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Sick in bed, and £800 down.

Welcome to Outgoings, a new weekly series where we speak to �鶹ֱ�� members about their weekly outgoings. Real people, real money, real spending habits.

This week: someone who runs content at a London FinTech, earning £80–90k, who spent almost the entire week horizontal with a fever and still managed to part with over £800, most of it without leaving the flat. A quiet masterclass in the art of spending from bed. Let's get into it.

Key facts

Diarist: 34, works in content and brand at a London FinTech

‍Location: East London

Annual salary: £80��-£90��

‍Biggest spend: £239.92 (an ASOS basket, placed feverish, from bed)

‍Smallest spend: £3.00 (two Lucozades, for two sick-notes)

�鶹ֱ�� member since: 2023

I'm 34, and I'm responsible for all things "content" at a London FinTech – think creators, brand, activations, comms, the lot. It's a long and, frankly, misunderstood to-do list; too many people still think this side of marketing is "all fluff." Really the job is to get the brand known by as many people as possible, for the reasons we actually want to be known for.

I live in East London with my husband and a rotating door of family members making the most of our second bedroom. My take-home sits in the £4–5k a month bracket. I pay £1,600 into a joint account that covers my half of the mortgage and bills, though I then spend an absolute fortune outside of that on food. I've developed an unhealthy habit of ordering Ocado Zoom.

My relationship with money is turbulent. I had no financial education growing up. Money was a strange topic even as a kid: no memory of anyone worrying about it, and then suddenly, in my teens, "we have no money" arrived as a weekly threat. It never changed how anyone actually spent, but it clearly shaped me. I've inherited a fair bit over the years, spent it all, been in debt a couple of times, and now, in my 30s, I'm finally levelling out the anxiety money gives me.

For context: when I was 14, I babysat for the neighbours. One night the dad drove me home and told me, "You make money to spend money, it's there to be spent." Not sure he should've been handing out financial advice, but it's a mantra I've clearly adopted. So… thanks, pal.

Take-home: £4–5k / month · Mortgage & bills: £1,600 · Week total: £802.24 · Transactions: 20

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Day 01 · Monday · East London — £123.84

I'm sick. Ugh. Gross. Clearly not leaving the house today, so TfL will have to wait another day to charge me for the privilege of a commute. But I need supplies, I'm home alone, and there's no one to fetch them. Oh — and I'm apparently meant to be at a boxing class. Too late to cancel. Damn.

08:40 · £14.00 — Classpass. A late fee, charged for no-showing the boxing class I was too ill to attend and too late to cancel. Boo hoo. Where is the justice? Feeling: sad, mad, sick.

10:15 · £33.65 — Ocado Zoom. No Boots or supermarket within walking distance, so I lean on Zoom heavily. It's sort of the love of my life at this stage. I accept the hiked prices willingly, purely to be lazy: medicine galore, grapes, Lucozade, and a truly heroic quantity of tissues. Feeling: sick as a pig, but hungry for the pea soup arriving in 60 minutes.

13:50 · £76.20 — Boots. I need to replace my Loop earplugs (there's an offer on), plus the 'blue' Method body wash my sister is obsessed with — she's visiting this weekend, so I stock up — plus my husband's weird iron-and-magnesium drink supplement, which he's run out of. Feeling: confused. Why do four items come to £70? Cost of living in full swing.

Somehow I've spent over £100 without leaving the house. London, baby.

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Day 02 · Tuesday · East London — £239.92

Still sick. Are you serious? Slack from bed it is, then.

14:20 · £239.92 — ASOS. I'm having my sixth identity crisis of the year, and a throat that feels like it's on fire is doing nothing for the self-esteem. I browse from bed and apply the "that'll go straight in my basket" logic to a thousand variations of the same tank top, a long denim skirt that could be a genuine hit or make me look like someone's mum, and some trousers that could pass as pyjamas. Next-day delivery? Sure, go on then. Feeling: like I'm going to return everything.

Guilty. Anything over £50 always makes me anxious, even though I do it literally every day. I take an age to reach checkout (some strange mental block) and then spend anyway. Every time.

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Day 03 · Wednesday · East London — £122.91

Day three in the Big Brother house. Still bed-bound, but a fraction more human than yesterday.

11:05 · £30.12 — Comedy show tickets. My sister's visiting this weekend and we've decided on a show in central London. Two tickets. Feeling: hopeful I'll be well in time, and quietly pleased that £15 a head is decent value for a "thing to do" on a London Saturday.

16:30 · £92.79 — Trainline. My other sister calls: she wants to surprise our grandad for his birthday next week. I want to see her, and him, and I'm too fatigued to overthink it, so I book a day return. Almost £100. I don't want to get political, but UK rail fares are WILD. Feeling: annoyed. But remembering it's for the plot / being a good granddaughter.

I justify a lot of spending as "making memories," which I think is both the best possible reason to spend on experiences and a genuinely slippery slope for good financial management. But hey, life is for living and money is for spending. Right? RIGHT?!

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Day 04 · Thursday · London — £4.89

Still a bit groggy, but there's a company team day and I've taken the whole week off sick so far, so I feel the peer pressure to show my face. What a people-pleaser. Hopefully it's good vibes and I just need a hot shower, a Lucozade and some fresh air.

08:05 · £4.89 — Corner shop. Throat still scratchy and I don't want to cough on my colleagues, so: a pack of Strepsils on the way to the station. Feeling: optimistic for the day, and really hoping I'm sweating because it's 27 degrees, not because I'm about to be a super-spreader.

Proud of myself for leaving the house. Possibly should've left the event early and gone to bed; despite getting home at 9pm, I feel like I've pushed it. Oh well, day off tomorrow. WAIT...my sister arrives in 12 hours. Ahhhh.

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Day 05 · Friday · East London — £89.45

Alarm at 6am. Yes, we have a company day off. No, I do not get to rest, I'm turning my flat into a hotel for my sister's visit. I am the least chill host alive, so the next five hours are cleaning and panic-spending to make her stay lovely.

07:40 · £51.60 — Deliveroo. Several bunches of eucalyptus for the flat, a candle, floor cleaner, some fruit, and cans of DASH water for the fridge to really lean into the luxury. Feeling: like I have a real problem dropping £50 a pop on delivery and not clocking it as real money until the end-of-month review. Convenience really does have a price.

09:30 · £8.60 — TfL. Leftover travel from yesterday's team day. Feeling: indifferent. The London tax we all pay.

12:15 · £4.07 — Aldi. Walked past, couldn't resist checking the frozen Plant Kitchen range, left with vegan chick'n kievs and a pack of frozen Frickles (fried pickles). Why? Feeling: curious about the frickles, confused about the decision.

18:00 · £25.18 — GoDaddy. My other sister and I are setting up a side business, and after one of our many, many WhatsApp-calls-turned-business-meetings I finally bought the domain so we can crack on with the admin. Feeling: relieved to have acted on a decision I'd put off repeatedly. Why do I drag my heels about spending sometimes?

Proud of myself for not buying a coffee while I was out. Or lunch. I do love a little treat. In fact, not a day goes by without one. Problematic psychology, that.

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Day 06 · Saturday · London — £186.64

The full day with my sister. Action-packed (Type A, hello), and I'm a "generous" girl likely to offer to pay for many things. She was raised the same way, obviously, so she suffers from it too. I pity any waiter who has to watch us fight over whose card taps the machine first.

09:20 · £25.80 — SUBA. Took my sister and her fiancé to one of the East London bakeries. Obviously paid for us all: three oat flat whites, three pastries. Feeling: worth every penny. I'd pay double for the Monkey Bread — well, not really, but the sentiment should be recorded.

11:45 · £85.00 — Hackney Flea. I somehow resisted £35 coasters (gorgeous) after a genuine 15-minute paralysis, felt smug about the saving, then got promptly reeled in by a vintage Levi jacket. I was doing so well. Feeling: annoyed the seller wouldn't knock even a fiver off. I asked so nicely. These vintage sellers know exactly what they're doing.

13:30 · £21.12 — 215 Café. A well-earned vegan brunch (essentially an elite full English) with another flat white. Split three ways, everyone paid their own. Feeling: full up.

16:10 · £3.00 — Corner shop. My husband now has the plague too. Two Lucozades on the way home. Essential fuel for the sick. Feeling: low energy, but nothing this can't solve. I hope. Long day ahead.

18:40 · £9.00 — The Winemakers Club. Passed a cute wine bar en route to the comedy show and couldn't resist a glass and a game of Monopoly Deal. My staff-pick wine should've been £6, but we split the bill evenly three ways, so £9 each with service. Standard London, though cheaper if we'd paid our own way. Feeling: elated because I won Monopoly Deal.

21:30 · £42.72 — Fonda, Mayfair. Dua Lipa loves it, apparently. Turns out I do too. Great vegan options for me, even better ones for my pescatarian sister, and a genuinely interesting margarita. Would recommend to a friend. Feeling: full, tired, ready for bed.

What a day. When I've got family or friends visiting, I try not to fret about the total, I just make sure everything we spend on feels "worth it," not frivolous.

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Day 07 · Sunday · East London — £34.59

A chilled day planned. Likely not leaving the house. Hopefully balancing out yesterday's energy-spend and money-spend.

10:50 · £6.40 — TfL. Leftover travel from yesterday's adventures – we walked 25k steps, so barely touched public transport. Feeling: fine.

14:15 · £22.99 — Electrolux. The washing machine has broken. Of course it has. Feeling: thankful we can hopefully fix it for under £25 and avoid a) a pricier part, b) an engineer, or c) a whole new machine.

16:00 · £5.20 — Corner shop. It's hot in the flat, my husband's still sick, my fatigue has sunk back in. I run down for two ice creams, because everyone deserves a little joy on a Sunday. Feeling: like the vegan Magnum is actually… alright?

Nothing more to report. An average day.

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What the week says

Three things stayed with us after reading it.

£800, and she barely left the flat. Our diarist spent the week ill in bed – one commute avoided, most days spent horizontal, and still moved £802 out the door. Ocado, Deliveroo, ASOS, Boots: almost all of it tapped from under a duvet. This is the modern spending trap in miniature. You don't need a big night out or a holiday to burn through it; you need a phone, a fever, and next-day delivery. As she put it herself, the delivery spend doesn't feel like real money until the end-of-month review lands.

The mantra vs the checkout. "You make money to spend money; it's there to be spent." And yet anything over £50 gives her genuine anxiety, she stalls for an age before hitting pay, and she once spent 15 real minutes deadlocked over a set of £35 coasters. That's the actual texture of a lot of people's spending: not careless, not careful, but both at once. She spends constantly and dreads every single checkout. The contradiction is the relationship.

The "worth it" test. Notice what she defends and what she quietly regrets. The bill she fought her sister to pay, the bakery run, the Fonda dinner, all filed under "making memories," all worth it. The one thing she'd take back is the vintage Levi jacket: the money she spent on herself, alone, for no one. When the spending is for other people it barely registers as a cost. When it's just for her, the guilt shows up. Most of us run some version of that test without ever naming it.

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The reflections

Most defended: "Dinner at Fonda. It was delicious and somewhere my sister and her fiancé were really keen to try. Even though we didn't sit down until 9pm, it was worth it. The staff were incredible and the food and drinks earned the price."

Quietly taken back: "The vintage Levi jacket. It's nice, but was it worth the money? No."

Almost spent on, didn't: "Coffee. I've got a Watch House habit every morning on my way to work. Being sick kept me out of the office all week, so the habit took a breather."

Surprising: "How much the small spends add up. Even on a day that feels 'cheap,' it can still land at nearly £90."

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Outgoings is a weekly diary series from �鶹ֱ��. Every Thursday, one anonymous member takes us through a week of their spending life. To write one, submit an application .