Amuse me now

I’ve been thinking about how much it costs to keep ourselves entertained. Years ago, we grew vegetables and darned socks in our spare time, no doubt while listening to the wireless. Far from costing anything, these pastimes actually saved people money. I can definitely remember my parents mending and growing, although with the ingratitude of youth I didn’t like wearing scratchy darned socks or eating stringy runner beans. Now I’m able to choose, I avoid all green beans and scratchy socks as a matter of principle. Although I have been known to darn my socks when I’m feeling particularly homespun and virtuous. Which isn’t that often.

Now our sources of entertainment are mostly unproductive and often expensive. I started to think about the cost of my various pastimes and it adds up pretty quickly. Spotify costs £10.99 a month. We have no CDs or records in the house, so without Spotify there is no music. I also pay £7.99 to download one audiobook from Audible every month. I do know how to read, but it is rather lovely being read to.

My gym membership is £36 a month, which is really quite a bargain. I used to belong to a much posher gym with lovely views over a golf course and a café full of comfy seating. My current gym has no windows and no café, but it does the job at a third of the price and I’m not tempted to spend money drinking coffee as a reward for my efforts. Not at the gym anyway. We pay for no streaming services and shamelessly use our children’s. I’m not sure they know.

Membership of my choir costs £56 a term (although I think they’d probably pay me to stay away) and I pay £60 a year for my Art Pass, which gives me discounts on gallery and museum entry. The pass is issued by Art Fund, a charity that promotes museums across the country and helps them build their collections. I pay £95 a year to belong to the British Library, mostly so I have a nice members’ room to loll about in while waiting to catch my train home from London. I pay £35 a year to be a member of our local Corn Exchange, which, disappointingly, does not provide me with a marketplace for selling my grain, but is merely an arts centre. Then there’s the U3A, which, for those who haven’t yet been initiated into its secrets, is the University of the Third Age. Sadly, it’s not quite as mystical as it sounds, but is a snip at £12 a year. The Ramblers Society costs £41 a year and I pay £62 annually to the Newbury Society, even though I can’t quite remember what it does.

This is just the beginning and doesn’t include trips to London, the theatre, travel, dining out, train fares, courses or entry fees to various attractions. I’m also declining to comment on those in my household who look on playing golf as one of life’s necessities. I know we’re fortunate to be able to do all these things and I wouldn’t want to replace them with growing potatoes and making my own clothes. Still, it makes me wonder at our growing inability to amuse ourselves. I feel nostalgic for a time when people gathered around the piano for a sing-song, if you can feel nostalgic for something you’ve never actually known.

All those £ signs have definitely shocked me and I think it’s time for an audit. My plan is to look carefully at all these expenses and decide how necessary they really are. A cull is in order. I’m not sure how successful I’ll be, but will report back next week.