Upon hanging up the phone with one’s accountant after a long lecture concerning the terminal illness of one’s finances most people would be prompted into drafting up some sort of plan for an economy drive; Sainsbury’s instead of Ocado deliveries, actually making dinner and not reservations, tube instead of cab that sorta thing.
So why did I find my self‐obsessing over luxury? Because I have delusions of grandeur, not any sort of grandeur either really grand grandeur I‘ve been fantasising about having really offensive Oligarch sums of money. The sort of money that gives you freedom. They say money can’t buy you love (and it can’t I concur) what they don’t tell you is what money can buy you.
For me money = freedom and right now I could do with some.
Maserati Quattroporte from £90,000,
Westin Excelsior Hotel‐ Rome $29,000 a night,
Lottery ticket £1 (well, it could be you, I mean me.)