activities and ideas about the world - I'm gradually deciding which seeds to plant in their place. Cutting out the Internet chatter has been wonderful for this - its hard to decide what you want and what is important when you are bombarded by 'influencers' and other peoples opinions and lifestyles all day. I thoroughly recommend unplugging once in a while.

September always brings me around to fresh starts. The temptation to abandon this blog and start over is strong, but I'm resisting my inbuilt fickleness and perfectionism. This place needs a fresh lick of paint and some new category tags, which I'll work on over the next few weeks. I have plenty of ideas to work with, I just need to get back in the swing of things.

Stew and dumplings for dinner - it feels like a storm is coming. I love this time of year.

Chillin' Tuesday

I'm almost fully recovered from my organisational meltdown. I'm back on a system and things are working well. I have a weekly plan to do certain tasks on certain days; and life is starting to run smoothly again.

I used to think that housework was a never ending chore and even though I had a lot of downtime due to procrastination, I never got to just relax. I always felt guilty for the things that I should be doing. Now even if the house is a sty, I know that I have a system and a schedule in place to deal with it. I still feel a little guilt, but it's lessening. I never thought sticking to a routine would be so freeing.

I've set aside Tuesday as my free 'day'. All of the kiddos are out at school, so I do my daily chores and the rest of the day is mine until school's out. It's taken me years to come around to the idea that I can take time off, but I'm just a better person when I do. The kids generally follow my lead and if I am calm, relaxed and happy I can respond to them as such.

Unfortunately yesterday was such an odd day weatherwise, alternating wet and biting with dry and mild all day, I stayed in for most of it.

I started rereading this book, one of my absolute favourites:

Written during the great depression, it always gets me out of a thrift-induced deprivation funk. And speaking of orchids:

Mr PL once rescued this one for 50p from the yellow sticker pile, it was in a sorry state. This is its 3rd year of flowering. I can have orchids on my budget.
 
I drank unholy amounts of tea and ate an unhealthy amount of coffee cake:



In the afternoon I risked the elements and took myself off to my local yarn store:

Lots of bright colours and greys, the picture doesn't do them justice.

And that was that.

Beachcombing - it's not what it used to be

Another trip to our lovely local beach, another haul of plastic crap degraded by the sun in the churn of the Solent. Today I found a small bag washed up and proceeded to fill it with wrappers and lids and straws, broken toys and polystyrene. Beer caps seem to be numerous now too, perhaps a downside of the craft-beer trend?

I can't walk past this stuff anymore; at the same time completely aware that my efforts are a drop in the ocean. I usually try to take 3 for the sea; and I obviously don't litter. But despite past zero-waste aspirations, our household still purchases single use plastics; and the kids receive generous loads of Cheap Plastic Crap ^TM throughout the year.

And at the same time that I, one small person, feel completely powerless in the face of such terrible waste; I know that this one small straw that found its way into the ocean had such a devastating impact on this beautiful creature:

 

And I can have more impact than one small plastic straw, surely?

Preparing for economic shocks

There is a good chance that the UK will vote to leave the EU in a referendum next week. Nobody knows whether this will be a good or bad thing in the long run, though both sides have vocal opinions about it. The markets and currency exchanges are jittery. In the short term we are quite probably in for another round of economic shock.

This isn't just a Brexit issue however. Plenty of experts have warned that the can of worms that was the credit crunch wasn't truly dealt with - that it was just kicked further down the road. Many ordinary people suspect this - they have endured almost a decade of sluggish growth, stagnant wages, zero hours contracts and austerity. The 'recovery' seems to be another round of asset bubbles ready to go pop.

In the run up to the referendum, I'm trying to get a few loose ends tied up. I've paid for next years school uniforms. We have made a few large purchases to finish our redecorating projects. The newly unfitted kitchen will be mostly complete next week:

Aside from that, my 'preparations' are just the things that have stood us in good stead through the economic turmoil of the past few years. Most of them are integral to a thrifty, simple life:

*Make sure all household paperwork is in order - in the event that we need to find alternative accomodation or switch banks at a moments notice, it's handy to know where everything is.

*Write a monthly budget - know what money is coming in and going out. It is much easier to find potential savings if you know where the money is going.

*Hold as little debt as possible - swap to lower rates of interest and pay it down as quickly as possible.

*Build up an emergency fund - several months income is the aim, but every little helps. I have been in situations where five pounds has been the difference between starving or eating for a week.

*Diversify savings - we hold several different accounts with different institutions in the event that one fails.

*Keep cash on hand - this is useful in domestic emergencies, and useful in the event of a repeat of Northern Rock.

*Keep and up-to-date CV.

*Stock up the pantry - we did this in the run up to the credit crunch when preparing for the arrival of our first child. Food prices (in the shops, not in the inflation indexes) rocketed, and we  saved several hundred pounds by stocking up. We also didn't have to worry about finding money for food in the event that maternity pay didn't stretch far enough. 

*Learn to live well on less - this is all about mindset. A healthy approach to needs and wants; a very healthy resistance to advertising and peer pressure; the curiosity to learn new skills; and the creativity to make a good life with less material resources.

After all that is done, I think you are as prepared as you can be. 

On the subject of the referendum, Martin Lewis wrote a great little guide about how - not why or which way - you should make your decision.You can read it here.

Taking back the power (however small)

Another day, another climate change milestone is reached, according to this article in the Guardian. On top of the violence and hatred of the past few days, things aren't looking so rosy out there.

My commitment to making lifestyle changes to mitigate our environmental impact wavers daily. Anything I do is a drop in the ocean - even in my own household, I am the one who cares the most - and I know that there are people out there who care less than my nearest and dearest. I go through phases of being engaged, actively trying to reduce our household footprint, signing petitions and trying to talk to others about the issues we face. And then I just give up. My smallness in the face of such enormity inevitably leads to despondency.

This is of course a ridiculous attitude when applied to almost any other moral dilemma. My reponse to the terror, hatred and bloodshed of the past couple of days isn't to stop trying to be a kind person and a good citizen and join in because 'it's going to happen anyway'. I didn't 'give in to inevitability' and join a hooligan firm, I didn't head for my nearest LGBT bar and unleash devastation and hatred because 'I'm just one person so my being kind doesn't matter'. I don't lose sight of all the people who care, blindly convinced that a vocal minority in a comments section are instead a powerful majority.

Why? Because I know my actions have consequences and I'm not an arsehole (at least intentionally) - and, of course, because there are clear personal benefits to being kind and peaceful too, though as with anything they come at a cost. Because I want to live in a world that encourages kindness and all that is good in the face of hatred and fear - and I know that I can change only myself.

My environmental impact may be negligible in the scheme of things - and yet it isn't so neglible that the citizens of  most of the countries of the world don't undercut it by a longshot. My actions contribute to devastating consequences. There are clear personal benefits to cutting my own carbon and environmental footprint, though as with anything they come at a cost. I want to live in a world that encourages ecological resilience and all that is green and good in the face of destruction and economic imperative - and I know that I can change only myself.

There is only one thing more depressing than facing seemingly insurmountable problems; and that is to give away your power completely, to take no action, however small it may be, in the face of those seemingly insurmountable problems - financial, personal or global. And this is the lesson I need to remember, whenever I give up 'being green' in a fit of despondency.

I'm going to spend this week looking for ways to reduce our household footprint further. Lists make everything better.

Learning from the past, not living there

This week I I stumbled upon season 1 of Home Fires. Of course, I caught onto it just as season 2 is finished and ITV have announced that they will not be commissioning a further series.

Set at the advent of WW2, the story revolves around the lives of members of a rural Women's Institute branch. It's beautifully cosy to watch - whilst not romanticising the war or the social realities of that era. There's death, classism, violence, misogyny and white collar crime - just like the good old days, just like now.

I have little time for period dramas that revolve around aristocrats and their antics (though they provide a cautionary tale for the rest of us should we feel like conceding the democratic concessions that we have). Instead I find stories and documentaries that focus on the social history of the common people particularly interesting, because often they show how people made happy lives with far fewer inputs of energy, material goods and entertainment options than we have today. There is plenty to be learned about living lower impact, thriftier and more sustainable lives by looking at how ordinary people got along in the past.

We face many challenges going forward - economic instability, climate change and resource depletion; and if some experts are to be believed, total environmental collapse - which is as frightening a prospect as world war on your doorstep. One of the lessons of history is that it isn't in fact a linear march of relentless progress and growth. I suspect that we need that vintage know-how more than ever, cautionary tales and all.