I caught the end of a radio programme about a group of people who have given up shopping for a year. I didn’t hear it all so presume buying food and medicine is o.k. and , hopefully, soap. All else has to be repaired, made, bartered, swapped or bought second hand.
Since giving up full time work I’ve become something of a thrift queen. Apparently it’s quite fashionable, which is more than I can say for my trousers. I like the idea of not going to ‘the shops’. I no longer need all the smart clothes that lurk in my wardrobe and I’m not tempted by the fancy catalogues that flood through my door and into the recycling box. They never offer the mud coloured trousers and battered hats I really need.
There was a time when I kept an old pair of jeans and a tatty sweatshirt for weekend work. Now all my clothes have to do for outdoors. Slowly my entire wardrobe will become designated gardening clothes. I wonder where the line is between charmingly eccentric and the village bag lady. I guess I’m soon to find out.
Home hint for the slatternly blogger:
A quick hoover round and a touch of furniture polish at nose height on the door frame and no one need know you’ve been on the computer all afternoon.