From a £263 birthday dinner to a 16p Uber fee.
Welcome to Outgoings, a weekly series where we speak to Yonder members about her weekly outgoings. Real people, real money, real spending habits.
This week: a programme manager for the NHS, earning £4.5k a month, who lives in East London with her spouse and their chronically ill "foster-fail" cat. Over a week that included her own birthday, she spent £777.00 across 19 transactions — swinging between carefully planned non-negotiables like a fortnightly cleaner and a dedicated "Uber for health" pot, and a couple of in-the-moment splurges she was quick to regret, from a £263 birthday dinner to drinks that "weren't even nice." Let's get into it.
Key facts
Diarist: 37, a programme manager who spends her days leading big-picture change management across the NHS
Location: East London (lives with partner)
Salary: £65-75k
Biggest spend: £263.35 (birthday dinner for two)
Smallest spend: 16p (Uber late fee)
I'm 37 (just) and I work as a programme manager in the NHS, leading big-picture change management, a very effective way to learn that almost nobody wants the future you're building for them, however good it might be. I live in East London with my husband and our chronically ill foster-fail cat, adopted on the understanding it was only ever a foster arrangement, an understanding the cat never signed up to.
My relationship with money in one sentence: strictly planned but impulsive and privileged. Going in, I knew this would be a week of two things pulling against each other: the sinking pots I've built for exactly this kind of stretch, and my own birthday, which falls right in the middle of it and has never once respected a budget.
Take-home: £4.5k / month · Rent: £2k, split with partner · Week total: £777 · Transactions: 19
Day 01 · Monday · East London — £139
Back from a week away and reality lands hard. At least it's a work-from-home day — no commute, no more bleeding cash at holiday rates.
19:00 · £80.00 — Arcade tickets. Booked for everyone coming to my birthday party this weekend. Not remotely in the mood to be decisive, but decisive nonetheless. Feeling: mildly proud, mildly aware of what this is going to cost me later.
20:00 · £43.50 — The fortnightly cleaner. Non-negotiable. My free time does not go towards scrubbing floors, and I timed this one deliberately so the house would be clean for day one back. Feeling: smug, deserved.
n/a · £15.50 — TfL. One lone Elizabeth line fare from Heathrow finally lands on my statement, from the night before. Ludicrous overcharge. Feeling: robbed, but resigned.
Booking a party means I already know what's coming: a burger, and drinks I probably don't need. No regrets yet.
Day 02 · Tuesday · London — £19.70
Another work-from-home day, so another day I don't have to feel the commute tax. Still not fully back into the swing of things, but reminding myself: this is how the money keeps coming in. Evening plans redeem the day: theatre with a friend.
17:30 · £7.20 — Train fare. A mad dash to make it to the theatre on time. Feeling: grateful I don't do this every day.
18:30 · £12.50 — Bubbles. My friend and I do the whole "no pressure to drink just because the other one is" bit, then order them anyway. It's the theatre, obviously. Feeling: predictable, but happy.
Late finish, dark walk home after the train, and I talk myself out of an Uber. Big spending week ahead. Got to pick my battles.
Day 03 · Wednesday · London — £300.07
It's my birthday today, and I'm working. Small mercy: at least it's from home. No annual leave left, and no appetite for an unpaid day off just to mark turning a year older. Dinner with my husband tonight is doing the heavy lifting.
18:00 · £263.35 — Birthday dinner for two. Earlier sitting for a slightly cheaper rate, the cake add-on, and a bonus course I say yes to mid-meal because it's my birthday and I'll eat if I want to (which turns out to be £15 each, not one between us). Bubbles for me (the £18, not the flashier £25 rosé... not tonight) and house wine for him. The service charge finishes off any hope of hitting my £175 budget. Our own error on the extra course, so no complaints out loud (though it gets relitigated with every friend for the rest of the week). Feeling: happy, then mildly stung.
20:30 · £33.12 — Uber. Walking's hard tonight. The joint toll of a disability and one too many days out of the house in a row. Comes straight out of my "Uber for health" pot, built for exactly this. Feeling: grateful for past-me, secretly pleased about the card points.
n/a · £3.60 — TfL. One-way, at least cheaper than yesterday. Feeling: fine, whatever.
No regrets about the dinner. But I clock, even as it's happening, how easily the moment pulls me past what I meant to spend.
Day 04 · Thursday · London — £6.40
Actual office day. Breakfast at home, coffee made for the train, lunch packed like a functioning adult. Small victories.
n/a · £6.40 — Train in and back from the office. Feeling: unremarkable, and I like it that way.
Tempted by an Uber home after a late one, but I resist. The sinking pot isn't limitless, and neither is my patience for spending on nights I don't need to.
Day 05 · Friday · East London — £82.92
00:00 · £55.92 — Weekly meal kit order, charged overnight while I slept. Non-negotiable: I can't run at the pace my job asks of me and also do every single chore. Feeling: fine with it, mostly.
n/a · £27.00 — Grocery run for weekend veg, plus every yellow-sticker and "too good to waste" item I can find. Grateful, too, for past-me having stashed frozen meals in the freezer for nights exactly like this one. Feeling: thrifty, a little smug.
Always laugh at the whiplash: hundreds on a meal out one night, hunting discount veg the next. To me, it's the value that counts, not the price tag. Every penny still matters.
Day 06 · Saturday · London — £77.61
11:00 · £15.16 — Uber to a medical appointment, plus a 16p late fee. Charged a late fee because for once the uber was just around the corner and got here before I was ready. More annoyed at the late fee (16p) than having to get an uber to an appointment. Disability-tax I’m used to. Feeling: outraged, over sixteen pence, obviously.
13:00 · £8.50 — Mocktail to kick off my birthday party. Feeling: not checking prices today.
13:00 · £20.75 — Burger and fries at the party. Feeling: happy, hungry.
13:00 · £14.00 — Birthday cocktail. Feeling: festive, slightly reckless.
15:00 · £19.20 — Uber home. Part of the plan, if pricier than usual. Feeling: fine with it, mostly.
Reviewing the spend later, I reckon I'd have had just as good a time for less.
Day 07 · Sunday · East London — £151.30
Lazy Sunday. Admin day. This is usually where the week's money quietly disappears: planning ahead, restocking, locking things in.
09:00 · £25.00 — London Theatre Week. Spotted a deal on my phone. Text a friend, lock it in within minutes. Feeling: delighted, bargain-brained.
11:00 · £50.00 — Bathroom restock. Reviewed what needs to be bought for the house with my husband, stock up on bathroom products, ensuring to hit the delivery minimum for free shipping. Feeling: efficient.
18:00 · £76.30 — Coffee pods on a discount code. I ordered them to just hit the deal's minimum. Feeling: satisfied, slightly ridiculous about how much thought went into coffee.
Love London Theatre Week. Love a bargain. Love that both happened before lunch.
What the week says
Three things stayed with us after reading it.
A pot with a name, for exactly this moment. This week runs on pre-agreed systems: a fortnightly cleaner, a weekly meal kit, a sinking pot literally labelled "Uber for health." None of it is indulgence, it's infrastructure, built in advance to cover the days she can't otherwise get through. This is economical forethought borne out of necessity. The boring, structural kind that keeps a big week like this one from tipping into a problem.
Two mornings-after, same shape. Twice this week the systems clocked off and the moment took over: a £15-a-head bonus course said yes to mid-birthday-dinner, and a round of party drinks that, in her own words, "weren't even nice." Both were unplanned, in-the-room decisions, and both came with a flicker of regret by the next day. It's the oldest trap in spending: the plan holds right up until there's a menu, a friend, and an occasion in front of you.
Yellow stickers, the same week as a £263 dinner. Notice below what she defend and what she quietly takes back. The birthday dinner she'd pay for again without blinking, while the party drinks are the one thing she'd claw back. Even mid-birthday-week, she's still timing a coffee order around a discount code and hunting yellow-sticker veg. It's never really about the size of the number. It's whether the spend clears her own bar for worth it.
The reflections
Most defended: "The £263 birthday dinner. I liked it, and I can afford it because I budget for it and plan accordingly (as well as obviously being incredibly privileged to earn what I do)."
Quietly taken back: "Birthday party drinks, weren’t even nice."
Almost spent on, didn't: "More theatre tickets to more shows on sale. After a big spending week I decided I need to boost my savings back up first."
Surprising: "On two occasions I got caught up in the moment and spent more than planned and regretted elements of it. Most spendings are planned and therefore come with no guilt. On the other end of the spectrum, they’re impulsive and bring regret."
Outgoings is a weekly diary series from Yonder. Every Thursday, one anonymous member takes us through a week of their spending life. To write one, submit an application here.
