Day 113: Retail Therapy

Even as I write, I am snuggled up in my new long-sleeved thermal top.  It is soft and cosy and gorgeous, and teamed with my equally new fluffy dressing gown, I am a whole lot happier about facing winter now.

But whence this sudden wealth?  I have been saving up a couple of Marks and Spencer vouchers that kind people gave me for my birthday back in July.  With winter in mind even then, I have been very carefully not spending them.  But today it was time!

It is four months since I have been shopping.  I don't mean trips to Lidl or occasional wanders into a charity shop.  I mean proper clothes shopping.  Even just strolling around Marks and Spencer's lingerie department was a real treat.  I miss clothes.  I miss shoes.  I was never particularly extravagant clothes-wise before this year, but I could at least indulge myself here and there.

So today I spent £40 worth of vouchers on two thermal vests and a dressing gown.  Good and happy purchases.  But I averted my eyes from the party clothes on my way out.

Day 107: A Stitch in Time

Is there any implement more useful to the frugalist than a needle and thread? 

This week it is buttons.  Upon digging out my winter coat, I remembered belatedly that a button had fallen off last February.  Although I did not have the foresight to do the actual stitch in time, I did at least have the foresight to store said button in the coat pocket.  Then my light raincoat decided to shed a button today as well, so I clearly need to set aside half an hour for a couple of repairs.

I was brought up by a mother who is highly skilled in all areas of needlework.  Having very little money back when we were children, she used to sew and knit all our school uniforms and a goodly proportion of our clothes as well.  There is a highly embarrassing photo of me and my sisters, all in identical green nylon trousers and hand-knitted green tank tops (sweater vests).  But hey - it was the 70s - I think we can cut my mother a bit of slack.  And they were very well made trousers and tank tops!

Despite producing two daughters whose abilities tend more towards the cerebral than the practical (the third daughter, my younger sister, combines the two superbly), Mother has at least succeeded in passing on some basic skills to her offspring.  But despite her best efforts, my ability does not extend far beyond the button-sewing-on level. 

So while it is a shame that I cannot save money by making my own clothes (!!), I can at least look after the ones I've got.  I can sew on a button, repair small rips in seams, and have even been known to darn a woollen glove.  Mother also darns the toes of her nylon stockings and tights, which extends their lives quite considerably.  As I have said before, I think my toes wreck the knee-highs too much even to attempt to mend them - but I confess that is often because I have not done a more immediate repair. 

I am therefore resolving, even as I write this, to be more truly my mother's daughter this week.  I shall lay out all my winter wardrobe and make sure it is mended and fit to wear.  If I am super organised, I may even be able to do the same for the summer wardrobe before packing it away for the next few months.  But that, I suspect, is very wishful thinking indeed.  I am constantly oppressed by my good intentions.

Day 40: The Least Sexy Item of Clothing Ever

... but the most practical.  Yes, it's the popsock!  (This one may be for the ladies.)

If we were to rank items of nylon hosiery in order of attractiveness, then clearly the stocking would come out at the top by a very very long margin.  The other two main possibilities are huddled pretty closely together at the bottom.  But as even a prison has its hierarchy, so too can we say with confidence that the order goes thusly: firstly tights/pantyhose, and then finally, occupying the position usually held by the thug who beat up his own granny, the knee high popsock.

This Is Not Real Life, Chaps

There was indeed a time in my youth when I wore stockings.  But, sorry as I am to destroy a myriad of fantasies, the suspender belt (garter belt) you need for most stockings is not the attractive item it purports to be.  You know these lingerie models?  They have only just put the thing on!  Wear it to actually walk anywhere, and as the stockings slip down, the darned belt gets pulled down below your tummy.  This is particularly unattractive if you have anything other than washboard abs, for even a little tummy poking out over the top of a suspender belt is Not a Good Look. The  'hold-up' kind of stocking is no solution, but is even worse.  They either fail to work completely, often at a very inconvenient moment, or they grip your leg so tightly as to cut off the circulation and introduce a livid red indentation to your upper thigh.  And then the bulge above the hold-up makes for particularly nasty chaffing. 

Hence the general preference for tights/pantyhose.  Much more practical and comfortable, but - and this is crucial - particularly useless under trousers.  The trousers pull them down, and they are far too hot.  All of which leaves the popsock.  A horrid garment on its own, but practical and comfortable under trousers, and in that context indistinguishable from the other two options. Only close inspection of the kind that most people do not get to make, would reveal it for what it is.  Ladies in relationships just have to manage this as best they can.

A creditable attempt by M&S
here to make them look sexy

In my work, I have to maintain a professional appearance, so it is usually the popsock-and-trousers combo for me.  (Never, never, never wear popsocks with a skirt, even a long one!)  This can work out surprisingly expensive, as my big toes have a habit of poking through.  If laddering does occur, then it is well to keep a bottle of clear nail varnish to hand.  Also, my mother is happy to darn the toes of her tights, and the Frugalist ought to do so too.  But sometimes the damage even after just one wearing is too great for salvage.

Obviously, keeping the toenails trimmed is one important frugality procedure.  The other is simply to locate the cheapest kneehighs available.  So far, the best deal I have found on the high street is in Marks and Spencer, where you can get a packet of 5 for £2.50.  This is a lot of money for what is essentially a disposable item, but considering that you can easily spend £4 on a pack of three, this isn't bad going.  But if anyone has spotted any cheaper ones, then do let me know.

Here endeth the hosiery lesson.  I hope it has not been too traumatic.  ;)

Total Daily Expenditure: £6.10

Day 35: Handkerchiefs

Oh dear.  I was without internet access for a few days there, as my holiday base changed to Oxford.  I shall try to catch all the posts up at some point (completion being important here), but if I stress too much, I will just fall further behind.  So now that I am home again, I figure that it is best to leap ahead a few days and plunge back in with the day-to-day stuff - which is of more practical relevance anyway.

Today's topic is handkerchiefs.  Initially, the paper variety.  These are nice and handy and clean and disposable - and can cost over £2 per box.  I can easily go through a box every two to three weeks, so this is a nasty expense, and one which I always resent.  Loo roll makes a cheap alternative, but it is not something one can really use in public without a certain loss of professionalism.  It is hard to look competent while pulling a trail of tissue paper from your bag like a conjuror hauling on a chain of sausages. 

Yet I can recall a time in my childhood when we knew of no such thing as a paper hankie.  Instead, there was a drawer in the kitchen in which was kept any amount of neatly ironed and folded handkerchiefs, from my father's mansize sheets to dainty little embroidered affairs.  They were also a common gift from aunts and grandmothers, and occasionally made rather dull appearance in a Christmas stocking. 

Obviously, the cotton handkerchief has considerable disadvantages compared to the paper version.  With apologies for grossness, I do recall them becoming a little crusty from time to time.  Also, soft though they were, they were not soft enough to avoid a sore and cracked nose when in the throes of a headcold.  (The 'balsaam' paper handkerchiefs really do work when you have a cold, and are well worth the investment on such occasions, even though they are heartbreakingly expensive.) 

But otherwise, the cotton handkerchief is much the superior product.  Not only is it washable and reuseable, but it doesn't fall to pieces at the bottom of your bag, and besides, is so much more elegant.  One can even add a dab of scent, or some menthol when the tubes are blocked.  A pack of a dozen plain white ones can be found on Amazon or ebay for around £10, and if you don't mind a slightly twee design, you can even buy a dozen for £2.99 (though look out for postage and packing).  This is a cost that will pay itself back very rapidly indeed.

Alternatively, do what I am currently doing, and keep an eye open in charity shops.  People still get them as presents, and then seem to have no use for them and give them away still in the box.  (Even in the throes of the most enthusiastic frugality, I would not stoop to buying second hand handkerchiefs!)  I picked up a couple of very pretty ones in Oxford for £1.75, and intend having a good look for more tomorrow.

So I shall save the paper handkerchiefs for times of real need, and enjoy the return to the proper recyclable hankies of my childhood.  I may even keep one up my sleeve!

Day 14: Things that have worked!

Yes, it is report-back time.  I have previously detailed in these pages a couple of little experiments I have been conducting, and enough time has now elapsed that I can report on their results.

First of all, the Smelly Shoes Experiment.  If you recall Day 10, I dusted these with Bicarbonate of Soda, and then froze them.  Result = Success!  When they came out of the freezer, they were practically odour-free.  Having worn them since (without stockings), they have regained a certain fragrance, but nothing like before.  I am therefore predicting that this is a process I will need to repeat at intervals.  But at least it works.

However, there is one downside.  When one puts one's bare feet into bicarb-dusted shoes, and then one's feet proceed to sweat as usual, the result is that the sweat mixes with the bicarb residue to form something of a paste.  This paste then dries to one's feet, so that upon extracting them from the shoes, they are encrusted with an unpleasant-looking white substance.  What is more, this white substance renders the soles of one's feet really rather slippery when stepping into the shower. 

But what ho!  A minor problem afflicting the first day of wear only. 

Secondly, the Soup Pot Experiment.  Back on Day 5, I described how my book of rationing recipes contained a recipe for a kind of continuous stock pot, consisting of various root vegetables and bacon rind.  The idea was to bring it to the boil every day and take out whatever stock you needed.  It looked like it was meant to last several days, if not actually be continuously replenished.

Result= Success.  At least, if one defines success as no onset of what we shall euphemistically call "tummy troubles".  (Which seems like a pretty sound definition of 'success' to me.)  After chopping and freezing all the bacon bits, I stuck the quite copious amounts of rind  in a pot with a bit of onion, and boiled it up.  I did this for the next four days: boiling it briefly and then letting it cool.  I didn't even refrigerate it in between, but just left it sitting on the cooker.  Then yesterday I used it.  First, I skimmed off what little fat there was: it is now in the fridge and will be used later for frying or pastry.  (I understand this fat pretty much lasts indefinitely.)  And then I strained it and used the entire stock to make lentil soup.  It needed a fair amount of extra salt, and I probably should have added some bacon bit to the soup as a whole, but basically, it worked.  The soup was healthy, and so am I.

Success indeed. :D

My next experiment is to see if I can't make my own washing powder, which means tracking down some rather strange ingredients according to a recipe I have found online.  It will also be telling if the end result is cheaper or not than a decent brand-name powder.  Has anyone else out there ever done this?

Today's Expenditure: £0.00

Day 10: Smelly Shoes

Just a quick post today.  On an unpleasant topic.

My shoes stink.

It's my own fault. They were a cheap pair, obviously very synthetic.  But they are neat and professional-looking, and have been very comfortable.  And that is a rare thing for me, because I have appallingly awkward feet: a seriously high instep combined with what my mother calls 'hammer toes', and an extra-wide fitting.  (I also have double-jointed big toes, but that's another story.)  Long ago I resigned myself to spending over-the-odds on shoes, because the alternative is such a false economy.  But this pair was an exception to the rule.

So I have been wearing them fairly constantly over the last couple of months.  With nylon stockings.  Now the smell has got to the point that when I take them off, it fills the room.

The Heroic and Humble Bicarb

Now, buying a new pair is not an option.  Even a pair of insoles costs money - though it may yet come to that.  So I have been seeking solutions.  My first attempt has been bicarbonate of soda (baking soda).  I use this already to keep the fridge smell-free, and it seems to work.  (Just sit an open tub in a corner of the fridge.)  So yesterday I sprinkled a teaspoon in each shoe and swished it around.

And d'y'know, it seems to be working.  At least, it is working a little bit.  The smell no longer fills the surrounding airspace.  But close up (i.e., nose in shoe), and it is still pretty rank.

Something more drastic was clearly needed.  So I did some googling, and was gratified to see that my first instinct of Bicarbonate of Soda was a good one.  The other suggestion I found was to freeze the shoes for a few days in order to kill the bacteria that make the smell.  It sounds sensible - a few days in a freezer would kill me as well. Therefore, my shoes are currently in a plastic carrier bag and lurking in the bottom drawer, the frozen bacon bits having first been transferred.  I can hang around in my sandals for a few days, this being summer and all.

The ideal result will be entirely smell-free.  But I will settle for mildly musty.  And if anyone has any other suggestions, please let me know.

Total Daily Spend = £0.00