I have been dithering about this post. Papers full of inflation, gulf between rich and poor getting wider, Sir Keir Starmer threatening a budget ‘which is going to hurt’. A few times in my life I have been accused of being mean. Notably, when I wrote an article in the Observer, about the practice of ‘splitting’ the bill, where people on expenses chose the most expensive items and those who had very little, or ate modestly, paid the same. I got called mean, but so often we were landed with a bill way beyond our modest means. As we were often at conferences we could not decently stay in our room with a sandwich.

Last week brought me up very short. I was away, and to say ‘thank you’ to my hosts I took them out to dinner. A very poor main course each, they shared a dessert, a bottle of wine, 190 euros, shattered. I had booked first class train each way to ensure I got a seat. On the way back there was no first class carriage, luckily not busy or I would have been in trouble. So overpaid, not worth claiming the difference. Then I got the first taxi in the rank. Driver proud only been driving 9 days. I asked if they had tests, yes, but after that they were not allowed to use a GPS. All other taxis have. Result he got lost, asked ME the way, and the bill nearly double the usual. I need a new swim suit and bath robe. The unnecessary expenditure would have purchased them. I am not poor, but very restricted, things I would like to do, nothing luxurious, are out of reach.

Whilst writing this book about our previous seven houses, within the framework of the political, financial and social maelstrom which went on over my nearly ninety years, I did a sort of ‘balance sheet’. We had so many huge parties, absolutely no regrets, never expected to be re-paid in reciprocal entertainment. But I did the cooking, or we got an excellent, reasonably priced caterer. If the house and garden would not cope, we hired the school canteen, or the village hall. Mr G’s 80th birthday, in the hall in the village where we met and married was brilliant. We went to India nine times, expensive in hotels but we did lots for the convents. We flowered the facade of our house for ten years, joy to thousands. I did flowers in two churches for 45 years, own expense.

A woman I knew, 60. Lost her husband with cancer. He had a huge life insurance; their parents had helped them finance their French property. Her children were grown up and employed. She had a new partner, we were invited to his 80th birthday, please bring food and drink for the table. She had been on three cruises that year. My quandary, the situation of ‘treating’ people will recur. I can’t say ‘Will you choose an affordable restaurant?’  What do you do (unless you are mega rich)?

The Gardener

A Moodscope member