The
Best Things in Life are Free
By
Dominic Horton
In the song Money (That’s What I Want) Barrett
Strong explained that the best things in life are free but ultimately he wanted
hard cash. We are told that money makes
the world goes round but according to Mark Twain the lack of money is the root
of all evil. One thing is for sure and
that is you do not truly appreciate the value of money until you are on your
uppers, which, like many others, is a state that I am in more often than not,
in my fragile fiscal existence. I realise that things could be a whole lot worse,
especially as essentially I am at least not in debt (well, not in the monetary
sense anyway.)
One person who doesn’t want
money, who has actively rejected it, is Mark Boyle, the Moneyless Man, who spent
a year living without cash, growing his own food and foraging whilst living in
a caravan in a farmer’s field. Boyle
organised everything in a most clever and efficient way for his cashless
existence and was a model of green, ecologically friendly living. The
approach that Boyle took is without doubt admirable and we can all learn
lessons from his experiences (which can be read in his book The Moneyless Manifesto, which you can
read for free online) but freezing in a dark caravan in mid-winter and half
starving to death (due to my general inability to grow anything other than my
modest overdraft and my waistline) and wiping my aris on the local newspaper is
not my idea of fun. But in all
earnestness Boyle’s experiment gives us food for thought and allows us to
critique our often linear view of money, what it is and how it affects all of
our lives.
 |
| Barrett Strong |
Growing your own food could be
seen as being increasingly important given that researchers from University College
London last week explained that in their view we would be better off eating
seven portions of fruit and vegetables a day instead of five. The Pirate, the vivacious landlord of the
serene retreat being the Flagon & Gorses, misunderstood the “7-a-day”
advice and he has been quaffing seven pints of Nottingham Don’s Pale Ale daily. By
following Boyle’s example of providing food by foraging and growing your own it
would at least mean that one would not have to suffer the indignities of valiantly
(or potvaliantly more like) trying to digest the offerings of the chef Mr Ping
at the Rhareli Peking Chinese takeaway.
I would most definitely advise you to not go foraging in the bins of the
Peking as you never know what horrors you might find; it would most likely even
wipe the perma-grin off the boat race of the front of house man the Baby Faced
Assassin.
I should only write kindly words about
the dear old Pirate in this edition as he has had a difficult time recently
after suffering from a heavy cold. I told the Pirate not too worry, that the
cold will soon pass and like Gloria Gaynor he will survive but he responded,
“it is more a case of the record’s B-side, I’m
F*cked but I’ll have a Go.” Tuesday
last he self-medicated by prescribing Nottingham Don’s Pale Ale to dry up his
runny nose and Mount Gay Rum to make him forget why on earth he prescribed
Nottingham DPA to dry up his runny nose. While the Pirate worked his way through DPA/ rum/
tissues Theo Atrical kindly offered to clean up the beautiful, antiquated rose
air vent that sits in the centre of the ceiling in the bar of the Flagon. The Pirate was grateful to Theo for his
offer and he commented that the air vent is an old, ornate feature of the pub
that substantially doesn’t work, to which I retorted, “Pirate, it sounds just
like you.”
 |
| Mark Boyle, the Moneyless Man |
Back to the loose thread of this week’s
offering, being money, which was at the at the forefront of my activities on
Saturday evening, when I was given the night off from the Flagon & Gorses
for good behaviour, as I attended a screening of 97% Owned, a documentary made by an organisation called Positive
Money. The film is about the financial industry and its role in the economy. The
screening was organised by Transition Stourbridge, an environmental group based
around the aforesaid town. As he introduced the film a member of the
group explained that free potatoes, artichokes and plants could be found in the
foyer if attendants wished to take some on the way out; I waited for him to say
that hooky fags, McSporran whisky and dubious pork chops would be flogged on
the cheap after the film but such a comment was not forthcoming.
The film was fascinating and thought
provoking and proffered its view that the control of issuing new money is
largely in the hands of the big commercial banks by way of lending and not
under the jurisdiction of the state, who only issue 3% of all new monies by
means of issue bank notes via the Bank of England. This means that whatever policies the
government choose to employ they cannot properly control the economy. For interested parties you can view the film
via the internet and it is certainly worth a watch. A discussion followed the film where the
audience could proffer their views and members of Positive Money clarified
points made in the film. At the end of
the discussion we were invited to take tea and cake and I had a stark moment of
clarity when I realised it was Saturday night and I found myself in a Quaker
meeting hall with a load of hippy types which is without question terra incognita as far as Lowlife is concerned, so after a quick bite
to eat it was off to the Flagon & Gorses before my withdrawal symptoms
became irreversible.
 |
| The Bisto Advert |
Whilst scoffing my brunch on
Sunday I pondered on a much quoted statistic which was repeated by Mark Boyle
in The Moneyless Manifesto, which
is that in Britain a third of all food is wasted, which is a dreadful state of
affairs, especially given the increasing number of people in the country that rely
on food banks, which I have discussed in this column before. There is never much food waste in my Codger
Mansions headquarters, which can lead to some strange concoctions at times but
to use up some vegetables and garlic that was on the turn on Sunday I made a wonderfully rich tuna and
tomato ragu, which would saw me alright for supper but which has stank the
house out ever since given that it was slow cooked; on my return to the
Mansions from the Flagon it was the exact opposite to the luring aromas of the
Bisto advert of yore and I nearly did an about turn and headed for the
Peking. I am eternally thankful to
myself that I didn’t.
My spendthrift attitude towards food waste is partly due
to economic necessity and in fairness to my dear Mother she sagely forewarned
me in her own way when I was a teenager that frugality is a trait that I would
require in life after she advised, “you will never have any money.” Such words were not a dire forecast of my
future prospects in life but a liberating statement as the subtext said, “you
will never have any money so you might as well not worry about it and enjoy
life for what it is” which I have often heeded to my advantage. That said when you are boracic lint you
cannot exchange advice for a drink in the Flagon, which makes us all slaves to
money to one degree or another. Except
for the Moneyless Man of course.
Another piece of invaluable advice that I have benefitted
from came from my Auntie Anne, my mother’s sister, when I was a child, daunted
by a number of onerous tasks that my Granddad Charlie had set me in his
garden. Like many people of his generation Granddad
grew his own vegetables but unlike Mark Boyle it was not for ideological and
ecological reasons but initially due to post-War austerity. There was always a lot of work for us
grandchildren to assist Granddad with and I fondly remember sitting in the
garden after the work was done with a cup of tea (made with tea leaves), a
digestive biscuit and a warm, satisfied glow.
Anyway, seeing that I was not exhilarated about getting
stuck into the gardening Anne simply said, “just do a bit” which was pure
genius as things no longer seemed so overwhelming and Anne knew that once I
made a start I would soon get through the jobs at hand done, which indeed
turned out to be the case. Throughout
my life I always hark back to the “just do a bit” advice when faced with
burdensome undertakings to complete, such as the writing of this column for
example. So if you take any pleasure
from reading this balderdash, you have not me to thank, but my dear old Auntie
Ann for offering me such shrewd advice, which cost me nothing. This proves the point that, contrary to
Barrett Strong’s desires, the best things in life are indeed free.
©
Dominic Horton, April 2014.
* EMAIL: lordhofr@gmail.com .
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