Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last penny.
This week: “I’m a 30-year-old civil servant living in London. I grew up and have spent most of my working life here, although I haven’t always worked in government. My current job is fast-paced and quite demanding, which I really like, but I’m not convinced I’ll spend my whole career in the civil service. I used to work in the arts/charity sector and my salaries were significantly lower so I’m enjoying having more disposable income and only one flatmate.
Unfortunately I love to shop, but I try not to impulse-buy and usually spend a while researching clothes or whatever to make sure I’m buying things I’ll actually use. I wouldn’t say I’m frugal — I want to make the most of living in London and having few responsibilities so I like to try new restaurants, go to the theatre and museums, travel either solo or with friends, and indulge in my hobbies.
I’m fairly good at saving and divide my savings between long-term and shorter term, with the latter for travelling or larger purchases. In the longer term I’d like to buy a property but it’s hard to persuade myself to cut down on nice things and save more when homeownership feels so out of reach in London, especially on a single income.”
Occupation: Civil servant
Industry: Government
Age: 30
Location: London
Salary: £69,727 (including contractual additional pay for a role that requires out-of-hours work).
Paycheque amount: £4,030
Number of housemates: One: my flatmate, A.
Pronouns: She/her
Monthly Expenses
Housing costs: £1,040
Loan payments: £0
Savings? Premium bonds £7,500; cash ISAs totalling £23,430; regular savings £12,160 (one higher interest and one with the same bank as my current account so I can easily move money around).
Pension? I contribute 7.35% calculated on my base salary; filling this out is the first time I’ve figured this out! I also have pensions from previous jobs that I keep meaning to consolidate.
Utilities: £71 council tax, £38.42 gas and electric, £15 internet, £230 water twice a year (these are all my half; all bills are split equally between me and my flatmate).
All other monthly payments: £16 phone, £5 BookTrust donation, £5 Crisis donation. Subscriptions: £10.99 Netflix, £0.99 Apple storage, £12.99 YouTube Music, £35 ClassPass, £128 pottery classes. Annual: £25 NY Times Cooking, £45 Vittles, £50 museum membership, £15 Fawcett Society.
Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
Yes, I went to university. I was the first person in my family to complete a degree so it was a pretty big deal to my parents. I took out loans and also had financial support from my parents so that I didn’t have to work during termtime. They had saved up to help support me and when one of my grandparents died, they put that inheritance towards paying off my student loans (I’ve paid the rest off while working and I am very grateful for their generosity). I sometimes wonder if I should have saved that money for a house deposit but my parents were very firm that they wanted it spent on my education.
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money?
My parents taught me about the importance of saving. I was taken to open my first savings account around age 6 and remember regularly bagging up pocket money coins to deposit at the bank. But there was also definitely encouragement to spend money on experiences and things that brought joy, and a culture of treating the people around you as much as you could. My parents didn’t earn much when I was small but our financial situation improved over the course of my childhood and teen years. I was aware that I had a lot of opportunities that I wouldn’t have had if I’d had siblings. My parents have been quite open about their financial decisions and difficulties but I would say it’s felt more like they’ve shared what they’ve learned as they’ve gone along, rather than having all the answers.
If you have, when did you move out of your parents’/guardians’ house?
After university. I came home during the holidays at uni but as soon as I graduated I got a job and moved out.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself? Does anyone else cover any aspects of your financial life?
At 21. I was really lucky that my parents were able to provide financial support during university but I felt very strongly about becoming financially independent after studying. No one provides support to me now but my parents live in London and would be a safety net for me if I ever needed it, which I’m grateful for.
What was your first job and why did you get it?
Working as a teaching assistant in a local community organisation — I wanted to have more spending money to do things with my friends. I think it paid around £20/week by the time I was in sixth form.
Do you worry about money now?
Yes. Even though I have a higher salary than I’ve ever had and am able to save and spend on things I enjoy, I worry about never being able to afford to live alone or buy a property on a single income. I also worry about needing to support my parents as they get older as an only child, so I talk to them often about their pension plans.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income?
Yes — I’ve lost all of my grandparents and have received some inheritance money, totalling around £15,000. My mother also gifted me £5,000 when she retired and received a lump sum from her pension, with instructions to use it for a property deposit or a master’s. Cash is also a traditional bat mitzvah gift and I received over £3,000 aged 12. I donated 10% to children’s charities and put the rest into savings. One of my grandmothers gifted me some shares — I get around £80/year from these and I don’t really know what to do with them.
7:33 a.m. — Alarm goes off and I am so uninterested in getting up. Eventually get in the shower, wash my hair and fumble through the rest of my getting-ready tasks.
9:50 a.m. — Get to work.
11:20 a.m. — I keep a stash of yoghurts in the work fridge so I grab one and read the NY Times morning newsletter as a treat. Glance at my personal email and see that Amex is giving me access to book tickets for The Lehman Trilogy, which is coming back to London. I saw the original production and loved it so message one of my best pals, E, who’s keen. Realise as soon as I’ve booked that I accidentally selected an extra ticket so email the booking office and they sort it out straightaway; I send a thank you email as I’ve worked in a box office and always appreciated it when people recognised I was fixing their errors. E pays me back for her ticket immediately so my cost comes to £60.
1 p.m. — Lunch is leftovers. My colleagues tease me for naming this dish ‘sad little Italian boy pasta’ but I think it’s exactly what a nonna would make a sad, under-the-weather child: diced vegetables (onions, carrots, broccoli and peas in this iteration) sautéed in lots of olive oil and salt and pepper, and tossed with ditalini and a little chicken stock, parmesan and lemon juice.
3 p.m. — TfL charges from today and over the weekend hit, £12.15.
5:20 p.m. — Leave the office at least an hour earlier than I usually do. I have time to kill before therapy so I go to Tiger and show remarkable restraint as I only walk out with a tea strainer (the actual thing I needed), a floral pencil case to replace my toiletry bag, and a gold wire storage basket, £11.50.
6:20 p.m. — Realise I’m so starving I can’t wait for a late dinner so go past the Chinese supermarket and they have the last chicken curry bun marked down, £1.02. I eat it on a bench in a little park with the remaining jasmine tea and my book, Butter Honey Pig Bread by Francesca Ekwuyasi.
8 p.m. — Leave therapy and transfer payment for the session as I walk home, £80. His cost has increased twice since we started and I’m conscious that this is a significant expenditure — but he’s taking the rest of the month off, which helps. I also can’t deny what a massive difference I’ve seen in my mental health. I notice a missed call from my mum so I call her back and we talk for about five minutes about nothing much.
8:30 p.m. — I arrive home to an anonymous note from a neighbour asking us not to slam our door, which immediately irritates me as I’m not sure why they couldn’t wait until one of us was in. Obviously someone is more interested in being angry than constructive and I can’t change that!
9 p.m. — Eat in front of the TV — scrappy dinner of tinned cannellini beans simmered with onion, chilli, garlic, rosemary, tomato paste and part of a frozen homemade chicken stock cube, on rye toast and topped with a fried egg, parsley and lemon zest. After dinner I clear up, change the bin bag and put a load of towels, tea towels and flannels on a hot wash. Chew some multivitamins, brush teeth, floss, wash face, evening skincare routine with retinol, then get into bed and paint my nails while watching an old episode of House, MD.
Total: £164.67
7:41 a.m. — Alarm. Shower, do my skincare including vitamin C serum and SPF, put on a pair of navy linen trousers, a William Morris print top, and little gold pumps with straps.
9:40 a.m. — Get into work. More meetings today, including me stopping into a senior team’s meeting to talk them through a new system that I’ve conceived and launched, which (if it works) should improve a fairly critical thing across the whole department. In between things, I work my way through my little word games — Wordle, Connections, Squaredle, etc.
12:10 p.m. — Time for a flask of Earl Grey.
1:10 p.m. — Lunch. I have the second half of the bean mix from last night with a portion of green spicy rice I pulled out of the freezer this morning. I message a friend from school about a trip we’re planning to take at the end of the month. I put roundups from my daily spending into a holiday pot to fund my travels.
2 p.m. — While I’m doing a review with one of my line reports, I see a message from a colleague to say that one of our other junior members of the team is leaving — I’m not looking forward to the next few months all of a sudden, as they’re both excellent.
4:20 p.m. — Go to the snack table to get a handful of salt and vinegar Pringles and a chocolate biscuit. Have an extended debate with my team about the best Pringles flavour (it’s obviously the kicking sour cream).
5:45 p.m. — I meet my old flatmate and her boyfriend near my office. We stand outside a rammed pub and she buys me a pint of cider.
7 p.m. — We go to a nearby Korean restaurant and each get a bibimbap (mine is spicy chicken) and split a kimchi jeon and fried chicken. My third of the bill is £25.43.
8:40 p.m. — I say goodbye and take the Tube home. Some exuberantly drunk middle-aged men try to catcall me on the escalator down but get into a different carriage. I finish Butter Honey Pig Bread — I’m not sure all of the techniques were fully successful but it was incredibly vivid and sensory, I really enjoyed it.
9:20 p.m. — Home. My flatmate, A, and I catch up about our days and put on an episode of the old season of Married At First Sight Australia, which we’re watching together. While it’s on I fold away the woollens and delicates I had on the clothes horse, fold the load of towels from the machine, and put on a load of darks. I also do a few rows of knitting. I’m working on a Fair Isle cowl for the hospice my mum volunteers at; they’ve provided yarn for people to knit things for them to sell.
11:23 p.m. — Hang up laundry in a stunning display of clothes horse Tetris and put out last week’s packaging for my food delivery for them to collect and recycle. Faff around too much before I brush teeth, oil cleanse and apply evening skincare, starring niacinamide.
12:30 a.m. — TfL charge comes out for the day, £6.20. Lights out.
Total: £31.63
7:31 a.m. — Wake up and see a notification that my food order has been delivered, £43.02.
8 a.m. — Shower, teeth, skincare, etc. I choose a pair of linen trousers described as ‘smoky pine’ by John Lewis, a knitted short-sleeve polo cardigan, and accessorise with a green glass necklace I bought in Italy as a child and have rediscovered.
9 a.m. — As I’m walking to the station, a car hits a cyclist without a helmet — he goes over the bonnet and is conscious but not moving. A few bystanders rush forwards, thankfully one is a nurse. The driver pulls over and is in as much shock as the cyclist and extremely apologetic. I pass information to the man on the phone with 999, get some traffic cones from nearby roadworks to put around the accident site and wave off other people who come over as there’s a big enough group of people helping. The cyclist is able to stand and much more aware so we help him over to the pavement and I run back to the flat to fetch him water and a packet of Haribo — always good to have something sweet after a shock.
9:40 a.m. — Ambulance arrives so after I give a statement and my details to the police I leave for work. A dramatic start to the day but it’s nice to live somewhere where people want to stop and help each other.
10:30 a.m. — I have my review with my manager. I really respect him and he’s not one for excessive praise so having him tell me I excel in my job and that I should be proud of my achievements feels very good. We talk about the fact that I should be looking at what’s next soon, which I don’t love because job hunting is hellish. I’m also still getting used to the openness with which people discuss job hunting in the civil service.
12:15 p.m. — Grab a chocolate-covered biscuit as I walk past the snack point. I read an article in The Guardian about the astonishing impact of diabetes on the NHS and the environmental factors that exacerbate the problem in some areas, and think about food literacy and the struggle for so many people to access and afford healthy food. I do a bit of research and set up a £5 monthly donation to Food Matters as I like that they work with care leavers and the criminal justice system. I also sign up to have an introductory call next week with a charity that works in my borough to provide meals and food education to vulnerable people. I’ve worked in a professional kitchen before and have been wanting to find a volunteer opportunity for a while. Astonishing what I can achieve when I’m procrastinating at work (the money will come out of my next paycheque).
1:15 p.m. — Go to the food market near work and get a burrito. It’s expensive but the guys who own and run the stall are really lovely so I go occasionally, £10.25.
5:15 p.m. — Hop on the Tube home and catch up on messages. Pick up cucumber and tarragon from Budgens on the way home, £2.39.
8:30 p.m. — After a quick dinner I dash out to meet my friend R at one of our locals. Buy a glass of wine for R and a gin and tonic for me, £14.85.
12 a.m. — Sleep.
Total: £70.51
7:33 a.m. — Alarm. Snooze twice. Shower and wash my hair and shave my legs. Put some product in my hair and half-dry it with the diffuser.
9:20 a.m. — On the Tube I text a few friends and read my book about the history of the amber trade route between St Petersburg and Venice — it’s very interesting and I like dipping in and out of it so I have technically been reading it for about six months.
12:30 p.m. — After a morning trying to unpick an ongoing issue with one of our arm’s length bodies and how they work with us, I head out for a walk. It’s quite breezy and I’m glad of long skirts and sleeves. I head to a local yarn shop that I’ve been meaning to go to for years but never quite managed. Everything is so beautiful and it is with great personal restraint that I only walk out with some cobalt blue cashmere yarn for a small scarf and needle stoppers. This is unfortunately not a cheap hobby, £34.
1:30 p.m. — Get back to the office and immediately walk into a small and urgent problem that I iron out while shovelling crab spaghetti in my face — slightly awkward when someone comes by my desk to discuss the issue in person.
5:30 p.m. —We’re encouraged to work slightly shorter hours in quieter periods as we do more than the average when it’s busy so I head home.
7 p.m. — Change, eat and get back on the Tube. I listen to my ‘straight up bangers’ playlist to psych myself up because I’m going to a Thursday event for singles. I hate the apps but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to meet anyone. This is the second one of these I’m going to and even though my expectations are low, I’m feeling very uncomfortable. I remind myself that all I’m looking for is one interesting conversation and one funny anecdote.
7:30 p.m. — After a panicked lap around the block I go in and it is dead. I get a drink at the bar, £14.90.
8 p.m. — The whole thing feels awkward and I extract myself from an awkward conversation with two men who are nice enough but there wasn’t a spark. Go to the loo and not a single girl is being positive about the experience. It’s hot and loud and overwhelming. I go upstairs to cool down and it becomes significantly easier. I also get chatting to a man who is quite interesting and has a lot to say. He asks for my number and is plain about his interest in seeing me again. I think we have a good rapport but we’ll see what actually happens.
9:25 p.m. — I buy another drink, £13.50.
10:25 p.m. — I’ve made some more friends and had more conversations but after I finish my drink I’m done. I walk through Soho to get the bus.
11 p.m. — I assemble a slice of toast with butter, cheese and honey. I then wash my face, brush my teeth, do my evening skincare and get into bed to fall asleep to Schitt’s Creek. My TfL charge comes out, £12.40.
Total: £74.80
7:41 a.m. — Alarm. Usual shower, teeth, skincare; outfit is a long skirt with a dense reddish floral chintz on a navy background, a short-sleeve navy sweater, red leather pumps (M&S via charity shop) and layered necklaces with gold, pearl and red agate.
9 a.m. — Get on the Tube. Nice and empty on a Friday. I don’t have to be at the office every day but I really hate working from home and rarely do it.
10:25 a.m. — One of my back-to-back meetings is cancelled so I grab a yoghurt from the fridge to eat at my desk before my regular catchup with one of my mentees.
12:10 p.m. — Midway through a call with another department and I see the guy from last night has texted. I don’t reply yet but I see myself smirk slightly in the Teams video.
12:40 p.m. — Get drunken noodles with veg and tofu from the Thai stall and on my way back to the office I’m stopped by colleagues who embroil me in a conversation about a very difficult work problem. I love my role and how many different people and complex issues I get to work with, but sometimes a girl just wants to eat her noodles, £8.
1:15 p.m. — While eating I send E money for cinema tickets tonight, £10.
2:30 p.m. — Make a flask of jasmine tea and have two Jaffa Cakes from the snack point — mentally note that I should pick some stuff up to contribute next week. I text the guy from last night back and try not to desperately overthink it.
5:30 p.m. — Wrap up last meeting of the day, which is handover for weekend cover (I am unfortunately on duty tomorrow), and I’m out! Get on the Tube to head to E.
6 p.m. — Arrive at E’s flat. We have a glass of wine and then dash to get the bus to the cinema. We go to a Japanese restaurant across the road and split pumpkin korokke, takoyaki, seaweed salad, a sushi platter and a small bottle of sake. E pays.
10:10 p.m. — Leave the cinema and get on the bus, loudly discussing the masterpiece we’ve just witnessed. We stop by a little Sainsbury’s and I get us a bottle of crémant — cheaper than champagne but just as good, £14.
10:40 p.m. — Back to E’s. We put on The Longest Ride, which we’ve seen so many times but is a southern classic of modern romance featuring Nazis, art history and bull-riding.
2:30 a.m. — After the fizz finishes, I invent the raspberry bakewell cocktail using what’s on E’s bar cart. It’s surprisingly not bad. Shortly after, I decide it is home time. I stop by the kebab shop for a snack and get talking to some fellow late-night patrons, one in particular who meets my gaze in a certain way. Game recognises game, or at least benignly drunk and flirty does, and we have a little chat and make out outside the kebab shop. I give him my number but I go home alone with my cheesy chips, £4.
3:30 a.m. — I down a pint of water and fall asleep watching Parks and Rec. TfL charge comes out, £8.50.
Total: £44.50
8 a.m. — Alarm goes off and I check my work phone and put it on loud. I take a preventative paracetamol and drink more water. I feel okay but tired. I message E and R in our group chat and finish yesterday’s Squaredle very slowly and drowsily with Gilmore Girls on as background noise.
11 a.m. — Actually get out of bed and make myself a giant mug of loose leaf green tea and a grilled cheese sandwich with turkey, emmental, cheddar and mustard. I put on some laundry and message my friend H about maybe getting a coffee/walk this afternoon — keeping an eye on my work phone the whole time.
12:10 p.m. — Shower, teeth, skincare including vitamin C and SPF. Slip on a zebra-pattern T-shirt dress that’s super comfortable and head out.
12:40 p.m. — While walking I listen to the voice note kebab shop guy left me (to my surprise) and respond in kind. Go to the Turkish supermarket and get leeks, spring onions, sweet potatoes, carrots, celery, bunch of parsley, ginger, spaghetti, tin foil. I also stop by an Insta-famous bakery and get a cheese pretzel, £23.80 total.
1:10 p.m. — Get home. Have another tea on the sofa. Put on some country tunes and make a carrot and sweet potato soup. While it’s simmering, I make a pesto with parsley and the carrot tops from my veg box, fold the dry laundry and divide the wet laundry between the dryer and the clothes horse. Do today’s Squaredle and Connections and watch a curation of early RushTok videos — sociologically gripping. Also handle a couple of work emails.
3:40 p.m. — Walk to meet H, an old uni friend, for a walk. We get a drink to go and I pay £4.49 for a really small and rubbish iced tea. Livid.
6:45 p.m. — Meet up with E and another friend and we go to a new local bar/deli that’s having a free gig. I don’t know the band at all but they’re great and it’s a really lovely, low-key way to spend a Saturday evening. I get us drinks (we’re permitted to have a drink on duty as long as you’re still fine to work if needed — I keep checking my phone but no interruptions). The round comes to £12.
8:15 p.m. — We go to the sushi restaurant a few doors down — we don’t usually eat this much sushi but we realise we’ve been saying we should go to this place for about a year so now seems like the perfect time. It is so delicious — a marinated scallop dish with shiso is particularly good — and the staff are lovely so we’ll definitely be coming back. My half with extra tip is £48.
9:45 p.m. — Walk home. Kebab shop boy has suggested we do something tomorrow but when I ask what he has in mind he’s charming but non-specific and throws it back to me. We eventually settle on him picking a pub.
11 p.m. — Send my handover email to my colleague who’ll be on duty tomorrow. Wash face, brush teeth, skincare including AHA/BHA serum and hyaluronic acid.
Total: £88.29
8:30 a.m. — Wake up before my alarm. Get up, wash face, brush teeth, do usual skincare. While I make a flask of Earl Grey I pack away dry dishes and put some green tea in a jug of cold water to steep — it’s going to be super warm and I’ll want iced tea later.
10:10 a.m. — Leave the house and walk to pottery. Usually I buy a pastry from the Sainsbury’s en route for breakfast but I have the cheese pretzel from yesterday I forgot to eat.
10:30 a.m. — Pottery time. I have been doing this for just over a year and it’s a really relaxing Sunday activity. I enjoy seeing my work improve and making something with my hands when so much of my job is imaginary stuff in laptops. At the moment I’m learning how to make lidded jars.
1:30 p.m. — Walk home from pottery. I chuck merguez sausage in the oven with purple carrots and pointed green peppers, doused in olive oil, chilli, cumin seed and sumac. I also make freekeh with lemon, spring onion and heaps of coriander and parsley. It takes me ages because in between I empty all the little bins, tidy up the living room, tackle lingering washing up and start tidying my room.
3:30 p.m. — Eat with some iced green tea, pack up two portions for work lunches, wash up, then get back to tidying. I put away clothes from the pile of recently worn, clear my desk, do a spot of dusting and run the hoover round. Then I jump in the shower to wash my hair and shave my legs. Rake some product through my hair and put on some makeup and a red dress.
5:30 p.m. — Leave the house (drop off rubbish and recycling in the big bins). Head to the local pub that kebab shop boy’s picked — it’s one of my favourites. We sit outside and he gets most of our drinks but I sneak a round in, £13.
8:50 p.m. — Conversation is still flowing. We go inside and try to get some dinner but turns out the kitchen is about to close so they’re not serving proper meals; he persuades them to make us some duck spring rolls and prawn toast. He pays.
9:50 p.m. — I invite him back to mine. I play cupboard mixologist again and make us a fizzy little cocktail with St-Germain, Cointreau and lemon verbena and gooseberry cordial. We talk more and generally enjoy each other’s company.
12:45 a.m. — He heads out because of some early morning logistics — we say we’ll see each other soon. Brush teeth, splash some water on my face, head to bed.
Total: £13
“This was an unusually busy week. I don’t usually eat out this much, there were a couple of purchases I don’t make every week and I definitely don’t usually drink this much. Reflecting on how my job has peaks and troughs, I’m not surprised that my spending increases when I have more time to make more plans with friends. I think food/drink is the main way I socialise and I’m happy to prioritise spending on nicer ingredients/restaurants, but I could cut down in this category.”
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