Cost of Living

It sucks.

How Much More Are People Supposed to Take?

What the hell is going on? I’m looking at the reports from France and wondering how many more people have to march through the streets before governments understand that being able to afford your life is a fairly basic fucking expectation.

The protests over living costs and public services have descended into violence in places. Shops damaged, buildings burning, people hurt. And somewhere underneath the smoke are people who wanted to say something perfectly reasonable: we cannot keep doing this. We cannot keep paying more and having less.

I understand that anger. Here in Australia, you can do the sensible things, watch your spending, cut back, shop carefully, and still feel as though you’re going backwards. Groceries, electricity, insurance, housing. Every bill arrives wanting a bigger piece of money that was already accounted for. What exactly are we supposed to cut next? Eating? Heating? Having a bloody roof?

My house had doubled in value over the last 11 years. Doubled! I barely managed to buy it! How are kids supposed to buy a house? Live in it? That's assuming they can get and keep a job that AI is barking up the tree beneath them...

And please spare me another lecture about budgeting. A budget tells you where the money goes. It doesn’t magically produce enough of it. There is something deeply insulting about telling people to manage their money better when they’re already standing in a supermarket putting things back.

Then Trump weighs in, blaming immigration. How convenient to have a ready-made target whenever something goes wrong. I’d like to hear rather more about how people are supposed to afford food, fuel and somewhere to live. A scapegoat won’t pay the electricity bill.

I don’t support burning somebody’s business or destroying public buildings. Some poor bastard loses their livelihood, workers lose shifts, and the repair bill lands somewhere. But condemning the destruction cannot be the entire response. The people marching peacefully still deserve an answer when the streets have been swept.

That’s what bothers me. The cameras will move on. The speeches will finish. People will go home to the same unpaid bills and the same dread of the next one.

We are asking for an ordinary life with a little breathing room. Enough to cover the essentials without feeling sick every time an envelope arrives. Perhaps even enough left to enjoy being alive.

If governments cannot understand why that matters, they need to spend less time explaining the economy to us and more time listening to the people trying to survive in it.

Sitting Wondering How I Got Here

I’m currently sitting at the emergency department, which sounds worse than it is. My left hip joint is in agony!!! Not enough to stop me blogging but I’ve had it now for a week and sometimes blogging is the furthest thing from my mind!

Plus they’ve given me drugs! Yay!

How Much More Are People Supposed to Take?

What the hell is going on? I’m looking at the reports from France and wondering how many more people have to march through the streets before governments understand that being able to afford your life is a fairly basic fucking expectation.

The protests over living costs and public services have descended into violence in places. Shops damaged, buildings burning, people hurt. And somewhere underneath the smoke are people who wanted to say something perfectly reasonable: we cannot keep doing this. We cannot keep paying more and having less.

I understand that anger. Here in Australia, you can do the sensible things, watch your spending, cut back, shop carefully, and still feel as though you’re going backwards. Groceries, electricity, insurance, housing. Every bill arrives wanting a bigger piece of money that was already accounted for. What exactly are we supposed to cut next? Eating? Heating? Having a bloody roof? Because our wages sure as hell aren't keeping up with the cost of living!!

And please spare me another lecture about budgeting. A budget tells you where the money goes. It doesn’t magically produce enough of it. There is something deeply insulting about telling people to manage their money better when they’re already standing in a supermarket putting things back.

Then Trump weighs in, blaming immigration. How convenient to have a ready-made target whenever something goes wrong. I’d like to hear rather more about how people are supposed to afford food, fuel and somewhere to live. A scapegoat won’t pay the electricity bill.

I don’t support burning somebody’s business or destroying public buildings. Some poor bastard loses their livelihood, workers lose shifts, and the repair bill lands somewhere. But condemning the destruction cannot be the entire response. The people marching peacefully still deserve an answer when the streets have been swept.

That’s what bothers me. The cameras will move on. The speeches will finish. People will go home to the same unpaid bills and the same dread of the next one.

We are asking for an ordinary life with a little breathing room. Enough to cover the essentials without feeling sick every time an envelope arrives. Perhaps even enough left to enjoy being alive.

If governments cannot understand why that matters, they need to spend less time explaining the economy to us and more time listening to the people trying to survive in it.

Scammers Have Made Answering the Phone a Bloody Risk

What a miserable fucking achievement: creating a world where someone rings to say they’re helping you, and your first thought has to be, “Are you trying to rob me?”

I nearly fell for it. A man with an English accent rang claiming to be from my bank. My account had been compromised, he said. My money was at risk. It was imperative that I move it immediately. He kept pushing the urgency, and when someone tells you your savings are in danger, it’s surprisingly easy to get caught up in doing whatever supposedly needs to be done. 

The sounds behind them sound like a big bank. People rushing, conversations, phones ringing...

Except there was a little niggling voice in my head. Something wasn’t right, I wasn't quite sure. That doubt saved me.

But what about the people who don’t get that warning? Or who do, but the bloke on the phone sounds so convincing that they push it aside? He knows how to answer their questions. He sounds calm while they’re panicking. He’s supposedly the person who can stop something terrible happening. You can see how easily someone could follow his instructions and hand their savings straight to the bastard thief.

And then comes the inevitable commentary. “I would never fall for that.” Congratulations on your imaginary performance in a situation you weren’t actually in. It’s easy to spot the trap when someone has already pointed it out. Quite different when you’re frightened and someone is talking you through an urgent “solution”. As it worked out, I transferred money into my partner's account until I worked out what was what.

The scum have little care what that money represents. Years of working. Going without. A buffer against the next bill, the next emergency, the next thing life throws at you. They’ll take the lot and leave someone sitting at their kitchen table wondering how the hell they’re going to manage. Then they’ll ring the next person.

That’s what makes me so angry. The theft, obviously, but also what they’ve done to everyday trust. We’re suspicious of phone calls, messages, emails - even offers of help. We have to keep shutting out outside voices because we can’t be sure who is speaking or what they want. And when it all goes to hell in a handbasket, the big banks don't want to know you. They couldn't care less. Even though they see you drawing big chunks of money. It's not their fault. It's criminal the way they behave.

I’m grateful for that little niggling voice. But nobody should have to rely on a flicker of doubt to protect everything they’ve worked for. And anyone who has lost money deserves some bloody compassion. The shame belongs to the calculating pricks who stole it.

The more I hear of it, the more I'm hoping for a beekeeper to come into the world...