The jelly-and-ice-cream child

I’m trying to be responsible and pay off some debt at the moment, after years of not even looking at my bank balance, and it’s a bit of a bugger. I’ve found the hardest thing about saving money is not going without things. I’ve figured out pretty quickly that somehow I can make do. No, the hardest thing about saving is that I keep running into this whiny child-like person somewhere inside me, and she is not at all impressed with our new-found frugality. She wants, proverbially, her jelly and her ice-cream.

What to do with the jelly-and-ice-cream child? She’s got a point. No one wants to be deprived of things they normally get to enjoy.

So as part of my effort to still have abundance in my life, but for free, I joined the library in Lewes. It’s a beautiful space and going there brings back how exciting it was going to the library with Mum when I was a kid, and I could choose anything to borrow, and everything was in neat categories, and I was innocent, and life was easy, and I still thought that I’d grow up to be an safari guide/beatnik/astronaut/poet/chocolate tester/millionaire with twelve ponies. Or at least, I still thought I’d grow up.

Now the jelly-and-ice-cream child has a library card, and she can borrow 20 books for three weeks. Currently she’s got a satisfyingly weighty pile of Joyce Carol Oates, DBC Pierre, Kobo Abe and Albert Camus, along with some poetry collections and cookbooks, all sitting on the windowsill. And life is sweet.

LOVE xxx

P.S. Speaking of the links between jelly and intellectual expansion, check this out!

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