Most of us now have multiple online subscriptions which make us vulnerable to fraud. Scammers can steal from Uber and Deliveroo, the life-support systems of our offspring. The kids have signed our family up to Disney+ and so many other channels that I barely know what they are. Mum gets teased about her ignorance and I always laughed along merrily. Now I see such casual assignment of my credit card to providers unknown as stupid and dangerous.
Cash being usurped by contactless payments has only added to the heedless, spending-money-like-water phenomenon which is so alien to my mother and members of her thrifty wartime generation. When my sister and I were growing up, Mum had a housekeeping ledger, a ring-back notebook, in which every expense was recorded. There was a separate, smaller book by the phone to note the length of calls. Heated and loud were the remonstrations if you dared to go over a certain number of minutes. Would-be boyfriends proved their devotion by having a large pile of change for the phone box. Alas, the sound of the pips followed by a coin clunking into the slot to buy a few more precious seconds of long-distance longing is now as extinct as the love letter.
Compare and contrast with my recent visit to the Vodafone shop, where I signed up to a contract only slightly less incomprehensible than the Treaty of Versailles. As I left the shop, the manager asked pleasantly, “And how would you describe the way you feel after your experience with us…
