I've never been any good with money; though have always had the aspirations of Lord Alan Sugar, even as a child. I remember playing a game of Monopoly with my nan on my 7th birthday, having ruthlessly snaffled up all the purple properties on the board and put 3 houses on all the reds I would turn to her and say 'There's simply nothing for it, either you mortgage Park Lane and give me Bond Street or I screw you out of every last penny'. Heaven knows why she continued giving me a fiver once a year for my birthday, but that set me on my way to being the impoverished Imelda Marcos I consider myself today; going to Claire's Accessories armed only with £2.50 but returning with bounty the likes of which P Diddy could only dream of.
I've continued to be utterly hopeless at hanging onto my cash; so much so that I'm breeding a family of rare moths in my wallet and the cashier at my local Barclays recently asked after the welfare of my cat.
I'd like to say my constant penny scrimping ways is the fault of the government; that I'm a product of the recession or even that I never have any money because I selflessly donate it all to Oxfam. But that simply isn't true. Just last week I purchased a £2.50 tin of lentils because 'they're much nicer than the £1 ones' and bought a homeless man a drink because he said I had nice eyes (one's slightly lazy).
Where does money go? I don't pay rent, have any children or any form of recreational drug habit. On the other hand, I have no regular job and nine different shades of Converse All Stars. I fear that a few years from now my bedroom door will be knocked down by a Squat Team who have to pick me out of a ceiling high pile of handbags and send me straight to the Spendaholics team , who can teach me how to make my own shoes and sign me up to medical trials where I can get paid to try out new forms of sleeping pills.
I recently bought a £3.50 magazine on the premise that it advertised a 'Get rich whilst you sleep' feature on the cover (and came with a free Jilly Cooper novel). A quick perusal of the article didn't offer me much hope 'Advertise your services as a local dog walker' and 'Take up people's trousers for a living' hardly having the same ring as 'be paid for quality control as a Krispy Kreme taster' I had hoped of. My parents both despair of me; knowing their birthday presents will be bought with a tenner they've had to lend me for the occasion, and my poor boyfriend who has more than once inherited something I've nicked from my brother and passed off as 'vintage'.
In fact, it is probably my boyfriend who has suffered my skintness the most. Getting on my feminist high horse I deride Cheryl Cole and her cronies for seemingly marrying for money, whilst eating handfuls of truffle pizza and proclaiming it would be much more empowering to simply date for money. Is it so anti-feminist to expect the guy to pay for dinner and a new Mini Cooper afterwards? Perhaps it is when your boyfriend works as a part time barman, and has spent his food budget for the week on buying you a new set of acrylics.
There's only so long I can carry on like this and now that I'm nearly two years graduated I suppose I should think about getting myself employed somewhere. I promise when I actually become the multimillionaires entrepreneurial type I see myself as in my head I will be a better person. In fact the first step will be starting my own charity for underprivileged WAG types who have no choice in life but to dress in Primark and shop at Tesco rather than M&S. Won't someone please think of the children?