I'm tightening my belt - and boy, do I feel great about it

I was almost nostalgic for the days when dinner parties meant endless talk of spiralling property prices and which school to send little Amelia to. Now the crumbling economy means "gazundering" is on the menu, along with tales of woe at 25p on a wholemeal seeded batch. I hid my £8 Poil‚ne loaf and handed out some stale crusts.

My parents would be horrified. How decadent that we high earners feign anxiety over grocery bills when they had to conjure scraps into meals to feed us. And all discussed over a carefully planned organic feast, washed down with a good dry white.

As the artisan cheesecake hit the table, I decided enough was enough. It was time to face up to our middleclass neuroses with a game of credit crunch dilemmas:

Waitrose or Morrisons? Do you go to Waitrose on Holloway Road for high-class comfort food? Or pop round the corner to cut-price Morrisons for the best butchery department, selling fashionably cheap cuts like scrag end of lamb? Waitrose had better watch out. Already my friends are doing a double shop - basics in Morrisons, then a few luxury buys at Waitrose.

Oyster card or car? Islington council has served us twin reasons to dump our car. First, the parking fee doubled when our battered Beetle was reclassed a "gas guzzler", then the council offered a £200 bike voucher to any home that tore up its parking permit. But with three bikes already in our two-person home, the car keys remain in the kitchen drawer, ready for a trip to the supermarket.

Muddy veg or gastropub? Organic veg boxes are an economic way to shop and eat, though only if you actually use the contents. Faced with the challenge of making something tasty with a kohlrabi or nipping to The Landseer for some gastrogrub, the vegetable invariably loses.

Lunch or sandwiches? While expense accounts last, lunch remains on the menu. Back home, leftovers are likely to be frozen, not scraped into the bin, recalling the thrifty Queen's predilection for Tupperware. My granny would be proud.

Full-head or half? The well-groomed woman's biggest challenge - how to cut back on beauty? As I booked my tri-annual £240 hair appointment this week I was relieved to hear myself ordering only a half-head of highlights and a junior stylist: "It's long hair," I pleaded, "it only needs a trim."

Cleaner or curry? When the day comes that I must choose between Polish Agnes and a Bengal Thali with a bottle of wine, I know who's getting my last £27.

DIY or Do It For You? Not so lucky the "man who can" whose number I had on speed dial in case of minor household catastrophes. DIY stores boom in recessions and I have just bought my first ever drill in Homebase. It's still in its box but I will risk my own efforts the next time I have a curtain to hang.

Jumper or heating? Recently I've found myself pulling a blanket round my shoulders while watching Gavin and Stacey rather than reboot the central heating. A cool April means our gas bills aren't just up, they're through the roof. Which reminds me, better insulate the loft.

The longer we went on, the clearer it became. This talk of economising is all in the head. We might be making a few judicious cuts, but we're hardly saving a fortune. We're simply salving our conscience. Hardship's never felt so good.