My word, but it’s so exciting. Not only am I now a meditation zealot I’m also a spreadsheet convert. Single-handedly, fuelled only by beer, Mr Hg has performed a miracle. I merely watched in awe (also fuelled by beer which explains why there are two bottles of each brew).
This is the “before” picture. They are carefully arranged, by Mr Hg, in order of strength. Apparently this allows one better to appreciate each flavour since the less alcohol there is the more delicate the savour.
For the first time in my entire life I have an overall grasp of my finances. This is of course a shameful state of affairs, never having had even the most palsied plucking at the matter previously, but as with so many things it is better late than never. Spreadsheets are really really useful things, I’ve discovered, with their clever “add up all the numbers” functions.
They also demonstrate all the
essential bits of gorgeousness that make life worth living readily dispensable expenditures where savings can be made. (“Do I really have to cancel the Tate membership?” “Yes” says Mr Hg sternly. I didn’t tell him about, and he didn’t discover, my shameful coffee secret which, I have just this moment worked out, actually cost the same as ten Tate memberships over one year. Does that have to go too? It does? Sigh.) What also became clear was that therapy, at a staggering equivalent of six Tate memberships each month is my biggest single outgoing. Get well before going bankrupt seems to be the moral of this spreadsheet.
Some things are easier than others to let go. Why, for instance, did I feel weepy when cancelling the two papers and one comic a week we’ve been having delivered for the last several years? I can only speculate as to how I shall feel when the last capsule of coffee is in the machine. Maybe it will be fine and I shall embrace the neglected stove-top pot without a backward glance.
It is extraordinary, and I find it shocking, that even at the cheapest outlet Maizy’s favourite dog treats cost £13.00 per kg compared to, say, parmesan cheese which weighs in at a mere £10 per kg. However rather than giving her cheese I could always try the snacks-for-humans produced by the same company which are a mere £3.50 per kg.
And the beer? Mr Hg, who is very tall and has hollow legs, got through all five of the different brews. I, who am neither tall nor hollow, managed three out of five which was pretty good going.
The Abbot ale was rather disappointing after the Bateman’s XXXB which was delicious. The Brakspear Triple was truly nectariferous as well as being loony juice at 7.2% ABV. I drank mine the next day and had to go for an extended rest afterwards.