The Scrooge within

I'm not poor, but on the other hand, although I do not consider myself rich, many people might contend that I am well off.  I am certainly comfortable financially; indeed, I'm more comfortable that way than I have ever been in my life .  Which I find moderately surprising.  When I retired from work, which was five years before I could receive the old age pension - sorry, the state pension - my income immediately fell dramatically, although I was in receipt of a pension from my one-time employer.  When the government kindly paid me more money, wow!  I was in the lap of luxury.

There had been a time when I was paying off one credit card each month by drawing on another, but those days are now long gone.  I did have to take myself well in hand in order to repay those debts and I suppose the habit of parsimony has stuck  And so I get irritated when I find the Old Bat has used the call back feature on the telephone at the vast expense of 20p.  But I am quite content to shrug my shoulders at something else and say, "Well, it's only a couple of pounds, and what's that in the grand scheme of things?"

I am quite happy to pay the tolls on French motorways - which are not always particularly cheap - rather than drive an extra ten minutes on toll-free roads, and yet when I look at the menu in a restaurant I go for the cheaper dishes, saying to myself, "I might prefer that dish but it's 50p more than this one.  I'll go with this one."

This switching from miser to spendthrift and back is something I just don't understand.  Surely I should be one or the other?  I'm so tight careful that I will put just one item into a bag on its own at the supermarket so I can truthfully say I've used four of my own bags - and thereby get another point on my Nectar card, a point which is worth (I think) half a penny!  And yet I'll buy a chocolate bar for 50p or 60p and sit in the car to eat it before I drive home.

Oh well.  As they say oop North, there's nowt so queer as folk.