I’m at home today, the third and final day of an emergency trip home to visit my dad who’s not had the best of health this 2017. I’ve been grateful that I could come and visit at short notice and that all my siblings showed up this weekend to visit me. It’s the first time since November 2014 that we’ve all been in the same place and I feel nothing but love and gratitude for this opportunity. There’s a small downside, however! My flights here will take up 12 hours by the time I get back to London and I’d have only spent about 24 quality hours with my dad before I leave. It’s only because I’m currently beholden to work and could not, in good conscience, abandon my colleagues for longer than this whilst we were in the middle of the most important phase of our delivery cycle. So, this morning I woke up and just had to make another attempt at a FIRE PLAN.
Hopefully there will be many more days like this one even as I plan for FIRE
I like a good time. I like lush surroundings. Jet-setting. I like the flexibility of being able to change my train or plane tickets. Personal space. Comfort. Cool sheets. Temperature-controlled environments. I like fresh food. In-season produce. Fair-trade and organic food. I like durable clothes. Expensive shoes. The latest gadgets. Wonderful experiences. Unforgettable memories. Instagram-worthy photos. I love all of this but the thing is, I can’t afford it all. 
I came out of my hotel room and walked with swag to the hotel reception to checkout. I was proud of the fact that I’d come in massively within budget and had more than enough cash to settle the additional charges for my hotel room. The receptionist hands over my bill and all I can see is a bill for £1067(!) when I’d been expecting to pay for the one £23 breakfast buffet meal that I’d charged to my room. My eyes popped but I tried really quickly to cover the alarm bells. We usually get hotel bookings made centrally so that no one has to settle such huge bills on their personal cards but it appeared that someone had forgotten to do so. 
I named this blog “Diary of a reformed spendthrift” after I had the epiphany that I had been living a life of financial irresponsibility. It’s past tense and alludes to the fact that I’m a finished product, that knowledge of my previous state of mind would automatically propel me to the destination that I seek – one of luxurious thrift. My previous posts on failing my 
Diary of a reforming spendthrift 