If I'm really honest, it's been something of a polyamorus affair, I don't think it's been the same guy every time; an ever-changing line-up of friendly fellows who come in through the front gate and give me a wave as they place the parcel on the front step.

I did shock one of them one very early morning as he persistently knocked at the front door until I answered. Nothing like an old lady in her negligee to shock a delivery man into leaving said delivery in a safe place and retreat into his own safe space.

But at some point close to Christmas, perhaps just after the credit card bill landed, I decided we needed to break up. I began to question my shopping habits and what it all meant, not to mention the dollars which were flying from my account quicker than the early-bird delivery man flew from the yard.

When I moved into my new home in 2020 I wanted things to be mine. I bought new furniture, new plates, new sheets and towels, for the first time in almost 40 years I bought a few pot plants. I found a new place for the old things that mattered, a painting above my bed that takes me to a favourite spot, photographs of the children, but it was nice to have plenty of new stuff for my new life.

I bought a new car, a brand new car, I'd never had one before, but why not and, while clothes and shoes have never been my thing, my wardrobe expanded (as my waistline did during lockdown).

But then I decided enough was enough. Come January 1 I decided I would not spend any more money on stuff. 2022 is my year of buying nothing.

It's now mid March and I'm proud to say the budget is still on track. While I've had a few trips away (did you miss me?), and treated myself to the occasional magazine or seven, I have managed not to buy any more stuff.

I have reached that point in my life where I have realised I don't need any more vases, just more flowers to put in them; or any more platters, just more friends around my dinner table to serve.

So it's made the discussion of the spiralling cost of living even more interesting.

I've never been one to write a budget, let alone stick to it, but with my new year's resolution the diary I bought this year included a section on savings. It's been interesting to see where my limited funds have been going. We're all spending more money on the essentials: food, petrol, rent. I'm suddenly interested in the upcoming federal budget.

I know I saved money in a few areas. I'm not drinking. That was a scary equation when I worked out what a few bottles a week were costing. And not just in dollars.

My vegetable garden too has proved fruitful. A planting of spinach which went berserk over winter providing me with greens, my late summer tomatoes are on the plate every night, spring onions are plentiful, the occasional cucumber, herbs and lettuce. It's all a dollar or two at the supermarket.

I've also cut down on the amount of meat I've been eating, indulging in a top-grade piece of steak every other week, or slow-cooking a cheaper cut. I can't remember the last time I ate takeaway, apart from some fish and chips on the beach. But that doesn't count.

What does count is how content I feel. An email from a favourite online clothing store lobs in my inbox and I delete it, something drops into my Instagram feed and for two seconds I contemplate that gorgeous set of duck blue linen bed sheets, but then I scroll on by.

In her book Practising Simplicity: Small steps and brave choices for a life less distracted, which I've written about here in Relax, Jodi Wilson talks about how she discovered she didn't need that much to live well. She packed her family of six into a caravan and hit the road. I'm not planning on anything as dramatic as that.

But what I am planning to do more is live in the moment. I'm not going to feel guilty about finding joy in the occasional thing. I love a good piece of pottery, the smell of a new book, a dress with pockets.

But what's the point of all these things if you're not sharing them with people you love, creating memories. It's not about spending dollars but spending time.