It is over… for now.

Over a month ago my year of living without the Queen’s profile in my life ended. It had been an interesting year with ups and downs like any other, it just seemed like a lot of the down-moments were exacerbated by my cashless existence.

The amount of times that all I wanted to do was pig out on chocolate and ice cream from the local newsagents but needed to blow a £5er that I usually didn’t have in the first instance to do so. All the occasions I wanted to stay out and continue my night with friends but couldn’t convince the door staff of the club to let me in without paying a cash cover charge. Even all the times when all I wanted was to pick up a coffee from a market stall and wonder around Broadway Market – I can confidently say that on a number of occasions, I really felt like I was missing out.

That being said, I have to remind myself why I started the saga in the first instance; I think I knew before I even started that there would be sacrifices, otherwise everyone would be living without cash and this wouldn’t have been anything new!

So there was a number of things I could no longer do, it just happened that a number of them were very important to me whereas they may not be to others.

On a positive note? Well the biggest bonus was accomplishing what I had set out to achieve, I lived for an entire year without depending on the queen’s currency to survive.

I also learnt a lot about my own spending habits and my own perception of money (cash and electronic); I learnt that I was a habitual spender, I would blow the shrapnel in my pocket for a coffee I don’t need because I could, I’d buy another plain white T-shirt because I just happened to walk past Gap…

So much of my consumption just wasn’t necessary and I’m almost certain it was the actual transaction between my wallet and the cashier’s register that I was hooked on.

I also became acutely aware of other people’s perception [and sometimes obsession] with cash. Be it the man wafting a £20 note at a bar expecting to be served sooner, or the old women flaunting their pension money at each other – both insisting that they will pick up the cheque for two cups of tea and slice of carrot cake, almost squabbling over whose £10 note will be picked up by the uninterested waiting staff.

I was amazed as to how quickly I became frustrated with the general reluctance to leave cash in so many situations in which it was the slower, more frustrating way of paying for something. I am still confused as to why we still rely so heavily on such a cumbersome and outdated method, it just doesn’t make any sense!

So, anyway… the point of this post was to recall the delights of my first day back in the cashless world, the first day which [unsurprisingly maybe] was also one of my last forever.

I had decided, months earlier, that I was going to celebrate the year long milestone by doing the thing I had missed most; the markets! I also thought that it might be the perfect opportunity to say a big thank you to all the friends that had supported me.

The plan: To invite a select group of close and kind friends for coffee and breakfast at Columbia Road market in East London on the first Sunday after the year was over. Perfect.

Two birds, one stone, and a whole load of cash.

Well, in the end, being a Sunday morning, most of my friends were hungover and asleep all morning so the majority of my guest list was embarrassingly missing – serves me right for picking a Sunday morning I guess!

One friend made it though, and we were going to meet outside Shoreditch Church at 9.30am.

I left the house ridiculously early – after all, I knew that if I didn’t get up when I woke up I’d end up lying around in bed all morning, it just happened to be much earlier than necessary.

Arriving at the church half an hour early, I decided I’d walk down to the cash point on Shoreditch High Street to get the cash out, Oh but what a surprise I had when the cash point was empty! I should have known, the morning after the night before, Christmas party season, the east end – I didn’t stand much chance.

With a bit of a giggle, I turned around wondered where another cash point might be, it had been year since I had last needed one, so I was more than a little lost. Walking back up the high street I noticed one in the service station shop, knowing it was about to sting me a £1.50+ surcharge for using the damn thing, I sighed, shrugged my shoulders and went for it anyway, it was a celebration and what is a measly £1.50 when I’ve been blissfully not using the bastard things?!

Smiling at the irony of falling at the first hurdle quickly turned to a frown of frustration when the second ATM machine was ‘out of order’. What are the chances? Maybe this happens a lot and I had just forgotten about the rigmarole or withdrawing your own money in cash? Either way, I was starting to get pissed off.

Finally, on the third attempt, after walking however far out of my way, I finally managed to find a working cash point and withdraw £20.

Phew.

Thinking the ball-ache was over, I headed back to the meeting point, met my friend and we went to the market happy and celebratory.

Columbia Road market was everything I remember it being, vibrant, colourful, loud and fucking ram-packed with people. Even at 9am the road was choc-a-bloc with premed and perfect people, up early to stock up on flowers to liven up their homes. Things weren’t going to plan.

When we finally managed to battle our way through the hoards of people to the café I had been longing to go to for a year, it felt even busier than the bustling market street outside, there wasn’t room to stand, let alone sit and enjoy breakfast. Things really weren’t going to plan.

We trudged aimlessly up and down trying to find an alternative for  while before giving up and walking away from the crowds, back towards the main road, by this point hungry and aching legs from walking at a snails pace took over and priority was breakfast and caffeine, screw the location, screw the picturesque and impractical ideal I had harboured in my head for weeks in anticipation and screw ever single one of the beautiful couples strolling about, looking wonderful and spending reams of cash on flowers that won’t see out the week. Screw it all to hell.

We ended up at a little place I had been to loads in the last year, essentially because it was close to the market and they accept cards, this café had become my ‘next best thing’, it was everything I was trying to counter in this [now completely marred] celebration.

Still, we sat in the warm, we caught up, we drank tea and ate a proper hearty breakfast, all was not lost and, after it all, I still ended up paying by card!

I think it is fair to assume I am going to continue these cashless antics, soon enough it will catch on I am sure.