I do, quite frequently, think about getting health insurance. To this day I have yet to actually have something push me to take the leap and get a policy, but I feel a couple of bad experiences away from doing so.

My experiences with NHS healthcare have been varied, unfortunately. But largely this has not been for myself (thankfully), rather I have watched (and helped) family go through the system a lot.

I have had both parents in the system to a significant degree at varying times. My wife has been through the maternity system with our first son (and is currently on her way through it a second time).

I’m not going to go into the details of those experiences as they are deeply personal, but safe to say they were very mixed – particularly for my parents.

The maternity and subsequent paediatric provision has always been great, I will say. It will be interesting to see how experiencing the same process two years on differs with our second child due in December.

Where my personal sentiment on the NHS begins to chafe really comes down to the primary services we receive. I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve ever actually been granted access to my current GP, for example.

We routinely have to queue, sometimes for up to an hour, for our local pharmacies to fulfil prescriptions. This is thanks in large part to a major national pharmacy chain withdrawing from our town and putting pressure on the remaining provision.

And dental – don’t get me started. We live in a dental desert and have to drive over an hour away for an appointment. That appointment isn’t even on the NHS, those are rarer than (healthy!) hens teeth in Devon.

But does this push me into getting private medical insurance for our family? Our problem is largely a primary care deficiency.

More from Edmund Greaves

Time for health insurance?

The reality for our situation is that it feels hard to apportion some of our monthly income to a health insurance policy because, frankly, so much of my income already goes on taxes which pay for the NHS.

The Government has a fun tool you can use to tell you exactly how much of your taxes went where in a given tax year, out of interest. I am aware this is getting into the territory of crying over a sunk-cost fallacy but it hurts to look nonetheless.

In the most recent tax year, 2023/24 – just over 20% of my tax went to the NHS. This works out at just under £4,000 a year. My partner earns less than me (and ironically enough is a n NHS nurse which provides its own insights into the Byzantine Health Empire which I will forgo for today), but between us I’d calculate we’re roughly paying in around £6,000 a year just to the health system.

This is great inasmuch as we’ve actually used it quite a lot having our son etc. But it is also certainly a lot more than we’d pay for equivalent private health insurance, which comes without the queues and more free smart watches. For context – a private policy runs between £70 and £200 depending on circumstances.

So even if myself and my wife were both paying the top end (we wouldn’t because we’re under 40) we’d still be paying less than the equivalent in tax.

Controversially (and perhaps under-noticed as of yet) political parties such as Reform have floated giving people tax breaks for opting out of NHS care and using private insurance. Given the potential cost differential already mentioned, this could be an extremely compelling way to save tax for people who would have lower annual premiums (i.e. the healthy and young).

But the implications are fraught especially given that it is the taxes of the healthiest who are essentially footing the bill for those in poor health in the nationalised system.

In totality, the Government spent around £258 billion on healthcare in 2024. That’s a big number. For context, the Government spend £1,279 billion on everything it does in the tax year 2024/25.

Brits spent around £46 billion on so-called ‘out-of-pocket’ healthcare expenditure in 2024. What this means is for all the money spent on healthcare in the UK, around 15% came out of our own cash. The Government spends 81% of the money. Just 2.6% of spending is done by private health insurance schemes.

Interestingly, the out-of-pocket spending used to be higher – 20% in 1997. At that time health insurance accounted for just under 4%. What this tells me is that there is still a significant unsatisfied demand for private healthcare coverage. Why?

In this week’s podcast we were joined by Dr Katie Tryon, chief commercial officer at health insurance provider Vitality. We got Katie on the podcast as probably one of the best-placed people in the country to actually explain to us the nuts and bolts of how health insurance works.

For a more detailed guide, we’ve also written up all you need to know on health insurance.

Dr Tryon explained on the podcast that the biggest area of growth that Vitality is seeing with regard to its health cover is thanks to the deficiencies of NHS primary care (i.e. GPs) – the exact issue my family and I face routinely. Our problems are being mirrored up and down the land and this is driving people to spend money, regardless of the sunk cost of their tax.

But they’re not buying insurance instead. And this is costing us, collectively, billions every year.

My challenge here then, is how do we solve the clear issue of a lack of coverage? While I still don’t feel as if my family is at the point of taking the leap, what is clear is we’re collectively as a nation spending a lot of money on health treatments that could potentially be covered more affordably by the pooling power of the insurance market.

My worry is that it is a mindset issue. We eulogise the NHS. For many reasons this is perfectly fair given the nature of the institution and the impact it has on many of our lives.

Personally, I have seen the NHS at its best with the birth of my son. It was truly remarkable. Enough to make me clap on a Thursday evening. But I have also had a good look at it at its worst, particularly with what I went through with my mother many years ago.

Private healthcare is so often the bogeyman in arguments about how the NHS works and is funded. It is seen as the evil vulture capitalist in the room looking to ruin nationalised health from under our noses. But the mad thing is, while we argue over this, in the breach it is creating a coverage gap that is just making us poorer and less healthy.

It’s time we thought again about how to ensure everyone has their healthcare needs covered – through a combination of national and private health that doesn’t rely on judgement, just beneficial outcomes.

Photo Credits: Pexels

The post I’m a couple of bad experiences away from getting health insurance for my family appeared first on Mouthy Money.

There’s lots going on in my life at the moment. Last year I got married. We also bought a house. The first thing we did as homeowners was get a Labrador called Atlas. He’s totally mad and lovely.

When we bought our home we talked to the mortgage broker about life insurance, but after a slightly negative experience (and the fact we were also in the middle of planning a wedding) we put the conversation on the back burner.

Then this year my wife and I recently discovered the joyous news that we are expecting a baby in October. This focused my mind on getting life cover sorted, as it’s not just my wife (and Atlas) I’d leave behind, but potentially a child were the worst to happen to me.

Then I had a fateful call with a life insurance provider. They asked the usual questions and it went fine, but when we moved onto medical questions things quickly went awry.

Too big for life insurance

I am not a skinny bloke. I’ve always been husky as an adult, although in my 20s this was kept at bay mostly by playing sports etc. But I’ve never been ‘slim’ and when I do the NHS BMI test it tells me my BMI is way too high.

I’ve always been conscious of my weight and have done plenty of faddy diets that don’t last or training programs that don’t yield results (and tend to lead to burnout).

More recently, the pandemic was definitely a bad thing for my waistline but really only added to an issue that I wasn’t really addressing anyway.

At my heaviest I was 159kg. This was around the time we got married and just before we got a dog. Getting a dog (and having to walk him all the time) was excellent news for the scales and I lost around 8kg by the beginning of this year.

But then the fateful phone call for life insurance. I spoke to Vitality who were recommended to me by a friend. Their adviser was extremely helpful and very honest about why I would be turned down. Simply put, I’m too fat.

He told me that to be at least considered, versus my height, I’d need to be below 120kg. Anything above and I’d simply be denied. Of course, this weight is still high in overall BMI terms and I’d face higher premiums, so the lower, the better.

I don’t think I felt humiliated by the news. As someone who works in personal finance I was aware that my size would be an issue with a product like this, but I had never really faced it before. Hearing it laid out to me was important and I commend the adviser for his honesty.

Get fit for life insurance

Being turned down for life insurance is worrying, for my health and the security of my loved ones. I want to do the right thing for my growing family and protect them should something happen to me.

There is a kicker here that this situation collides with something else big that’s happening in my life at the moment.

I am preparing, with a group of friends, to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in February 2024, which I’m doing on behalf of Marie Curie in memory of my mum (you can check out my fundraiser for more on that).

So as luck would have it, I’m already on a concentrated path to getting fit and losing weight. I won’t go into the details as this isn’t a health and fitness blog, but it involves working out regularly and eating a lot less, basically. And sticking to it.

Kilimanjaro has given me a lot of motivation (that’s one of the reasons I signed up to it) but the life insurance issue has lit a fire under me in a way I’ve never had before.

The conversation I had with Vitality also helped crystallise some goals for me – I now have a tangible target I need to reach. The good news so far is I’ve lost around 14kg since March, putting me around 137kg at the moment.

Writing this deeply personal column is a form of accountability for me. I’m laying all my cards on the table in order to say I am willing to fix this problem of my own creation.

I’ve still got a lot of hard work to do, but I’ve never been more focused on achieving a health-related goal. Wish me luck.

Vitality has been contacted for comment.

Photo by Balazs Simon.

This article contains affiliate links. Affiliate links have no bearing on the editorial stance of Mouthy Money, but do help us fund our journalism and information we provide to readers.

The post Why I was turned down for life insurance – and what I plan to do about it appeared first on Mouthy Money.

With the craziness that life can be, sometimes we forget to look after ourselves. It’s always a good idea to take check of your health to make sure everything is okay. 

Heading to the GP may take some time if it’s not an emergency – so instead there’s another way to make sure you’re in good nick thanks to free Boots Pharmacy health MOTs.

Here’s everything you need to know, and how to book.

What is in the deal exactly? 

To get a full body check up to make sure your health is okay, you need look no further than your local Boots. 

If you’re age 40 or over, you can book in a free appointment at the high street chemist. There are no walk in appointments, so it’s important you plan ahead. 

Boots’ website gives you options for times and locations to book in your body MOT, and for how many people. 

When we had a look at time slots, luckily there was plenty of availability for the next day and the whole week. 

The health MOT includes lots of checks including a blood pressure check, optional BMI/waist circumference measurement and guidance on exercise, nutrition, sleep and mental wellbeing. 

The appointment will last around 15 minutes, and the pharmacist should give you some advice and any referrals that you may need as a result of the check up. 

You should also receive a number of leaflets and resources to point you in the right direction to live a healthier life. 

Why should I care? 

If you’re slightly worried about your health for whatever reason – this would be a great way to give you peace of mind. 

Calling up and booking a non-essential doctors appointment is frustratingly difficult… so this is a free and easy way to bypass those struggles. 

You can book for other people also, so if you know somebody who may need a blood pressure check, or would benefit from a general check up, this is a great option. 

What’s the catch? 

To get the free health MOT from Boots, you’ll need to be over the age of 40 years old. You must also have has no previous diagnosis of a high blood pressure. 

Under 40s can also get the test, but only if you have a recognised family history of high blood pressure. If you don’t have that, you will not be able to get a test. 

What other options do I have? 

If you’re in need of a check, you still can go to your local doctors surgery. It is free at the point of use, but you may not be seen straight away. 

There are also online GP services that you may be able to see for a fee if there’s something you’re particularly worried about. 

Where can I find out more? 

To find out more and to book a body MOT appointment – head over to the Boots website. You’ll be asked to choose a location and time, where you should get a slot within a few weeks. 

Photo Credits: Unsplash

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So, with that off my chest, I’d like to offer you a few routes to self-care that cost little or no money at all, and are less likely to appear as #spon items on Gen Z celebrities’ social media. Today, I’m going with podcasts.

We all know about podcasts. There are actually more podcasts in the world now than there are people*, and some behemoth examples like My Dad Wrote A Porno, The Guilty Feminist and This American Life are household names. The following list is specifically chosen with self-care in mind. They are safe hands, and you don’t need to ‘need’ care in the areas covered by the pods to feel the benefit of their thoughtful words and humour. My litmus test is: engaging enough to listen to on the go or when you really need distracting, gentle enough to listen to when you can’t sleep.

1. Made of Human. Comedian Sofie Hagen chats to interesting people – often comedians, but not exclusively – about their takes on life, how they’ve overcome struggles, their most pressing concerns, and their place in the world. Fatness, gender identity, sexuality, discrimination, relationships, trauma, family and careers are all recurring themes. Sophie is an attentive and considerate interviewer, volunteering her own experience where relevant, but always allowing her subject space to follow their thoughts through. Your Fat Friend, Jessica Fostekew, Jessamyn Stanley, Sara Barron, Susan Calman and Nimko Ali are all great listens.
2. Hoovering. Hosted by Jessica Fostekew, who many keen podcasters will recognise as a regular co-host of the Guilty Feminist, this is a very relaxed, very engaging listen. Jessica interviews comedians about their eating history and habits over a meal or snack, which is often prepared by Jess with an endearing amount of forethought. Jess is a very smart, very funny conversationalist, and always quick to address and interrogate her own complicated relationship with food. She asks thoughtful questions around her guest’s eating, all with a very evident respect and love for what’s on their plate. The Jack Monroe, Pierre Novellie, Jess Phillips and Grace Petrie episodes are especially lovely.
3. Secret Dinosaur Cult. This is also hosted by Sofie Hagen, but presented alongside fellow comedian Jodie Mitchell, SDC has more lighthearted tone than MOH. It’s recorded as a live show, but not in an annoying way – like, the odd bits of audience interaction don’t hold things up, and work well on audio. The premise is: every week Sofie and Jodie explore a different theme – like debt, getting into comedy, nudity, horniness, and food, which they introduce by way of a type of dinosaur. Both Sofie and Jodie also use the show to explore their daddy issues, which they tackle in segments like ‘daddy hole’ (much funnier and less gross than it sounds). They have brilliant chemistry and are both excellent improvisers, so the chat moves quickly with a high ratio of laughs to facts. All the episodes are can be enjoyed solo – I think they really hit their stride by the fifth or sixth – but for a full appreciation of a few running jokes and callbacks I’d recommend listening in order.
4. Authentic Sex. This is a gem. Sexologist and counsellor Juliet Allen talks through all manner of topics related to sex, covering everything from fetishes to strap-ons, casual sex, commitment, intimacy, soft kink, self-pleasure and dozens more. The episodes are low-key and unscripted, generally consisting of Allen talking through subjects off the top of her knowledgeable head. The topics are occasionally seasonal – eg sex rituals to kick-start the new year, but often seem to derive from Allen skimming the top of her brain and seeing what’s most prevalent – or in demand – at the time. The tone is non-judgemental, open, and very informative. Very easy to dip in and out of.
5. Don’t Salt My Game. Hosted by intuitive eating coach Laura Thomas PhD, DSMG covers the methods and theories around intuitive eating, and dispenses with the common myths and lies fed to us by diet culture. Laura’s no-nonsense approach is very accessible and sympathetic, and she covers areas like #fitspo, when public health misses the point, and health at every size accompanied by experts in the relevant fields. The general principles of being attuned to your needs and not penalising yourself apply far beyond a relationship with food, and make for a forgiving and companionable listen whatever your baggage.

*unverified statistic

The post Five self-care podcasts everyone needs to listen to appeared first on Mouthy Money.

I flick through Instagram and watch my favourite influencer ‘unboxing’ the three free parcels she’s been sent today. One by one, she shows off her new jade face roller, cashmere knit jumper and Mulberry handbag.

I imagine a life where, having just put on my new cashmere jumper, I take my jade face roller out of the fridge, de-puff my eyes, pop it into my Mulberry handbag and
head out for brunch with my influencer friends.

Wiping cheese from my mouth, I order a jade face roller and find an almost identical cashmere-blend jumper in the sale. I feel one step closer to the influencer life I dream of.

Now to secure an all-expenses-paid trip to Bali.

Influencers (those with a large social media following that literally ‘influence’ others) are
contacted by brands wanting to promote a new product. Brands either pay influencers to
promote said product, or ‘gift’ an item or experience in exchange for social media
promotion, thus advertising it to the thousands of people that follow the influencer.

The lines between advertising and entertainment have become blurred and we’re actively choosing to watch those we admire flaunting the latest hair product.

Consumers lap it up, frantically buying the latest ‘must-have’ and both the influencer and
the brand saunter off into the sunset a few thousand pounds richer, while we, the consumers, are left penniless despite having ‘super-soft’ hair.

Every time we open Instagram, we’re presented with another product that we ‘need’. We’re encouraged to use discount codes and ‘buy before it sells out!’. But what does this mean for those of us spending 10 hours and 27 minutes on Instagram a week? (I hate you
weekly screen time.)

I’m presented with a world full of free shellac nail treatments, paid partnerships with Gap, and gifted trips to 5* resorts in the Algarve. I’m happy to admit that I desperately want that life, but know I can’t have it without spending my life savings.

Having dabbled in the influencer industry myself, I’m fearful of being a hypocrite; I regularly accept ‘gifting’ opportunities and have been sent free clothing and haircare products, not to mention a pair of Gucci earrings. I’ve never been able to afford a pair of Gucci earrings and am confident that, unless I win the lottery this weekend, I never will.

So why am I, as a ‘micro-influencer’, presenting an ideal of life that I, myself, am not really living? Why am I ‘influencing’ others to buy things I wouldn’t normally be able to afford

Let’s be honest, unless you’ve taken a Buddhist vow to renounce your desire for all
possessions, it’s nice to get free stuff.

I regularly scold celebrities that use their platform solely to encourage you to purchase the latest teeth-whitening treatment.

But I also feel morally thwarted: should I be accepting free products in exchange for promoting them to others? Making those of us with smaller means feel inadequate and unfulfilled? Or even worse, making those desperate to live the life I’m presenting fall further into a spiral of debt?

Some will say this is not my responsibility but the responsibility of the brand and their
advertising campaign. But since I was given the Gucci earrings, I’ve felt more and more
guilty promoting products I simply wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my mere Instagram
following of just over 3,500.

I regularly scold celebrities that use their platform solely to encourage you to purchase the latest teeth-whitening treatment, yet I fall into this category myself.

Previously, advertising was distant and impersonal: a billboard near your local train station, adverts on the TV between Blind Date, leaflets posted through your letterbox. We were able to ignore them, mute the TV, and throw away the leaflets without a second glance.

But now the lines between advertising and entertainment have become blurred and we’re actively choosing to watch those we admire flaunting the latest ghd hair product in their
beautiful two-bedroom Islington flat.

Of course, for the brands, this is advertising at its best. Influencers are selling a lifestyle,
not just a product, and 100,000 willing Instagrammers watch and crave the supposedly
glamorous life the influencers present.

But for us as consumers, it’s dangerous; it sparks a desire for products we otherwise wouldn’t have known about, it encourages frequent spending on products we don’t need and promotes an unrealistic and unachievable lifestyle.

Instagram is an ideal: a picture in a catalogue, an IKEA showroom, the elderly couple running along the beach in the BUPA advert.

The Instagram bubble becomes the norm and we’re sucked into a world where
influencers go on six holidays a year (five of which were free), while we’re desperately
saving to go on one package holiday to Mallorca.

I have to admit that I find accounts that solely advertise products incredibly dull – it’s like
watching a 24-hour TV channel full of adverts. The ever-expanding world of social media is becoming increasingly focused on ‘stuff’.

What happened to asking someone about the last book they read? Or their views on the climate change crisis? Having a platform means having power, and influencers should use that power to make an impact, and I’m not talking about one in sales.

As consumers we need to remind ourselves constantly that Instagram is an ideal: a picture
in a catalogue, an IKEA showroom, the elderly couple running along the beach in the
BUPA advert. It’s an advertising platform that we shouldn’t get sucked into, unless we want our finances sucked out of us.

I’m not saying I’m never going to accept gifting opportunities again, because I am. But I’m
certainly not going to accept them so frequently, nor am I going to accept things I wouldn’t normally be able to afford. What you don’t see is what I’ve turned down: the jewellery, the fancy skincare, the expensive clothing I won’t ever wear.

As an influencer, no matter how many followers I’ve got, I have a responsibility to portray my ‘real life’ as well as my ‘Insta life’, and if that means saying ‘no’ to free stuff, then so be it.

I don’t want to think about the amount of money I’ve wasted purchasing things I thought would drastically improve my life, because let’s face it, I’m never going to be that jade-
face-rolling, Mulberry-handbag-swinging, cashmere-jumper-wearing girl I see all over the internet.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that every Tuesday I’ll be sat on the sofa, watching Friends and eating a ready-meal mac ’n’ cheese. (And I’m secretly delighted.)

The post Is influencer marketing immoral? Confessions of an insider appeared first on Mouthy Money.

Draped in Dior and diamonds, and trailed by a harem of husbands, Simpson is an absolute legend. If there was a LADbible for ladies in the 1930s – a LADYbible, if you will – Wallis Simpson would have been on the cover.

And so, it’s with her pearls of wisdom in my ears that I order a standing desk.

Yes, a standing desk. What else makes you lose weight and earn more money? Using a standing desk is scientifically proven to burn calories and increase productivity – there are shedloads of studies on it.

I’m triumphant when it springs up to typing height, like the Carlsberg of self-assembly objects.

So I am jolly pleased when mine arrives. And after heaving it onto the second-hand dining table I use as a desk, I’m triumphant when it springs up to typing height, like the Carlsberg of self-assembly objects.

I love it immediately and feel like a captain at the helm. I have a good mind to start firing a cannon in the manner of Mary Poppins’ Admiral Boom. Sent an invoice? “FIRE!” Transcribed an interview? “FIRE!” Finished writing a feature? “Put in a double charge of powder Mr. Binnacle and FIRE!!!”

To loosely paraphrase M&S, I am not just standing – I am standing to attention. As The Admiral, I do not dick about on my phone looking at Joan Collins’ dresses from when she was in Dynasty, or screenshotting dire dating app profiles to post on Twitter. No, I do these things when I’m sitting down taking a break.

It sounds minor but, as a freelancer working from home, I think anything that helps to distinguish free time from work time is actually pretty useful – especially if you eat, sleep, work, wank and watch telly all in one room, as I did until recently, in a studio flat the size of a postage stamp.

Towards the end of the day, when my feet are achy, I do fancy a sit-down – but apparently this is par for the course when one uses a standing desk. In Vladimir Nabokov: The American Years, biographer Brian Boyd writes that the Lolita author would begin his working days standing at a lectern.

I find myself moving and stretching more than I would if I were sitting.

He then quotes Nabokov as saying: “Later on, when I feel gravity nibbling at my calves, I settle down in a comfortable armchair alongside an ordinary writing desk; and finally, when gravity begins climbing up my spine, I lie down on a couch in a corner of my small study.”

Ernest Hemingway, Winston Churchill, Virginia Woolf, and Charles Dickens all apparently used standing desks, as did Stan Lee, Soren Kierkegaard, Lewis Carroll and American playwright August Wilson.

According to John Lahr in the Guardian: “Wilson wrote standing up, at a high, cluttered accounting desk. For years, an Everlast punching bag was suspended from the ceiling about two steps behind. When Wilson was in full flow and the dialogue was popping, he’d stop, pivot, throw a barrage of punches, then turn back to work.”

I’m not too sure about suspending anything from my ceiling (although if it did cave in, at least my desk would be elevated above the rubble) but I find myself moving and stretching more than I would if I were sitting.

And with my desk facing the window, standing also expands my view. I now take in a tower block to the right and the other day a man smoking a cigarette out of his window waved at me. It was the most human interaction I’d had in days and I felt like I’d made a friend.

I’ve been standing while I work for about a month now, and I trust that I’m becoming richer and thinner by the minute. But if I’m not dripping diamonds by the end of the year, I’m open to getting married – so hit me up, European royalty!

P.S. I really like Monaco.

With thanks to Varidesk for my ProPlus 36.

The post It zaps fat and increases productivity – but what is a ‘standing desk’ actually like? appeared first on Mouthy Money.

I opened it, to which he enquired, looking very confused: “Are you Madeleine Sutherland?”

I confirmed I was.

I had, fifteen minutes earlier, called up NHS 111 service to ask for advice about a sharp chest pain that I’d been experiencing for a couple of days. The nurse on the other end had asked me a number of questions, incorrectly writing down some of my of answers, it turned out (when I got to the hospital, I discovered she’d recorded that I was born in 1982 instead of 1992).

She then concluded that I needed an A&E appointment to get checked out. When she asked how I’d be getting to the hospital, she seemed unsatisfied with the answer that I’d ‘walk it’ and said she’d order me a taxi. So, here we are.

Some hospitals spend hundreds of thousands of pounds each year on private car hire.

I hesitated somewhat; the taxi driver had arrived a bit sooner than I’d expected, and I wanted to make sure that I had enough money to pay him.

“Will £10 get me there,” I asked.

“The hospital’s paid for it,” came the response.

I was a little bit puzzled, if not grateful. I’d never heard of this before.

During the journey, I quizzed my taxi driver a little bit more. It turns out this is something the NHS regularly does, and is supposedly part of a quieter sneaking privatisation, awarding contracts to private firms.

When I got back, a quick Google revealed that this has been going on for a while, this Daily Mail article reporting that some hospitals spend hundreds of thousands of pounds each year on private car hire.

I was embarrassed – I could have walked to the hospital and a taxi seemed a bit too much.

My taxi driver also let me know that sometimes they’re required to assist people in wheelchairs to get into their cars and out the other side.

“That’s what I was doing looking through your door window,” my driver said. “I was trying to understand how a wheelchair could get through.”

He showed me a set of directions that he’d been given on his mobile phone. It did, indeed, inform him that I was going to be in a wheelchair.

I felt a little bit embarrassed. I’d told the 111 provider that I could walk to the hospital, so this seemed a bit too much.

As we approached the hospital, the cab’s fare indicator read £4.20 on it, so even if the taxi hadn’t been complimentary, I could have paid for it with my tenner. That said, the taxi driver was friendly and talkative, as they often are.

I got where I needed to go and I was grateful (although a little ashamed) for the attention – but it struck me from our conversation that these taxi companies were ill-equipped to deal with the kinds of patients they’d been tasked with transporting (I was definitely one of the more mobile). A taxi, after all, is not an ambulance.

I also question whether giving taxpayer money to private firms is really healthy for the NHS, especially when the end user seems sometimes – well, at least in my case – not to be in need.

My chest pain? Oh, it was nothing much – just stress or too much caffeine. Or both.

I’ll live to hail another lift.

The post My pointless NHS taxi – a waste of public funds appeared first on Mouthy Money.

Meet Mouthy Money’s new writers – they tell stories about their financial lives, dreams, successes and failures. And their words won’t just twang your heartstrings or make you clutch your sides with laughter – though they’ll certainly do that! – no, they’ll also help you make the tough decisions looming large in your life.

Get the best of our real life stories once a month in your inbox by subscribing here.

Our writers

Joanna Blythman

Joanna is an award-winning investigative journalist, the author of seven landmark books on food issues and one of the most authoritative, influential commentators on the British food chain. Read: How vegan evangelists are propping up the ultra-processed food industry

Holly MC Thomas

Holly is a freelance writer and editor based in London. She writes regularly for CNN and The New Statesman, among other top tier publications. Read: The true cost to women of Russell Brand’s toxic masculinity

Emma Real-Davies

Presenter of The Female Struggle Is Real podcast and writer, Emma says she’s struggling with freelancing, struggling with being sustainable and struggling generally. Read: Saving the planet is bankrupting me

Lynn James

Winner of UK Money Blogger 2017 best parent and money blog. Radio presenter on SG1 Radio. Author of Blogging Your Way To Riches. Seen on BBC, ITV, HuffPo. Read: My experience of emotional spending

Samantha Rea

Samantha Rea is a freelance journalist living in London. She studied at the LSE but has since annihilated a fair few brain cells by watching too many episodes of Love Island. Read: Fresh air and scenes worthy of the Edinburgh Fringe: why I won’t be joining a gym 

Amy Treasure

Food writer and photographer. Amy has a simple approach to great home cooking. Runs. Read: Your diet is making you fat (and nine alternatives that actually work)

Holly Thomas

Holly is an award-winning financial journalist and former Deputy Personal Finance Editor at The Sunday Times. She writes across all areas of personal finance and consumer issues. Read: Want to cut the cost of Christmas 2019? Start shopping now…

Michael Taggart

Who, me? Oh, I’m the editor. Y’know…behind the scenes. Don’t like attention. Please ignore me. Do that at @michael_taggart. Read: Like giving crack to a cocaine addict: my life with a 110% subprime mortgage

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Roughly translating as ‘not too much, not too little, just right’, lagom is the art of living frugally, which is a pretty essential life skill if, like me, you’ve still got a £9,000 student loan to repay.

Lagom encourages you to be healthy, environmentally-friendly and financially-frugal. It’s definitely not as much fun as hygge (which by the way, I readily embraced pre-Christmas by purchasing a pair of new brushed-cotton pyjamas and an endless supply of mulled wine).

But apparently January is all about new starts blah blah and I have a whacking great tax bill to pay, so I for one am becoming lagom.

Here are some handy tips on how to live frugally in January and embrace lagom:

1. Stay in and cook

I have a terrible habit of going out for dinner ALL the time. I make great plans to boil lentils and kale into some sort of healthy mush and yet, before you know it, I’ve got a dim sum in each cheek and Katsu curry dripping down my chin. I’ve recently realised, however, that although eating out is super convenient, it’s also incredibly expensive! So dig out your blender, boil your broccoli and soak those lentils overnight – healthy mush it is.

2. Use your gym membership (lol)

Sometimes I forget that I pay £30 to run for 20 mins on a treadmill once a month. But last week I suddenly remembered (miraculous) and decided to actually go. Although furious that the hot tub wasn’t working (why else would you go to the gym?), I did 10 lengths in the pool and then sat in the sauna for half an hour. It was glorious. Plus then I showered in water I’m not billed for – could life get any better?

3. Start a journal

Ok yes – you’ll need to buy a notebook and a fancy array of coloured pens, but then you’ve got a year of journal-writing FUN! Plus you will spend hours (HOURS) on Pinterest looking at pretty pictures of bullet journals. And there’s nothing more fun than planning, amiright?

4. Rearrange your living space

Having a sort out is always satisfying come the New Year, and adding a plant to your space can be just as refreshing as spending pounds on new fancy throw cushions that just get chucked on the floor come bedtime. It’s fun to make your bedroom a lagom project: picking up ring stands in charity shops and framing photos that you’ve had lying around. Just one question though – what do you do with old journals that detail your terrible tinder dates? Asking for a friend…

5. Get outside

Just a quick reminder that some of life’s simplest pleasures are free: going for a long woodland walk, getting your bike out of the garage, feeding the ducks at your local pond (I don’t care how old you are, this is still fun). And ok, if you want to pop to the pub after partaking in any of the above, that’s absolutely fine. As long as you remember the following: ‘not too much, not too little, just right’.

Lagom is about long-term fun: saving up those pennies for a house, getting fit and healthy, appreciating the smaller things in life without having huge extravagances. So although you might be tempted to book a last minute holiday to get some winter sun, just repeat this mantra while spooning healthy mush post-bike ride into your mouth: ‘lagom is long-term fun’, ‘lagom is long-term fun’. Failing that, remember you’ve got to pay for a house/wedding/holiday/tax bill/child this year.

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One day, on a breezy autumn afternoon, my science teacher stood up and declared: “Revision is the new rock and roll! You rock through it, get good grades, and roll through to a good job with good pay!”

Looking back, I understand why he was trying to enthuse a class of apathetic fourteen year olds with his cheesy one-liners. He was also most likely talking about success in the STEM subjects. So, being an arts graduate, I’m on a different scale.

My husband, on the other-hand, who I’ve been with since we were teenagers – both of us slightly unsure where we’d slot in when it came to careers – he chose a STEM subject, eventually moving along the educational ladder to obtain a Ph.D in Heterogeneous Catalysis (that’s chemistry, for those of you not in the know).

Everything seemed rosy, he’d completed his thesis back in January, which, those of you who have ever completed a Ph.D will know was no easy feat. He also has glowing references, as anyone who’s ever worked with him will attest, he’s nothing if not hard working.

Once he’d become a doctor, the interview invitations started coming in – but to no avail. The feedback suggested that he was ‘difficult to engage with’, which seemed odd; he’d tried so hard. Then it struck me: a few of my relatives had, in the past, expressed concern that he might be autistic, which didn’t bother me at the time, so I’d initially brushed it off.

He has since been informally diagnosed and referred to a specialist centre for more help.

Autism is particularly troubling because it’s an invisible disability, which can make diagnosis difficult. Many people, like my husband, aren’t diagnosed until adulthood. Here are some of the other difficulties that people with invisible disabilities face:

Long waiting times

A referral to an assessment centre took about a month to process. Once this had cleared, we were told that the waiting list was an estimated fourteen months.

If we wanted to pay for a private diagnosis, we were told it would have cost us £1,250 in total.

Communication

In the UK, only 16% of people diagnosed with autism are in full time employment. This is a tricky figure to digest, as each diagnosis exists on a vast spectrum, there’s no one face of autism- most autistic people don’t have chemistry Ph.Ds, so it’s difficult to know what my husband can expect. One thing that he does have in common with a lot of autistic males, however, is a shared lack of ‘people skills’.

The Equalities Act

The Equalities Act lists autism as a ‘protected characteristic’. This means that an employer cannot fire anyone because of it. However, when it comes to hiring, the rules are a little bit more murky – a company is not legally obliged to disclose why they haven’t hired someone, there are often so many candidates going for the same job that they can pick and choose at the interviewers’ discretion.

As such, we’ve had conflicting advice on whether to disclose his disability up front.

Overall, the main problem with job interviews is that they’re usually a ‘one size fits all’ situation, where first impressions are, more often than not, also last impressions too.

One thing that is clear, though, is that more needs to be done to enable people with disabilities, whether they’re invisible, or in plain sight.

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