Anti-Shopping: An End To Spending

I have reached that stage in my life when I own more stuff than I know what to do with, an embarrassing proportion of which I have forgotten that I have. There is the occasional squeal of delight as some forgotten treasure, or especially poignant piece of memorabilia comes to light:Marylyn's baby shoes, silk flowers from a chocolate box,a whistle I confiscated from the naughtiest boy I ever taught. (Darren Gibbons. 1988/89) 

On Saturday, Ray and I went shopping for a sofa, as the one I am lounging on to write this, is seriously compromised by the snapping of a third of its supporting wooden slats. First stop, the Emmaus outlet near the old Drill Hall in Tredworth. Nothing suitable there, but we did succeed at the Furniture Recyclying Depot: a fabulous green corner unit in sea green, for £60. An multi-colour African throw completes the look. 

Whilst browsing around the shops I invented a brand-new shopping experience for the seriously over endowed (with stuff!) who nevertheless love the thrill of acquisition. Anti-shopping. 

Anti-shopping works like this. You browse your favourite outlets and spot things you would LOVE to own. You make a note of the price and keep a tally. At the end of the session you can tot up how much you haven't spent, and use the money for a treat that doesn't sit gathering dust at the back of the cupboard.  I saved £250 by anti-buying a bread maker, a deep-fat fryer and a fireside rug.

I shall use the savings to enjoy a Spa Day with my friend Jeanette.

I have yet to persuade the family financier of the legitimacy of this exercise, but that, I think, is just a matter of time.