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Blather

My name, for the purposes of this blog, is Richard [Surname], and this is How to be a Dick about Money. This is one of my guilty secrets: despite being an adult in my thirties I cannot be trusted with money. At any moment in my life I am literally pissing money out of my ears. Literally. There are people I know who have things much tougher and they know how to budget and they know how much money is worth. When I hear them complaining about how hard they have it I feel guilty, very guilty indeed. Because I am an idiot with money, just how much an idiot I plan to divulge slowly here, and may perhaps learn something about myself in the process. Yeah.

Up to the age of thirty I watched my finances carefully, panicking whenever I went a pound overdrawn. And then I hit thirty and thought – I don’t care any more. Yes, it was liberating, just as calling your boss a fuckpig and then swanning out of the building for the last time ever can be liberating, but, oh, there is a terrible reckoning. Or is there? Credit limits and overdrafts mean that, however little money I actually possess, there is seemingly no end to the amount that I can piss away. Yes, there is still a roof over my head, there is still beer in my fridge, so what does any of it matter? That is one issued that this blog hopes to explore.

What I also plan to do is show how this financial incompetence is just one aspect of my wider failure to integrate meaningfully with the universe. There are many causes for complaint between skull and toes. I’m afraid it won’t all be about numbers. Some emotions may creep in from time to time, as I look frankly at myself, metaphorically (and sometimes literally) stripped naked before you, as I adopt a candour I couldn’t possibly show to those closest to me. Whoever they are!

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