There is a conversation that my son and I have been having for several years now. Not occasionally, not once in a while, but repeatedly. Like a family tradition…or Christmas, except with more financial judgement.
It usually begins with him wandering into the garden, looking around at the trees, shrubs, perennials, bulbs, pots, tools, compost, mulch, fertiliser, irrigation equipment, and whatever plant delivery has most recently arrived. Then he shakes his head.
“You know,” he says, “if you hadn’t bought all these plants, you’d probably be a billionaire by now.”
Now, to be fair, I don’t think he literally means billionaire. Even I acknowledge that the occasional peony purchase isn’t the sole reason I’m not appearing on the rich list. But I understand the principle. If I added up every plant, every tree, every bulb, every bag of compost, every garden tool, every decorative pot, every impulse purchase that seemed absolutely essential at the time, the total would undoubtedly be… uncomfortable. Not horrifying. Let’s not be dramatic. Just the sort of number that you’d rather not calculate because it might spoil the mood.
So, I understand his point. But I also think he’s completely missing mine. Because my response is always the same.
“Yes, but if I had all that money and no garden, what would I actually do?”
He looks at me as if I’ve just asked what the purpose of oxygen is.
“Anything.”
“Like what?”
And this is where the discussion starts to unravel because after a surprisingly short amount of time, most alternatives seem to involve spending money on other hobbies. This rather proves my point.
The world’s least successful financial strategy
Hi free subscribers,
Yep, it’s decision time…again. Will you, or won’t you? This is the question. Let me just say, I hope to see you on the other side where you’ll get to see everything I create entirely for your amusement, education, and enjoyment.
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