At our office Christmas party a couple of weeks ago, someone, once again, brought up recession. I regretted, at the time, immediately blurting out that I refused to realise it, personally. What a stupid thing to say. My workmates looked on, shocked at my selfishness. I blushed, gulped some wine and muddled something out about being in a position to help.
A little more thought before speaking is something I have always resolved to work on. Must try harder.
I have now had time to put my thoughts into proper order and so have rewritten the scene, embellished the truth and twisted time to a more satisfactory scriptual outcome.
I object to being dragged into a cloud of murky gloom by the dragging negativity that consumes media output. Why? Because I am young, single (no, not in that way, David), qualified, mobile, independent (financially, at least), I have negligible savings, no real responsibilities and a decent income.
I am, in short, in a position to help. I can keep spending, albeit in the same relatively unluxurious way as before (London always was, for me, an expensive city), I can eat out from time to time, I can try to stay positive and upbeat. I will still take holidays, I will still see gigs and plays and I will shop at my local shops. Nothing much will change, except that I no longer have any paltry savings in Iceland.
There’s a fine line between insensitivity towards those who really are struggling and my plan for calculated micro-economic support, but I hope that I, in my own very small way, may be able to keep things trundling along and behave responsibly towards those who rely upon pennies like mine.
Cue large swig of cheap white wine. Exit stage left.