Maybe I'm a Rich Man?*

“Go on, you can afford it.  You’re a rich man.”

That was the second part of Rachel’s answer to my question, the first part being “Four cases of champagne.” 

She’s right, of course, I can afford it.  After all, it’s not that often you clock up a decade, is it?  And there was that unexpected tax rebate last year, when a party seemed to be the consensus.  But rich man?  Am I?  I’ve never really thought about it.

Okay, I own this house.  But I can’t spend that.  I have a few shares of various sorts; again, hardly worth cashing in for maybe 80% of what I paid for them.  And there’s some money in the bank (I think – you can’t be sure these days, can you, especially when it’s that particular bank.)   I couldn’t go down the shops and buy an executive jet or a small island (though those are going quite cheap at the moment I’m told) or a flat in the Shard.  To be truly rich, you need to be able to buy an Aston Martin, without thinking too hard about it; and then another one; and, crucially, still have more money afterwards than you had before.  If I tried a fraction of any of those things I’d be instantly poor.

I’m going off the idea anyway.  To be properly rich, you have to feel rich, look rich, behave rich.  And there’s the defences, the staff, the advisors …  It all sounds like a lot of effort.

But I can definitely run to a few bottles of fizz.  So don’t panic, I’ll get the bubbly, Rach.  And a new pair of shoes.  And maybe some diamonds to stick on the soles, just for the hell of it.

*Of course, as soon as I'd posted this I thought of a much better title, so I've changed it.  God knows what confusion this will cause.