While the world mourns the plunging stock exchange, I am secretly loving this so-called recession. No offence to anyone who pays me, but I don’t get much money for what I do…. and now everyone has been brought down to my level.

Before, I struggled to keep up with my friends who work in the corporate industry buying drinks and handbags and taking taxis. Now it’s OK to seriously hold back your spending justifying it by using the catchy words, ‘credit’ and ‘crunch’.

If I’m standing in the supermarket choosing between Andrex Super Deluxe Velvet Toilet Roll with extra padding, and Budgens bog standard own-brand paper, I simply sing to myself, ‘credit crunch!’ before shamelessly popping the latter in to my basket. If friends come over for dinner it is quite acceptable now to serve up chicken and chips (rather than lamb steaks with a red wine jus and polenta cakes) and it is also fine to decline a restaurant invitation on the grounds of a shrinking bank balance. But until now, I haven’t had the nerve to be open and proud about my thriftiness.

When I go to a friend’s wedding next month wearing the same old dress I always pull out for a simchah, I won’t be ashamed. Everyone understands. It’s like the spirit of the Blitz, only this time we’re not getting bombed as well.