The value of being able to say no

I've been reminded this week of the importace of something referred to on some blogs as "FU money". It's pretty self-explanatory - it's about not living paycheck to paycheck, but having an emergency fund that means you are able to step back from a job when you need to.

A friend of mine is struggling at work. The long hours and unreasonable demands are pushing them to their limits, leaving them stressed, sleep deprived and utterly drained. It's a vaguely familiar spectre, reminding me of my time in consultancy where - however interesting the work and fun the colleagues - I felt like work had to take precedence over everything else. This is not ideal. Work is good for us, but no job is worth getting burn out.

I am extremely lucky to work where I do. I adore my job - I wake up and I look forward to getting into the office. Some of that is because the work I do is so interesting, varied and challenging - but a lot is because I work for a supportive employer who wants me to do well. My boss tells me to go home when I'm in late, instead of reprimanding me for coming in late. My extra hours are logged and I can take them as time off in lieu. I get a good day's work done and then I go home, and then I repeat the cycle. When something happens - my mother's surgery, for instance - my team recognise that anyone can answer the email, but only I can sit in A&E, so they tell me to be where I need to be, and not to worry about papers and deadlines. This is worth more than a top-drawer salary to me.

But I do remember - and see - what it is like to work somewhere that has to squeeze you like a lemon for the business model to function. I don't want to take my current circumstances for granted - I want the choice to be able to say "FU" if I find myself there again. I already have the comfort of a good savings cushion, and the confidence of being able to live on a low income. This gives me a peace of mind, and today I am really valuing that.

Walking the long way around

For a while, I've been trying to psych myself up to cycling to work. It ticks so many boxes - being physically active, reducing emissions, saving money. But cycling in London is TERRIFYING. There are loads more bikes than a couple of years ago, but I'm a wuss.

After a while of feeling bad for lazily resorting to the bus, it finally occurred to me that there's another way for me to get to work under my own steam - walking.

It's about an hour's walk each way. It's a walk that takes me across and along the River Thames for part of my walk, and I feel connected with this city in a totally new way. Yes, it's a longer travel time than the bus - but I arrive at work feeling energised and fully awake, ready to start the day. I've already achieved something and I haven't even switched on my laptop. 

It's a really good feeling, and it's kind of surprised me. I thought the long walks would feel like a chore, but they are a real joy, especially compared to the bus. It's time to think, time to listen to music or to podcasts, time to breathe and look around me. I pass through different faces of this city - through areas of great wealth and areas of social housing, through areas of business and areas of luxury residence, through parks and along busy roads.

I'm trying to walk more travelling to other parts of the city too - a hospital appointment this week became an unexpected joy when I realised I could take a train part of the way, and then have a 45-minute walk along the Southbank - possibly the best walk in London. Shakespeare's Globe, St Paul's Cathedral, the Golden Hines ship, the Tate Modern, Southwark Cathedral...

But my favourite bit is definitely the river. I always knew the Thames was tidal, but never quite realised that meant you can hear the wash of the tides lapping against sand, the croak of seagulls... Guys, it's like walking by the beach. But, y'know, not.

The re-return

So helloooo blogosphere! I'm back. Again. Again.

Life seems to go in these cycles where I go off and discover new terrain, and then want to 'come home', make lemonade and knit stuff. Perhaps it's a good moment to reflect on what's the same and what's different.

So what is the same? Not much. Just me. Everything around me is different. Different job, different city, different home, different rhythm of life. I'm having so much fun with my life. I have a job I am excited to get to in the mornings, and that's very precious.

Because of that, my work has been my primary focus over the last months or years even, but I think the urge to knit things is perhaps an indicator that I need to slow down a bit more and savour this journey. Take more time just to be, to reflect, and to recharge. I feel a bit like I've climbed the first peak in the Himalayas and it feels awesome, but maybe I should take a break before I hit the second.

And you? What's new?

Slow but mobile?

After a year in the UK, I'm now back in Brussels for a brief stint. It feels really good to be back! 

I don't know if it's the time of year or something about Brussels, but here I am, reviving the blog and seeking some slowness again. I think you feel you can have a slow life in Brussels, while London doesn't allow for that possibility. Here, there are more parks. You can walk to work. There are farmers' markets in every square. The main thing though is the size - it no longer takes forever to get from A to B, and you can genuinely ring up some friends on Saturday evening to propose a dinner party and be sitting down together within the hour.

There are some aspects of this life I can dive straight back into. Seasonal cooking! I've been squashing (see what I did there) as many different variants of pumpkin into my recipes as I can, and discovering new types along the way. (Spaghetti pumpkin - so easy, so yummy, so versatile...)

But many other aspects are harder to embrace when you find yourself changing jobs, home and even country every 6 to 12 months, which is the situation I am currently in. I absolutely love my job, both what I am doing now and the future prospects it offers, but the scheme I am on gives me no control over where I go and no ability to plan ahead. I get rotated every six months, and I am told 6-8 weeks beforehand where I will go next.

 

This means that things involving long time-periods (like brewing fruit wine), or space for storage (like homemade jam) or equipment (like a sewing machine) or bulky ingredients (like soap-making) are pretty much out. It does not make sense logistically, financially or for my sanity to lug large quantities of oil and lye around.

The one thing I have brought with me is my knitting. Needles do not take up much space, and I no longer have a stash of wool. 

 

But all the oh so many things I really want to do - and which I could very feasibly do in terms of time if I were living here longer - just don't make sense. A fruit tree in a pot - what do I do with it when I leave? Build a small worm-compost box - ditto.

How do you manage this compromise? Any ideas for more mobile simplicity?

Where have you been all my life?

My efforts at simple living 'last time around', before I left for London, now seem to be to involve huge amounts of research and effort for small things. Where - WHERE - could one buy a bottle brush? Or fuller's earth? Or a handy basket? Or a cheesecloth? 

The basic equipment and ingredients were so hard to find. But in the time I was gone, dear Brussels, you went and got yourself not one but two branches of Dille & Kamille.

I mostly know the brand because their cloth bags seem the latest hipster accessory. They are EVERYWHERE here. Which put me off slightly, but then I ended up on their website (I forget why) and I realised that I HAD to come at my earliest opportunity.

I went today. There's shelves and shelves of different kinds of brushes. Liquid and hard soaps, candles, cooking implements, jam jars and bottles... I was in paradise. 

The things that matter

My mother is in hospital recovering from open-heart surgery. It's been a long, long week, most of it spent at the hospital.

I am grateful that my mother is doing well.

I am grateful to her fabulous surgeons.

I am grateful for the hospital cafe providing injections of tea and sugar.

I am grateful I have my sister with me, that neither of us has to walk this path alone.

I am grateful for the people I love who flood me with texts and calls.

I am grateful for home, a place to come back to and rest at the end of each day.

I am grateful to work for someone who urges me to work from home, take the day off, go to the hospital and don't worry about the deadlines.

Living well and with style without breaking the bank: "Orchids on your budget"

After an adventurous year with a new city, new career and many new challenges, I've been reflecting on what simple living means to me now.

The importance of living well on a budget, setting money aside to save for future goals and rainy days, is as important as ever. The career move I made last year meant moving to a more expensive city at the same time as taking a significant salary cut in order to 'start again' at entry level. Budgeting has become more challenging.

At the same time, the opportunities that this move has offered me in terms of building relationships and seeking new experiences - growing and developing as a person professionally, intellectually, creatively and emotionally - are immense. I want to take full advantage of them, of this moment in my life, but I have even less resources (time and money) at my disposal.

Many of the examples, blogs and books I have looked to in the last years demonstrate the importance and value of taking time out of the 'rat race', the value in reconnecting with the slower rhythms of the natural world rather than the rapid movements of popular culture. But much as I am drawn to many of these, and can often find elements to incorporate into my approach, it's hard to get away from the idea that they don't quite fit the moment I am in life. 

I know I'm oversimplifying, but it often feels that I am looking at a model of 'leaning out' of modern life - a move from urban to rural, from ambitious careerism to putting work second, an emphasis on time-intensive crafts and home-cooking. In a word, old-fashioned (and I don't mean that at all pejoratively, but as an approach which rediscovers and celebrates what sometimes forgotten or abandoned skills and tasks can offer us today.) 

What I am increasingly looking for is a model of simple living that enables me to 'lean in' - follow my professional ambitions, enjoy the best of city life without losing touch with country pleasures, and to live not just inexpensively but also with style. I want to be able to enjoy the high cultures of the city and the sports of the countryside, to present myself well at the office and enjoy feeling chic in my down-time, and to enjoy international travel today without making it impossible tomorrow.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have found a book which exactly bridges this gap. Which reaffirms the importance of budgeting, living below your means in order to save, and of exploring inexpensive pleasures. And which also argues it is possible to do all of this, and still have 'orchids', or rather to incorporate some luxuries into your life. 

"Orchids on your budget; Live smartly on what you have" was written in 1937, advising the ladies of New York that a reduced income doesn't mean they have to give up all hopes of being well-dressed, of entertaining in style and having the occasional orchids. The author, Marjorie Hillis, was assistant editor of Vogue and seems to have been a fascinating woman.

In many ways the advice offered is not new, and will be very familiar to many of us. Focus on big expenditures like what you pay for your home, and prioritise either size or location, but not both. Down-size and declutter as much as you can. Decorate using second-hand items, homemade bits, finds from thrift stores, and make it chic using a simple colour scheme. Look after your clothes, make sure they are properly maintained, cleaned and mended. Learn to cook well using inexpensive, local or seasonal ingredients.

The difference is that she focuses on style, panache, glamour. On building a wardrobe that is easy to maintain and chic, for example. She advises reading fashion magazines as you would an exam textbook to distil the key trends and using that to add a few inexpensive touches (eg an accessory rather than a full suit) to a capsule wardrobe so you look up to date without spending much on clothes you won't get much wear out of. 

Most of all, I loved the tone of the book, the witty and acerbic voice of Marjorie Hillis advising me to make good use of what I have, rather than complaining that I can't have more. My favourite quote is on her advice that everyone should have a hobby, should seek interesting things rather than waiting for them to find you: "Be a Communist, a stamp collector, or a Ladies’ Aid worker if you must, but for heaven’s sake, be something." For another taste of her 'voice', there's a good article on her earlier book "Live alone and like it" here. 

I enjoyed the independent, forward-thinking approach to women in the workplace - Marjorie Hillis also wrote a guide to 'spare women' on how to 'Life alone and like it', and urges women to see how they can earn something to support themselves or help the household budget go further, whether by going out to work or making use of their skills and resources in the home. One chapter is entitled 'Can you afford a husband?' - her sense of humour is apparent throughout.

She argues a lot is in attitude - the importance of enthusiasm, of creating fun for yourself and others rather than dwelling on what you wish you had, comes back again and again throughout the book. It's a fantastic complement to what has been written about slowing down, budgeting and 'making do and mending', but with added glitz. For anyone worried that living on a budget means giving up too much, this is a great source of tips for living glamorously on a shoestring.