My new coffee set up will save me £900 a year
I recently came to the (rather humbling) discovery that I was spending about £1,200 a year on iced oat lattes.
Can you believe that! Over a grand a year on coffee. Millennials these days.
Firstly, it’s probably best to state that I’m being dramatic. I don’t buy an iced oat latte every single day.
Although, in theory, it costs £3.40 for my drink of choice, and if you did times that by 365 days a year… we would end up with the alarming total of £1,241.00.
I apologise for the click-baity title - but that’s the world we live in, Brenda.
But I do treat myself to a cheeky iced latte A LOT, so I think estimating about a grand is probably quite sensible, and shocking. (Also explains why my shoe collection is looking so dire.)
I love my morning coffee.
I look after my Dad’s dog Sam most days, so I take Sam out for a walk, grab my iced oat latte from the local coffee van called Can’t Dance Coffee in Clifton, and take Sam for a run around the dog park.
It’s a quaint but apparently expensive ritual. (I’m not even going to think about the added expense of the occasional cinnamon buns…)
So, I made the very clever, mature, and frugal decision of setting up the ultimate iced oat latte station in my very own home.
This will not only save me loads of money so I can potentially join the #vanlife gang next summer, but will also give me a good life skill I can impress people with when they come over.
But what would I need to imitate my existing experience?
A banging coffee machine that’s easy to use because I am not a trained barista (and also sometimes a bit thick)
A tall, clear, reusable iced coffee cup with a straw - that does not have a Starbucks logo anywhere in sight - my Starbucks rant is one for another day *bleugh*
Those floppy soft ice cube trays by the dozen to keep up with the new home requirements
A positive attitude
A Monzo card
And so I went about my coffee-fuelled adventure.
The first thing I did was buy an espresso machine. To be precise, I bought this exact espresso machine for £39.99. It’s from Robert Dyas and is normally £69.99, apparently. Normally I don’t like to go cheap on things that are important to me, as I’m a quality over quantity sort of person, but this one had really good reviews and I thought it was good to start somewhere while I perfect my recipe. (Pretty sure the recipe is just espresso, milk and ice? TBC!).
The Evening Standard included this little bastard in its December round up aptly titled, Best budget coffee machines: Get a great coffee without breaking the bank. I tell you what, if it’s good enough for the Evening Standard it’s good enough for me.
Next, I ordered two tall, reusable cups, with straws, from Amazon, so I can take my iced coffees out on my dog walks like I currently do. (It’s not a drink, it’s a lifestyle.) I’m not proud that I paid £22 for these including postage, but because I ordered a £40 coffee machine instead of the £110 one I had my eye on, I didn’t feel so bad.
Here’s where the real excitement began. I started looking at fun, silicone ice cube trays. You can get cute little octopus friends to float in your drink! Joyous!
After I’d wasted about 30 minutes on Amazon, I decided I already had ice cube trays and pulled myself together.
Next… coffee! The most important ingredient to my new savvy lifestyle. I’ll probably go for something trendy like this Bourbon Cream Espresso from Pact Coffee, because that’s the sort of chick I am. Pact Coffee are also doing these adorable advent calendars this year, which I’m obsessed with.
I may do another follow up post once I’ve perfected my recipe, because I think this may take some work/experimentation. I now regret not getting a job at the Starbucks at the service station when everyone else did when we were all 17.
If anyone reading this has any advice for making great coffee at home - please send it my way!
While this might arguably be an unusual first newsletter to send out on my new Substack, the important thing is I’m getting started. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is just start. I’m a perfectionist by nature, and sometimes that means I will procrastinate to within an inch of my being just to avoid actually starting something. “If it’s not perfect, and I’m not in the headspace to make it perfect, I simply will not!!!” my brain tells itself on repeat while I watch Youtube videos of Martijn Doolaard documenting his restoration of an Alpine cabin. (I really honestly do highly recommend that you do the same.)
But anyway - I DIGRESS.
Thank you if you’ve read as far as this point, who knows what I’ll talk about next! Probably more nonsense! :)
A good deed a day keeps the devil away - and your good deed of the day can be sharing my Substack with a friend, if you like: