Tuesday, 20 January 2015

rich girl

A conversation I have had many times with family and friends. What would we do if we won the lottery? Not a couple of tenners on the lucky dip, not even a million, no we're talking the big Kahuna... a few million.  Because when we sat and worked out what we would spend on ourselves, our kids, our parents, our mates, then ourselves again; we were horrified to discover that a million pounds would disappear before we had a chance to pop into the bank - and that we would be back at work on the following Monday.
No a few gazillion million it would have to be. And there's the rub. For you would suppose that money wasn't an issue with these zeros settling in your offshore account, but in fact it would be an almighty issue. For all involved.

So I've bought a bigger house, or a few smaller houses in random places across the world. Holidays to die for. Check. Dream car and shoes. Check. A party where I donate cash pressies out to everyone who has put up with my doom mongering (thinking about it now, there wouldn't be much left after that to be honest).

But then the fun is over, and I know I'm starting to get obsessed by how much I've spent and how much is left. The rows are starting because I'm guessing GeordieLad wants to invest and see the world, but I am getting stressed about who I should share this with. Most important that we put a stack of it away for the 3G's rainy days.

But hold on. Suppose, on realising that they have cash in the parent's proverbial attic, the 3G decide they won't bother doing well at school and become spongelike do nothings like the nineties' It girls, waiting for their trustfunds to appear.  That doesn't fit in with our working class principles. Nope, no cash for the girls. But then they'll hate us, and they'll run off to some squat or commune and not wash for ten years, only to resurface once the BBC Heir Hunters tracks them down. Darn, okay we'll give them some

And then there's the spending. I've always maintained that I'm not particularly fussed with fashion or clothes shopping. I don't suppose being able to splash the cash will make much difference. I love a bargain and can honestly say I'd be much happier perusing the vintage offerings at Portobello market than dashing down the sparkly expensive section at Westfield. I'd have a wardrobe bursting full of  second hand denim flares and maxi dresses, and still no dent in my purse.

Okay so charity. I've always has a couple of charities that I regularly give to, so I guess now is the time to up the offerings. But how much? They only normally ask for £2 a month so what's appropriate now. £200? £2grand? And which one would I choose? Do I spread the amount amongst my usual three? Or add more because I have more money? Decisions, decisions.

And then there's the family. Chances are no matter how little or how much you give, someone will be offended. Can you imagine? What? That likkle child who used to sit 'pon my knee can only see fit to give me dat much? She ruuuude!

I have a massive family. I love them all. I don't think they would really have their hands out, but I still don't want anyone getting angry with me. I'm 42 for goodness sake - this is the time to be making amends with people I've upset over the years, not winding them up even more!

And I haven't even started on the friends. A suggestion was buy gifts or take them all on a massive holiday. But you know that feeling at a birthday party or weddings where different elements of your life all collide. Professional work 'you' has to merge with mouthy friend 'you' and somehow steer clear of opinionated and bossy family 'you'. Nope. No holidays. Too stressful.

Reluctantly the conclusion is that no house would ever be big enough, because give me space and I will fill it; thereby rendering any house too small. If I had to decide who to give how much, I would probably upset all the people who have ever known me resulting in a constant burning of my ears as friends and family sully my name.

So no.  With it or without it. Money can never not be an issue.