I don’t remember spending reviews being such a media event in previous years. But this week’s got nearly as much attention as a Budget – despite telling us almost nothing we didn’t already know.
I suppose it’s because the free-spending days for Britain are long gone. Everyone is now watching their pennies.
Of course even before the financial crisis, Brexit, Covid, and the war in Ukraine, there was never enough money.
But after all these shocks the country has become like a working class family of yesteryear who has fallen on hard times.
The head of the household budget takes the too-slim pay packet from the breadwinner – and any pocket money scavenged up by the kids – and parcels it out into envelopes and jars to budget for the month ahead.
Food. Rent. Money for the coal man.
A few little treats for the baby.
It’s tough. More money is going out – but not enough is coming in.
It’s not that Rachel Reeves is taking us back to post-financial crisis austerity.
Rather it’s that not enough money is being generated at the top of the funnel to pay for the British state that we’re used to, let alone the one we aspire to be.
Tax…
This lack of cash persists even as the government taxes us until we squeak.
The average Briton was handing over all their income to HMRC until the Thursday just gone – the so-called Tax Freedom Day for 2025.
To quote the right-wing Adam Smith Institute:
Tax Freedom Day [fell] on the 12th June.
This year, Brits are working 162 days solely to pay taxes, six days longer than last year.
But [we] expect that by 2028 the UK will have its latest Tax Freedom Day ever, 24th June.
This would mean that the tax burden could be higher than it was during WW2 and The Napoleonic Wars.
This is based on current Government taxation and spending plans, and OBR projections.
By as soon as 2030, Tax Freedom Day could fall over half way through the year with taxation exceeding 50% of Net National Income.
The research also shows that the rich are carrying an increasingly large proportion of income tax.
Cost of Government Day, which factors in borrowing as well as taxes, is July 22nd – the latest since the pandemic.
The Adam Smith Institute has its own agenda to promote. But you can’t really argue with the numbers.
…and spend
I didn’t find much to object to in the spending review, in terms of where the money is going.
The tilt towards thinking about the future versus short-term bungs is admirable, in so far as it went.
Support for infrastructure and house building is sensible. Insulating Britain’s draughty homes and money for more nuclear reactors are no-brainers if you believe like I do that humanity is behind in the battle to avert serious climate change.
Higher defence spending is inevitable. Albeit frustrating in that if it works as a deterrent, then we (hopefully) won’t ever use in anger much of the expensive hardware we’ll be paying for.
Personally I’d like to see far more spent on education and training. A better educated and more skilful population could help to address Britain’s lamentably low productivity.
More capable homegrown workers are also necessary to fill the structural vacancies following Brexit, especially if – as I accept is politically required – immigration is to really be brought down.
Not least when it comes to building those 1.5m new homes we’re promised.
Little Britain
Of course we all have our priorities as to how the government should redirect that tax money it takes in.
Have a read of the links below. Applaud or fume to suit your fancy.
What did dismay me though was the nationalistic tone of some of Reeves’ rhetoric.
Britain will make this! British workers will do that!
As if this isn’t obvious.
And as if doing it ourselves is always the best solution versus trade.
Well, it’s not.
Just one example is the hullabaloo over British Steel. Despite various governments intervening and spending to keep this industry on its last legs for decades, the total number of workers employed has fallen from over 330,000 in the 1970s to barely 30,000 today.
We’re producing vastly less steel too.
But is that such a tragedy?
If you are a steel worker and you can’t find work elsewhere, then yes – and Britain for sure did a lamentable job in helping its skilled workers as their industries declined through the 1970s and 1980s.
But from a national perspective?
The world makes far too much steel. That’s why there’s a glut and why these plants are permanently imperilled. And with our high energy costs and general dislike of dirty and polluting industries, Britain is one of the worst places in the world to make it. Not that we even need so much of the stuff these days.
But that’s fine. We can just import it and do other things we’re better at!
The idea that Britain can – or should – have an independent steel-making industry is for the birds, and for Reform voters.
Britain isn’t even self-sufficient when it comes to food. In any now-unthinkable conventional war where imports were somehow permanently blockaded, we’d half-starve.
Besides even if we have steel plants, we don’t produce our own coking coal or iron ore anymore. So that would need to be imported anyway.
“Well we should be digging that up too!” you might retort.
I fervently disagree, but understand that if we were to go down that path it would mean billions and billions more in government subsidies and interventions that could instead be spent on boosting something we’re actually good at and the world wants more of from us.
As a nation we’d be poorer as a result of your sweatshop fetish.
If we must have a more secure steel supply, then let’s just import five year’s worth of it as a buffer while it’s cheap, stockpile it in a few giant warehouses, and call it a strategic reserve.
I’m sure we’ll never need to draw upon it. But it’d be a cheaper solution than to keep making the stuff with everything against us.
Votes have consequences
Then again, all the jingo-lite stuff wasn’t in the spending review for me.
It was aimed at peeling off Reform voters by reminding them that yes, shock horror, the overwhelming majority of spending done by the British government goes on British interests. Not on bunk beds for asylum seekers or goats for Burkina Faso.
And sadly, these numpties are still calling the shots as the marginal power players in British politics.
It’s a sorry situation. You would think that after the absolute failure of Brexit to deliver anything material except the loss of £40-50bn a year in tax receipts due to lower-than-otherwise economic growth, that Nigel Farage’s flush would be thoroughly busted by now.
But his support has never been about facts, it’s all about feelings. Anyone still backing Farage’s nationalistic agenda for economic reasons can’t use a calculator, let alone a spreadsheet.
Of course it’s true that many Reform voters don’t believe or care about the consequences of Brexit-y policies on economic growth.
At best they are staunch constitutionalists and are happy to pay the price for that – which is fair enough.
Or maybe they just prefer a Britain that was more like it was and less like, say, London has been getting. Not my view but also mostly fair enough, if it’s expressed nicely and politely.
Many Reform voters have unrelated worries that would be better tackled by any other party than Reform.
And some are just xenophobes and racists.
It’s a broad church and you might think Reform would never be elected to run the country, so who cares?
But more pertinently, the resultant accommodation of Faragian language and even thinking by the mainstream parties expands the Overton Window of what’s acceptable.
This doesn’t just make immigrants feel unwelcome or scared, say, which you might say you can live with.
It will also lead to wrong-headed choices for the country, do yet more damage to the economy, and leave us with even less money to spend in future years.
So if you’re annoyed your taxes are still going up, these are the people to blame.
For MAVENS and MOGULS byThe AccumulatoronJune 10, 2025
Fancy a whistlestop tour of the evidence that the small value risk factor is worth investing in? Who wouldn’t?
Small value is the market-beating factor that graces many a sophisticated model portfolio. Yet it’s long remained tantalisingly out of reach for UK DIY investors hankering after a simple solution.
This article can be read by selected Monevator members. Please see our membership plans and consider joining! Already a member? Sign in here.
The Investor is unwell, I mean on holiday. Definitely not too drunk to write his column this week. Nuh-uh. No way, Jose. Nope.
Hi! The Accumulator here. Just covering while my good friend The Investor is having a nice rest.
OK, links is it? I’ve got loads. Because we’ve been planning this for weeks. Sure have.
Anyway, one article that sobered me up this week is a penetrating critique of defined contribution (DC) pensions written by the esteemed William Bernstein and Edward McQuarrie.
They elegantly show that most people relying on DC pensions to provide for a successful retirement need:
Much higher savings rates than is commonly admitted
100% stock portfolios throughout their entire investing lives (accumulation and decumulation combined)
A dose of luck: in the form of a benign sequence of returns and average historical return rates (Woe to thee if you’re below average.)
The savings rates required to retire on a portfolio of low-risk assets (e.g. index-linked government bonds) are just not doable for most people. From the article:
Grim indeed: using historical data, our analysis shows that not until the savings rate approaches 25% does the saver have more than a 50/50 chance of success, and to approach certainty requires savings rates in the 40% range. Lower savings rates require a market return that has seldom been on offer.
To bring savings rates down to something half manageable, it’s 100% equities all the way:
It turns out, counterintuitively, that only one maneuver improves the success rate, and that’s a 100% stock portfolio both during accumulation and retirement.
Even then you need a 20% savings rate to push down your chance of retirement ruin to 4%.
How likely is it that the majority can achieve that? We’ve known for a long time that the median UK pension pot is ridiculously underfunded. And those who struggle to save likely face bleak retirements, or a working life that stretches far into old age.
Bernstein and McQuarrie’s prescription:
The current system doesn’t need more nudges; it needs dynamite and rebuilding from the ground up on the DB [defined benefit] model.
That isn’t going to happen here. Nor in the States. Indeed, the authors’ aim seems to be to push back against libertarian forces who seek to dismantle all forms of social insurance, and leave individuals at the mercy of the market.
Whatever you think of the politics, the underlying research paper by Bernstein and McQuarrie is a clear-eyed education in investing risk. Most of all, it relentlessly strips away the many myths that comfort us when we look at a global equities returns chart and notice that it’s done pretty well for fifty years.
I’m delighted to say we have long-time Monevator reader ‘London A Long Time Ago’ doing her FIRE reveal this month. While our career paths are world’s apart, I was surprised by the echoes to my own perspectives on freedom, self-determination, and how fragile life can be. Few of us will be lucky enough to retire to the glorious beaches of Australia, but there’s still lots to mull over. Enjoy!
A place by the FIRE
Hello! How do you feel about taking stock of your financial life today?
I think it’s been a terrific opportunity to conduct an honest reckoning. I’ve benefited from the honesty of The Accumulator and other commentators over the past few years, so thank you!
Before we go further, I think it’d be useful to explain your Monevator username – you post by the name of London a Long Time Ago – for the context it will give to your life story…
Sure.
My first Australian job was at a merchant bank at age 21. But within 18 months, I was on a plane to London armed with a two-year UK working visa and $30,000 in savings.
London was easy to navigate. I organised an interview on the train from Heathrow, attended it in the afternoon, and started working the next day. I lined up an evening job at another investment bank where I was equally over-paid and under-utilised.
Lunch was free in a private restaurant at the first bank and the second bank paid for my taxi home. I lived in a hostel, and on Saturdays I copied my new backpacking friends and waitressed at a High Street Kensington hotel for the free breakfasts and fun.
Eventually life scaled. A futures and derivatives boss promoted me and offered a sponsorship deal, plus a pay rise in line with my extra evening hours. I dropped the excessive hours, and moved to a Holland Park flat with a latch key garden.
London was playful, exuberant, and safe – Conran restaurants, events at private member clubs, city bars, country off-sites, and bottles of Bollinger alongside other young, high-spirited colleagues.
How old are you now?
49
Do you have any dependents?
I live with a feline. She has the emotional regulation of a psychopath. I love her a lot.
The wriggly spaniel puppy in my Monevator avatar photo belongs to a close friend. My cat and I hosted this adorable canine recently, and despite the puppy fun we have never been so relieved to bid farewell to a guest in our lives.
Whereabouts do you live and what’s it like there?
I live in Melbourne, surrounded by parks and a short drive to the beach. I can walk to the Arts Precinct, ‘G’, the botanical gardens, the Australian Tennis Open, and the Grand Prix.
When do you consider you achieved Financial Independence and why?
2025. It’s taken a while to feel rich enough… I had to practice deaccumulation first.
What about Retired Early?
I retired in 2024.
A local’s view. I wonder why London A Long Time Ago ditched the Central Line and her 9-5?
Assets: super savings
What’s your net worth?
Over $2.5 million. (That’s Aussie dollars!)
What are the main assets that make up your net worth?
Over $1.75 million in shares, cash, and superannuation… Less than I wanted, more than I need.
The majority (more than $1 million) is held in superannuation – only accessible at 60 – split 80% balanced (includes bonds), 10% Australian, and 10% International.
Available funds include $400,000 in a diversified global ETF (separate bucket) and $350,000 (split between Australian ETFs/direct shares and cash), designated as burn money to fund most of the decade ahead.
Cash of $70,000 is available to spend at any time for any reason. I’m in year two of my drawdown phase!
Can you explain to those of us back in the old country more about this superannuation malarkey?
Superannuation – often shortened to ‘super’ – is Australia’s compulsory pension scheme.
Employers contribute at least 12% (from 1 July 2025). Mine was higher. Individuals are able to concessionally salary sacrifice up to $30,000 annually inclusive of employer amounts (paying 15% tax on these contributions).
There is a 15% capital gains tax on returns in the accumulation phase on balances up to $3 million, and 30% CGT on returns above $3 million. However there is nil tax payable if/when funds are converted to a pension phase.
Non-concessional transfers – often from a windfall – are capped at $120,000 per year. Individuals can contribute three years worth if their super is under a certain balance ($1.9 million).
As I noted above my superannuation set-up is 80% balanced, 10% International indexed, and 10% Australia indexed – with ten-year returns averaging over 8% in aggregate and for negligible fees.
What about the Australian State Pension?
A full pension – $29,874 singles or $45,037 couples – is available for Australians age 67 who fall under an asset cap ($314,000 for a single homeowner and $470,000 couple homeowners) with home values excluded.
This Australian pension effectively backstops any superannuation portfolio failure.
Essentially, albeit at the risk of over-simplifying two tests (asset and income), a part-pension is available should funds ever fall below $674,000 for single homeowners or $1.014 million for couple homeowners.
The value of the government pension is scaled progressively. Many people appear to structure assets to qualify for a part-pension, mainly because of other concessions such as a senior healthcare card.
The scenario for renters is a whole other story. Suffice to say it’s desirable not to fall into this camp.
What’s your main residence like? Do you own or rent it?
I live in a two-bedroom flat in a 1920s heritage building, purchased off-plan the same week I returned from London – more than 20 years ago.
My flat took two years to complete. I spent a year in Dublin while it was being redeveloped. It’s unique and stunning. I like it more every year.
Do you consider your home an asset, an investment, or something else?
I consider my home to be shelter. I moved in when I was 26-years old. I covered most of the purchase with cash, but it still took five years to pay off the mortgage (Interest rates were 7%).
I chose not to leverage or future-promise my energy again. However property is the most common wealth building strategy for most Australians. Thanks to former Prime Minister John Howard’s introduction of negative gearing, most of my peers own multiple investment properties.
Negative gearing dramatically boosts asset wealth, given the mix of leverage and tax deductions. It’s also contributed to high property prices, generational inequality, and rental insecurity.
In my case, renting somewhere comparable would probably cost $50,000 a year, with the spectre of a significant increase every two years – assuming the lease was even renewed.
Earning: at what cost…
What was your job?
I’ve experienced two disparate careers – finance and government – both within high stake arenas. My salary has generally hovered somewhere in the 80th percentile band.
Both careers were ostensibly glamorous. I worked for the best organisations and agencies in the best buildings, alongside clever, ambitious, highly efficient and self-directed colleagues.
Both careers provided money, networks, vivid memories and goal attainment, but they also exacted a toll.
First job first please!
My longest role in my first career was at an American investment bank.
Trading floors are high energy, high spirits, and banter, but Australia was a grotesque facsimile compared with London – misogynistic, amateurish, and ugly. I was objectified, even targeted and drugged at a work event, and was generally gas-lit by a veneer of civility into believing I could one day crack the bro-code.
I also had a front row seat to events described by Michael Lewis in The Big Short. The people most responsible for the disaster completely evaded its consequences, whereas my dad retired and his retirement funds halved a week later.
It took three attempts to leave this career path, as I was continually headhunted back. Eventually, my disinterest was total and irrevocable.
I then had a six-year career break. I would liken this juncture to a cerebral switch.
I don’t consider it burn out. But I had a profound disinterest in goal attainment, monetary success, and status. I floated around, googled ‘top 10 hotels’ and holidayed there, had spine surgery, travelled, adopted rescue pets, redecorated, and read books.
I also returned to university, worked part-time in a bar for a year (great job), and completed a new degree. I spent a few hundred thousand dollars from my savings.
But there was that second act to come?
My second career had a much higher bar to entry.
Overall, I’m grateful for my undergraduate degree, the skill set I gained and resulting tenor of my mind. Prized memories include golden moments enmeshed in certain teams. It is an incredible feeling to play a vital role in a cohesive team, amidst other teams within an overall architecture working in concert on something that desperately matters in time-sensitive situations.
‘I just don’t want that for myself anymore’ is a valid reason to stop anything. I’m glad I resigned.
What is – or was – your annual income?
I assigned my final role a $3.5 million value – using the 4% rule – to try to cheer myself up.
How did your career and salary progress over the years – and to what extent was pursuing financial independence part of your plans?
Financial independence has always been a high priority. I was laser-focused on attaining it but never at the expense of legality, ethics, sound principles, and justice.
Did you learn anything about building your career and growing income that you wished you’d known earlier?
Marx’s maxim that: ‘We are our means of production’. No one is exempt from the truisms about power, money, and influence.
Do you have any sources of income besides your main job?
In terms of the recent past, share dividends and interest.
My dad died this year. I will receive a gift after probate.
In terms of the distant past, I made money trading. I thought I had an edge. I stopped when I lost it. I still have carry-forward losses from being stopped out of risk I failed to monitor in 2011!
I’ve never traded since.
Did pursuing FIRE get in the way of your career?
No. It helped. I exercised the optionality it afforded on multiple occasions.
Saving and spending: simple but not simplistic
What is your annual spending? How has this changed over time?
My base spend is roughly $30,000 a year, split fairly evenly between:
(1) Fixed core costs – rates, body corporate fees (what you call service charges in the UK), utilities, insurances, and general home maintenance.
(3) Luxury expenditure – clothes and grooming, entertainment, redecorating, holidays.
I’m not tethered to this annual amount. If I want something, I’ll pay for it. But I already live well amidst beautiful possessions, so nothing is on my radar right now.
And you’re confident this will see you good for the foreseeable?
No!
My deaccumulation calculation is based on my birthday month – versus the tax or calendar year.
Year one spending (that $30,000) includes the final three months working and retiring in winter. I then spent my first four months re-reading comfort books. Holiday costs were negligible.
I expect my spending to rise or at least incorporate choppy big budget items in the future.
I’m already trying new activities, which is how I discovered Formula 1! (I would hate to calculate how many hours I’ve dedicated to Drive to Survive…)
However my expenditure has been fairly stable for the past five or so years because of work, related travel opportunities, and the fact that Melbourne was the most locked down city in the world during the pandemic (2020 and 2021).
Australia’s 22% aggregate CPI increase from 2020 barely impacted my core expenses, other than increases in grocery prices. This is probably because we have competitive insurance and communication providers, plus the Australian government has countered rising energy costs with household credits.
As UK utility prices appear high, it may be interesting to share granular costs in Australia, for comparison:
(1) Energy (electricity and gas) – $968 (five-year high $1,450 without government rebates)
(2) Water – $950 (stable)
(3) Telecommunications (top brand phone and 220GB internet) – $1,265
(4) Private health insurance (includes dentist, optometrist. and partial physio) – $1,700
As is the case with the NHS in the UK, Australians have access to enviable free medical care and we are able to pick and choose if and when to use private health cover.
Do you stick to a budget or otherwise structure your spending?
I don’t budget, but I do track data. My spending has always been significant in areas, but also negligible in aggregate. In both careers, I probably only ever spent $15,000 annually on luxuries.
In my first career, fun was expensed. Almost everything was free.
Aside from that, I grew up reading. That’s never changed (also it’s mostly free).
Parties, holidays, and restaurants barely move the needle, and anyway, I prefer my cat to travelling at the moment. And I’m Australian so of course I’ve already travelled extensively!
Are you using the 4% rule or some similar strategy to manage your drawdown and spending?
I’m using a dynamic approach. My current approach is to ignore superannuation (accessible at age 60) and aim to spend at least 4% of currently accessible funds (more than $750,000 when factoring in a six-figure sum I will receive from my Dad’s estate).
I’ve found it helpful to assign a fixed amount ($350,000) as ‘burn money’ and to think of the first couple of years as practice, because I predict my spending and personalised asset allocation will alter with time.
My $400,000 portfolio contains some favoured investments, so I’m also ignoring these for the time being. Mental gymnastics works for my neurology.
As previously mentioned, $350,000 is currently split between $280,000 in Australian ETFs and shares, and $70,000 cash. This allocation throws off more than $15,000 a year and I need another $15,000 for my current base spend.
I’m using cash, interest, and franked dividends in this portfolio to shield against sequence of returns risk. (A franking credit is an amount of imputed company tax. Fully franked dividends provide franking credits at the corporate rate of 30% to avoid double taxation. Australian ETFs provide partially franked dividends with proportionate tax credits).
I will use my inheritance to increase the Australian asset allocation within this portfolio.
My Excel calculation is simple – inflate annual spend, use cash, sell ETFs/shares as needed, and deflate interest and grossed dividends appropriately.
‘Seeing is believing’ in Excel. For instance, @TA has frequently commented that sequence of returns and the first annual withdrawal figure profoundly impacts a portfolio’s health and longevity. Market increases and my lower-than-expected first year of spending had a dramatic effect on the penultimate balance (even without the unexpected gift from my Dad).
Should I want something expensive, I’ll add it to the spreadsheet, the numbers will change – but for now, the bottom line is healthy despite the low ($350,000) starting balance.
My second column (more than $750,000) is currently outpacing spending and inflation, but perhaps a few big trips will change that at some point.
Deaccumulating has tax advantages. In my case, Australia has a tax-free threshold of $18,000, followed by 16% until $45,000.
As mentioned, a significant portion of my dividends attract imputation credits, so I receive a tax credit annually. Australia also provides a 50% capital gains discount on share sales. I’ll also ultimately be able to use those carry-forward losses.
What percentage of your gross income did you save over the years?
I only have net income calculations for my second career. In the first two years, my saving ratio was 36% and 29%. Savings then increased to 65% of net income, aided by Covid 19 lockdowns and salary increases.
What’s the secret to saving more money?
I found a dose of anxiety with a dash of comparative childhood poverty highly motivating. It took my parents a couple of decades to build wealth from scratch as émigrés.
Apparently, the best definition of ‘anxiety’ is a disturbed relationship with certainty. If so, I’ve greatly benefited from leaning into my anxiety!
Personally though, I fail to understand how anyone manages to escape anxiety in a neoliberal society, given the absence of safety nets and the political weaponisation of poverty. (See Robodebt in Australia).
Do you have any hints about spending less?
No, I find spending effortless if and when actions are congruent with values.
I believe in ethical farming practices and environmental protection.
I like expensive clothes and shoes, beautiful textiles, art, and some high-end goods, but I try hard to limit excessive consumerism and waste.
Australian food prices doubled in the last five years, but I’m a vegetarian, so doubling the cost of blueberries is not the same as the price of steak. I see no reason to economise on quality food given my low overall spending.
I enjoy the normal things, like new restaurants, but in my opinion real-life riches are much nicer than purchased riches. For me that means Zen walks, dog parks, silly fun with friends and their pets, the library, ocean swims, becoming a beach or pool lizard in summer, sunshine, and reading on a gloomy day with every lamp lit and my cat purring close by.
But do you have any particular passions or hobbies or vices that eat up your income?
I’m still finding my feet post-retirement. This year, I implemented a new ritual whereby I have to try something different and new each and every month.
So far I’ve been astoundingly unimaginative. For instance, getting tickets to Melbourne special events such as tennis (boring) and the Grand Prix motor racing (unexpectedly terrific).
I think my appetite for new experiences is going to burgeon with time!
Investing: a means to an end
What kind of investor are you?
Passive with a home bias tilt.
What was your best investment?
A bank share – Australia is a financial services economy.
Did you make any big mistakes on your investing journey?
Of course! As I said I still have carry-forward losses from 2011. I failed to monitor risk and was stopped out.
I also thought I needed $80,000 for spine surgery, and sold shares at a loss. At the time, I expected to privately fund my ‘elective’ operation after an insurer tried to limit liability and claim the operation was unnecessary. Ultimately, the surgeon and the anaesthetist refused payment, operated, made me whole, and waited for the arbitration case to settle in my favour. It took years, but eventually the insurer paid.
What has been your overall return, as best you can tell?
This question invoked a miasma of disinterest.
At some point, I stopped focusing on metrics and building a perfect portfolio.
I stopped caring ‘how’ – I just feel gratitude and relief that I did!
How much have you been able to fill your tax shelters?
I always salary sacrificed the maximum amount each year into superannuation for the tax concession.
To what extent did tax incentives influence your strategy?
I over-saved in superannuation. The tax incentive explains why.
How often do you check or tweak your portfolio or other investments?
I check monthly when I move funds around to pay bills.
I’m interested in politics, economics and global markets, but less interested in my own portfolio now that I feel safe. I’m busy trying to build ‘life’.
Wealth: …and health
We know how you made your money, but how did you keep it?
I built in stacks: cash, share trading, then property, then shares (in different configurations), then more cash.
I used leverage sparingly and only infrequently via derivatives, so I never risked the bulk of invested funds.
When I needed to exercise optionality, I spent reserves freely as needed, and then rebuilt.
Which is more important, saving or investing, and why?
Saving was key initially. London super-charged my net worth.
I’m pretty sure I earned £45,000 annually in my early London years – including a few thousand extra a year AUD trading. I invoiced as a company.
When did you think you’d achieve financial freedom – and was it a goal with a timeline?
I was trying for conventional financial freedom in career #1, but I couldn’t sustain the effort. I spent a stack of savings in my six-year sabbatical, and had to start again during career #2, although not from scratch.
I was aiming for at least $1 million outside superannuation the second time around. I’m inordinately grateful that I obsessively read Monevator. The Accumulator and The Investor plus commentators were all a positive influence for different reasons. (All errors are my own, of course).
I’m aware I fell short of my financial potential and my achievement-oriented peers. But I feel successful based on my own metrics.
In my opinion financial freedom and good health need to be paired together. I shortened my financial freedom timeline (to a bare bones finishing line) because my health was objectively at risk.
Superficially, I’m glad I left before I acquired dark circles under my eyes – and wrinkles and grooves in my face mapping my unhappiness – or bowing my posture.
I resisted or at least limited using alcohol as a crutch. I stopped SSRIs the week I resigned.
Did anything unexpected get in your way?
Spine surgery because I have always been healthy. My surgeon promised to make ‘me whole’ and he did! I was pain-free from the moment I woke up.
Are you still growing your pot? If so, how? If you’re de-accumulating, how?
I’m still figuring out my post-work ‘life’ and its impact on deaccumulation, hence I’m reading @TA’sNo Cat Food posts.
I’m a vegetarian, so cat food is not an option anyway…
Do you have any further financial goals?
It’s too early to say. I’m still quite young. In the future, I might choose to work for a purpose, so I’m not ruling out another career? But presently I can’t fathom in what field.
I’m hyper aware that I should maximise this decade and accomplish travel-related goals – while I’m healthy – and later determine whether I want to restructure my financial assets into a higher-value principal place of residence (PPOR). This is because it costs at least $1 million for high-needs care in a 7-star facility (present day terms), and a PPOR makes an excellent tax and pension-exempt store of wealth and inflation hedge for this purpose.
It also makes sense to maximise this decision on that grounds that I seem to have become a homebody.
You’re quite young to be (sensibly) thinking about later life care…
Dignity in aged-care is purchased, not automatically provided.
The nursing care and level of kindness displayed by staff members to both my parents has been largely exemplary. However the difference in aesthetics, activity options, and chef-prepared meals between a $600,000 and $1 million option is stark.
Hopefully I’ll be healthier than my parents, but I will actively plan for this contingency.
In Australia, aged care is means-tested, but very reasonable for high-needs care. Most individuals choose to pay a bond, which is returned to the estate with a minor surcharge deducted (only recently legislated, so grandfathered for existing residents).
Individuals also pay a monthly fee, but the total lifetime amount payable is capped.
What would you say to Monevator readers pursuing financial freedom?
People reading Monevator will almost certainly pursue their goals with greater élan and resilience. My inner animal was howling and gnashing its tail. I feel an ocean of relief that it’s done.
I was deeply affected by my Dad’s diagnosis. His form of Parkinson’s disease progressed slowly over more than 17 years. He spent his final three years in a high-care facility. He became non-verbal in his final year, so we were slow to spot that he was suffering extreme oral pain. The diagnosis – tongue cancer – added an incomprehensible level of indignity, pain, and cruelty to his final months of life.
His death in palliative care was agonising. He died minute by slow minute over a week.
The enormity of his diagnosis and death were impactful. Time matters. I have enough money now, so I’m going to prioritise friendships, good deeds, interesting books, my calm mind, and a clear conscience.
In the weeds: doing it for yourself
When did you first start thinking seriously about money and investing?
I always cared about money. I wanted economic freedom even in adolescence, which felt stifling.
Politics, markets, and health diagnoses can disrupt even orderly lives. I wanted to be prepared.
Did any particular individuals inspire you to become financially free?
My friends were high achievers and one by one chose marriage and motherhood over careers. None of us define success through corporate or material stakes.
I wanted financial freedom on my terms and achieved it without a partner.
Can you recommend your favourite resources for anyone chasing the FIRE dream?
Aside from Monevator, Money Flamingo for its original premise – save half your desired FIRE amount, then coast for ten years while investments compound and double in the background – and Weenie’ssite for her self-reliance, honesty, and determination.
What is your attitude towards charity and inheritance?
I’m inordinately glad that I achieved independence on my own for my self-esteem.
As I mentioned, my dad left me a bequest in his will this year. It felt like a written declaration of love, particularly because he was unable to speak verbally in the end.
My view is that life can be hard and uncertain, so an inheritance is a valuable stepping-stone or safety net, particularly for the generation behind me. My sibling and I will most likely receive a legacy each from my mother’s future estate.
I’ve named the Sheldrick Trust and an Australian sanctuary as beneficiaries in my will, with my sibling prioritised in the first instance.
What will your finances ideally look like towards the end of your life?
I feel as though I’ve been taking stock since retiring unexpectedly early in 2024!
It has taken months to decompress. I would say the prize has been peace and a truly calm state of mind. I feel happy, optimistic, and alive to the infinite possibilities ahead.
My ardent hope is to remain kind, empathetic, and happy in my senior years. I envisage ‘future-me’ funding worthy causes from the pool deck of a Richard Osman-esque retirement complex surrounded by my sea of rescue pets and quirky friends.
Thanks to London A Long Time Ago for a thoughtful and revealing interview. I specially liked the idea of the ‘burn fund’ as a forcing function to switch from an accumulation to drawdown mindset. Do let us know your takeaways in the comments below. Please remember that constructive feedback is welcome, but anything bad-tempered or nasty will be deleted. And be sure to read our other FIRE-side chats.
