The times they are a-changin'

With alarming regularity, there seems to be some business or other shutting up shop, despite the best efforts of their owner-operators. A message from Adrian’s Bar, in Glasgow, is indicative of the struggle: “It’s no secret that independent bars, restaurants, live venues and creative spaces are struggling right now. It seems places are shutting down week by week, and bit by bit we are losing our places of culture and community. We have been no exception to the hardships facing hospitality and the creative arts, and as a new venue still trying to build up it has been particularly challenging.”

Following the sudden and unexpected death of Ian Foster (1979-2026), who ran the theatre website There Ought To Be Clowns, I’ve tried to take some to consider where I’m at with, well, everything. All is well with the day job. All is well with the night ‘job’ (theatre reviews, in case you didn’t know already). But as the cost-of-living crisis rumbles on – and on – I’ve realised that I’m in bigger trouble financially than I thought I was. And I don’t even have one of those Plan 2 student loans. Having already mortgaged the house to the hilt, another option to get rid of the additional debt I took on, partly to install solar panels on my roof, is to go for one of those individual voluntary arrangements (IVA). I’ve never technically had one of those before: I had a ‘debt management plan’ a few years after leaving university. Some cursory research (Googling and ignoring the AI summary at the top) reveals there are quite a few dodgy IVA operators out there, and it might not be the best option anyway.

To go bankrupt costs £680, and like most people in this economy, I don’t exactly have £680 going spare. Can you afford to go bankrupt? I can’t! So what’s to be done to prevent me living in a tent? This would not, despite what certain politicians think, be a ‘lifestyle choice’. In short, cut spending. In the fullness of time, I want to take advantage of those equity release schemes, but as being 55 years old is still way off into the future (yes, yes, it will come along closer than I think), I’m going to embrace being a tight bastard. I would buy a T-shirt saying ‘Tight Bastard and Proud of It’, but that would be a non-essential spend, and therefore out of the question for a tight bastard. That’s how seriously I’m taking this, all of a sudden.

I have learned and will continue to learn from others – for instance, those who are not inclined, even on hot and sticky summer days, to whip their card out and buy another drink from a theatre bar. “I’m cheap,” one friend told me a few years back. “I only want water.” Hmmm. No more glasses, let alone bottles, of wine for me, unless they’re on the house (those press night drink vouchers shall be appreciated all the more). I’ve also unsubscribed from things. Apparently, I had a subscription to Casting Weekly! I suppose it was useful once upon a time for audition and casting information. Gone. Couple of other websites I don’t use anymore. Subscriptions gone. Two apps all about mental health and mindfulness, useful to me in the pandemic, gone. The surprising one, to me anyway, was The Stage – once a weekly newspaper, now a monthly magazine. One click, ‘Cancel Subscription’. Gone.

Some time ago I registered with Olio and Too Good To Go so I don’t think there’s much more to be done about reducing food spend. I spend less in absolute terms on lunch now than I did when I was a schoolboy and relied on the bank of mum and dad. But will 2026 be my last Edinburgh Fringe until I’m old enough to qualify for equity release? Quite possibly. I’m still going. I’ve paid the hotel bill already and it’s non-refundable. It’s how I got a discount in the first place. But I’ve ruled out going into further debt – not even the overdraft – to put a booking in for Fringe 2027. Nothing wrong with a fallow year: even the Glastonbury Festival does it once in a while. I might get some flack for this but I’m even considering pausing pension contributions for a bit.

For about an hour I regretted contributing to the further decline of hospitality venues by choosing not spending nearly as much in them as I once did. But the ruthless bit of my brain won out. Maybe they were already buggered. I could get used to frugality – I like to think I already am. With love and solidarity to all just trying to keep themselves going.