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How smart home-charging turned the petrol forecourt into a problem of the past

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

Fluctuating petrol prices and time wasted on the garage forecourt are things of the past for Nigel Perry.

Last year, the 75-year-old former managing director of a medical products manufacturer bought himself an electric car – a Lexus RZ – and installed an EV charger at his home in the Ribble Valley.

Previously, he had a plug-in hybrid, but decided he wanted to commit to going purely electric.

Shorts – Quick stories

“It was a long decision,” he explains. “I enjoyed the hybrid, it had good mileage. But it’s a bit more difficult getting into a low-down car, so I wanted an SUV.”

He admits that at first, he experienced “range anxiety” that is associated with driving electric vehicles, but soon found that his set-up at home was perfect for the driving he does.

“I picked up the car last year in November, on my birthday,” says Nigel.

“I’m already with Octopus Energy and I saw that they were just bringing out their own charger and their intelligent charging sounded like a good idea, so I put my name down to be among the first to receive them in January.”

What had piqued Nigel’s interest is the combination of the Octopus Charge EV charger and the Intelligent Octopus Go tariff. It automatically charges your car when it’s cheapest, which means you can enjoy savings of up to 68 per cent on EV charging.

How smart home charging turned the petrol forecourt into a problem of the past for this EV driver Image supplied by Octopus.Energy — The Intelligent Octopus Go tariff automatically charges your car when it’s cheapest, which means you can enjoy savings of up to 68 per cent on EV charging (Photo: Octopus.Energy)

An effortless switch

“Octopus were very good. I put my name down in December and they called me back about once a week to give me an update,” says Nigel. “Then they called in January and said they could come in two weeks.”

Ahead of their visit, Nigel had taken pictures and shared information about the location of the electric meter, so when the Octopus team came, it was seamless.

“The guy arrived on time and knew exactly what he was doing,” says Nigel. “So it was all done in about three hours.

“I asked for the charger to be installed around the side of the house, and the cable just winds up and fits on a rack.”

Gaming the grid

The real benefit for Nigel isn’t just his electric SUV, it’s the fact he can combine going electric with a tariff that works for him.

When Nigel plugs in his car, he simply uses the app to say how much charge he wants and by what time and it automatically charges during the times of the cheapest rates.

“I can say to increase the charge by 30 per cent by 7.30am tomorrow and leave it to it,” says Nigel.

“My wife’s car is plugged in at the moment and on the app it tells me that it is charging from now to 5.30pm, then it stops, then again at 10.30pm, then midnight until 6am.”

Nigel says he is fairly computer-savvy, but finds the app so intuitive that he believes anyone can use it easily.

“If you need your car to be ready sooner, you can simply give it a boost so it charges faster. It costs more but gives you that flexibility.”

Life on the road

Filling up the car with petrol at a garage is a thing of the past for Nigel. Most of his journeys are more on the local side, with a 40- to 50-mile trip to the Trafford Centre about as far as he travels, meaning he only needs to charge his car at home.

When it comes to longer journeys, such as a plan to visit his sister-in-law in Dorset, Octopus has made it easier with Octopus Electroverse, which removes the stress of charging on longer journeys by putting everything you need in one place.

The free-to-join app and Electroverse card connects hundreds of thousands of chargers to show you exactly where to stop on longer journeys. Paying is easy too as you can either tap your card or start charging directly from the app. You can even link it to your Octopus Energy account, so payments appear on your electricity bill.

“The app tells you where there are charging points that accept the card and which ones are free so you can pull into them and do your charge right away,” explains Nigel.

“It gives you the confidence that you’re not going to find 20 or 30 Teslas in a queue when you get there.”

Is it worth it?

Even the busiest Britons don’t do the daily mileage they may think they do. With over four in five UK drivers covering less than 40 miles a day*, EVs are a great option for the majority of people.

Nigel acknowledges that electric cars can cost more up front, but he is convinced of the long-term savings and pleased that he is doing his bit for the environment.

But by far the biggest benefit he has found is the ease of charging thanks to his Octopus home charger and the Intelligent Octopus Go tariff.

“The app is very simple to use and no problem at all,” he explains. “It virtually guides you through what you want to do. You simply set times and the amount of energy; press save and leave it to it.

“I don’t think anybody should have a problem with it. It’s so easy to use and set up and you know it’s choosing the times with the best prices.”

The benefits of Intelligent Octopus Go

When you opt for this Octopus tariff designed especially for EV drivers, you unlock a whole range of benefits that include charges being automatically scheduled for when energy is cheapest and paying only pay 8p per kWh no matter what time of day you charge.

You can also enjoy six hours of cheap energy for your whole home each night, while checking and tracking energy spend easily from the Octopus app, and enjoying up to 8 per cent off public charging with the Octopus Electroverse card.

Find out more about EV chargers , and verify our claims, at octopus.energy

*YouGov continuously collected data through rolling surveys, Nov 2024 – Nov 2025

At 50, I took a solo trip to Asia

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

Poor Tess Daly and Vernon Kay. Their split, announced last week, sounds amicable but nonetheless, ending a 23-year marriage is no easy decision, even if it is a mutual one.

It will inevitably involve some sadness and upheaval for the couple and their two daughters, aged 21 and 16. I feel nothing but sympathy, especially for Tess, 57.

As a woman in your fifties, it is tough to suddenly find that all your assumptions about the life ahead, as part of a couple, have been destroyed.

I should know, having got divorced last year after 24 years of marriage. It is destabilising to realise that you won’t grow old or become grandparents together, that you will be living alone for the first time in decades.

It leaves you with blank pages in place of the future chapters you had sketched out.

But uncertainty, by its nature, comes with a silver lining of opportunity.

According to some reports, Tess had wanted the couple to take a “grown-up gap year” following her departure from Strictly Come Dancing, to do something a bit “selfish” after years of hard graft in showbiz. But Vernon couldn’t commit to taking too much time away from his Radio 2 show.

Whether that impasse had anything to do with their split, or was a symptom of their diverging paths, Tess is now free to take a grown-up gap year on her own. And I strongly recommend that she – and anyone else facing a mid-life crossroads – seizes that chance if they can.

Two years ago, I did exactly that. Not in the wake of divorce but when my marriage was heading for the rocks, like a ship with a hold full of dynamite. Neither of us was ready to concede that it was over, and we were still making efforts to correct our course, but as we later admitted to each other, it had been doomed for a while.

LONDON, ENGLAND - FEBRUARY 26: Tess Daly and Vernon Kay attend the press night performance of "Madam Butterfly", part of the English National Opera's 2019/20 season, at The London Coliseum on February 26, 2020 in London, England. (Photo by David M. Benett/Dave Benett/Getty Images) — Tess Daly, who has announced her separation from her husband Vernon Kay, is said to be keen to take a year off and go travelling (Photo: Dave Benett/Getty)

Yet we clung on, fearful of what lay the other side, unwilling to upend our children’s world, particularly with A-levels and university exams looming. It wasn’t all misery. We often made each other laugh, but our social lives were becoming increasingly separate, our views and values were deviating, and I felt hurt and resentful. As a result, I was little fun to live with.

Perhaps, I thought, if I could just escape from the domestic pressure cooker, I would get the time and perspective I needed to think.

Some people might have gone on a meditation or yoga retreat, but these have never appealed. I prefer exploring. I worked out that it would cost me the same to spend 10 weeks backpacking in Southeast Asia as a week in a swanky wellness retreat in Europe drinking green juice and chanting “Om”. With a small pot of savings, I could still pay the mortgage. And as a self-employed writer, I didn’t need to negotiate time away from work.

My husband was not thrilled that I didn’t invite him to share any of it, but as no fan of heat, humidity or backpacking, he would have loathed it. Besides, he had a book to finish.

Some friends thought it was a brilliant plan and decided to join me for two or three-week stretches. Others, unaware of the strains behind our public facade as a happy couple, were surprised. Was this a mid-life crisis? Wasn’t it a bit selfish?

Well, yes, it was, but it was essential for my sanity. I’d always scoffed at the idea of people going travelling to “find” themselves, but I realised that was exactly what I needed to do.

Over the years, like many people, I felt I had lost a bit of who I had been. The adventurer who hitchhiked through eastern Zimbabwe, laughed in the face of danger and made friends everywhere had become submerged by domesticity and work. I could never be that person again, but I wanted to retrieve some of that fearlessness and openness.

The timing was good: my son was in his final year of university and my daughter was embarking on her own post-A-level travels. So, a few months after turning 50, I headed for Heathrow.

Over 10 weeks, often with friends, but sometimes alone, I explored Cambodia, Laos and Thailand. I trekked in jungles, kayaked down rivers, swam in sparkling seas and under waterfalls, climbed hills to watch the sunrise, and met some wonderful people including several women who were also travelling solo, some after a divorce or bereavement, as well as couples taking extended holidays, sabbaticals or early retirement.

The whole experience was exhilarating, revitalising and utterly joyful. Instead of a worried frown, I wore a permanent grin and slept better than I had for years, even in a hammock in the jungle.

I also talked over my domestic situation with my friends. It felt easier, less disloyal to confide in them when far from home. The relief at unburdening myself was intense. They helped me see that I was not as trapped as I felt. That life was for living, not enduring, that an unhappy marriage was ultimately not good for me, my husband or my children.

Even so, when I returned home, it took another six months before I finally filed for divorce.

I have no doubt that it would have taken even longer – or I might not have done it at all – had I not taken my mini gap year.

I hadn’t climbed Everest, saved lives or done anything particularly admirable, but for me it was enough. I had proved to myself that I had the independence and courage to go it alone, and that while I had failed to find, or create, lasting happiness in my marriage, I was adept at finding it elsewhere – in travel, in nature, in friendship and adventure.

And this has been the case. I am a hundred times happier than before. My ex-husband is too. We divorced amicably and remain friendly. The children have coped admirably and think that we made the right decision.

Tess Daly strikes me as a resilient, resourceful person. I hope she takes her grown-up gap year, not the one she had originally planned, but an even better one. And I hope it brings her joy, peace and optimism as it did for me.

I lost 1.5 stone after switching to a four-day week

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

New research presented at the European Congress on Obesity in Istanbul suggests that people who work longer hours are more likely to be obese. A lack of time can lead workers to rely on unhealthy convenience food and with less time to exercise, as well as higher levels of the stress hormone cortisol, which can increase fat storage. Every one per cent reduction in working hours was associated with a 0.16 per cent decrease in obesity rates.

Susie Masterson, a 51-year-old psychotherapist and coach based in Manchester, first experimented with a four-day work week two years ago, before fully transitioning in January 2026. She explains how having Wednesdays away from work has transformed her health, resulting in significant weight loss, increased strength and a dramatic improvement to her overall wellbeing.

Before I retrained a decade ago, I worked in the tech sector for 20 years. I would regularly work 60-hour weeks. It had a massive impact on my health. I experienced multiple instances of burnout in that role; there were such highs and lows, and the pressure was constant. I needed to be on my A-game which was really detrimental both physically and mentally. I had lots of migraines, lots of digestive issues, low-level but chronic conditions and unexplained skin flare-ups that a holistic specialist would probably identify as stress.

I felt like I was investing in myself because I was paying for a personal trainer and therapy, but I wasn’t actually managing to stay on top of it all, I was so busy that I wasn’t consistent and wasn’t really taking care of myself outside of those sessions.

The long hours also impacted me nutritionally. I grew up as a young woman in the 90s (I’m not quite sure how any of us survived that era). There was the expectation of slimness placed on women, combined with the erratic hours and intensity, which made my diet really difficult to manage. I used to have what I jokingly called the “breakfast of champions”, which was a Diet Coke and a Mars bar and say things like “it’s the same thing as a SlimFast”. I would eat a lot of carbs and caffeine and processed food – not McDonald’s and things like that, but takeaway sandwiches and crisps. I would then have long periods of unintentional fasting, which I think my ADHD contributed to; if I was deep in a project, I would just forget to eat.

When I retrained as a psychotherapist and became self-employed 10 years ago, things dramatically improved. I began understanding women’s health issues, which encouraged me to improve my diet. But with this new role came a new kind of work pressure. I spend my time helping others, hearing intense stories and keeping it all confidential (apart from in supervision). It’s a very intense, isolating job. After three or four years into my private practice, even though I was already doing a lot fewer hours than I was in tech, I was yet again becoming depleted.

In my late 40s, I started to experience what I assumed were perimenopausal symptoms. I put on weight, despite the fact that I was still exercising at the gym regularly. I was starting to get migraines and all those other things I’d hadn’t experienced since I left the tech sector, as well as additional symptoms like anxiety. I took HRT, which was helpful but it wasn’t enough.

The symptoms weren’t as acute as in my previous career, but I started to make the connection. I was yet again burnt out. Changing my career had been sufficient before to give me a rest and help me recover, but this time, I wanted to practice what I preach. It was really important for me to do a map of my personal situation and understand where I could get real change back.

I went down to four days because I really didn’t want to get burned out again. Of course, I had to sacrifice a certain amount of salary to achieve this. I experimented with four-day weeks two years ago, but couldn’t keep it up financially until committing in January this year. And this time, because I feel much healthier, I can actually extend my working days. I’ve started doing conferences and getting paid for public speaking. I couldn’t have done this just by putting more time in the diary.

And at first, I thought Wednesday would be a creative day for me, where I could write my book. But I quickly realised having that time meant I was gravitating towards exercising first, doing things like meal prep and batch cooking, and suddenly it became what I call my “Total Health Day”. I realised it wasn’t enough to clear the decks so I could write my book or focus on my media work, I simply wasn’t healthy enough to do that.

I started “exercise snacking” throughout Wednesdays, which means short bursts of exercise throughout the day which would cumulatively add up to 30-40 minutes of 10-minute increments. Over time, that built up and I am now doing much longer strength training sessions every Wednesday. From there, I added in increments of strength training on Saturdays and Sundays, which have also built up to much longer strength training sessions. So these little pockets have built up both my strength and my motivation to keep going – I never used to do long sessions like that.

I’ve not only lost 10kg, I’ve also lost hidden, visceral fat around my organs, and increased my ratio of muscle to fat, which was really important to me. I feel much stronger doing tasks and much more flexible. I used to have a lot of joint pain in my hip and wondered if it was arthritis. But now, I have no pain at all.

Focusing on diet and exercise on that day off has actually given me more capacity to do the creative work I originally thought I’d do on my non-working day. It’s had a ripple effect on my productivity.

I genuinely do believe that working just four days a week has given me more capacity to understand my health and the health of others. It’s really changed what I do with my body.

12 England bowlers, ranked by how likely they are to face New Zealand

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

With England’s first Test since last winter’s Ashes nearly upon us, the race for places for the three-match series against New Zealand is hotting up.

The squad for the first Test at Lord’s on 4 June is expected this week. And while much attention has been focussed on the batting, with the competition to replace opener Zak Crawley seemingly now between Durham pair Ben McKinney and Emilio Gay, the composition of England’s bowling attack is even more intriguing.

This will be the first summer since 2006 when England have been unable to call on any of James Anderson, Stuart Broad or Chris Woakes.

But there are plenty of options for coach Brendon McCullum and captain Ben Stokes, even though injuries to Brydon Carse, Mark Wood and spinner Jack Leach have ruled that trio out.

Here, The i Paper takes you through the potential bowling options to face New Zealand – and weighs up the likelihood of each taking part in the series.

Josh Tongue

2026 average: 11 wickets @ 25.90

The Nottinghamshire quick was one of the few players who stood up in Australia, taking 18 wickets at 20.11 during the Ashes. The 28-year-old has started the season well, too, and is the one bowler who looks guaranteed to take on the Black Caps at Lord’s.

Likelihood of playing in the New Zealand series: 10

NOTTINGHAM, ENGLAND - APRIL 24: Josh Tongue of Nottinghamshire prepares to bowl during the Rothesay County Championship Division 1 match between Nottinghamshire and Warwickshire at Trent Bridge on April 24, 2026 in Nottingham, England. (Photo by David Rogers/Getty Images) — Tongue is likely to lead the England attack this summer (Photo: Getty)

Jofra Archer

2026 average: N/A

The fast bowler returned home early from Australia with a side strain but has since recovered and is currently playing in the Indian Premier League, where he has been a regular for Rajasthan Royals. Archer gets into England’s strongest team but may sit out the first Test against New Zealand given he will probably need time to up his bowling loads in the nets as he makes the transition from T20 cricket.

NZ likelihood: 10

Gus Atkinson

2026 average: 3 @ 56

The 28-year-old is one of England’s first-choice bowling picks and will surely play most Tests this summer. Yet he may have to wait to be involved against New Zealand given he was concussed by Tongue batting in the latest round of Championship games. Having only played one full match for Surrey this summer, he may need time to get himself up to speed physically.

NZ likelihood: 9

Ollie Robinson

2026 average: 17 @ 26.17

Has not played Test cricket since the tour of India in early 2024 but the off-field issues that seemingly contributed to him being frozen out have been resolved and he’s back in contact with England’s hierarchy. A likely leader of the attack, his form at the start of the season for an in-form Sussex team, who he now captains, suggests he will be recalled for Lord’s.

NZ likelihood: 8

England's Sonny Baker bowls during the third Twenty20 International cricket match between Ireland and England at Malahide cricket club in Dublin on September 21, 2025. (Photo by Paul Faith / AFP) (Photo by PAUL FAITH/AFP via Getty Images) — Sonny Baker is desperate to put his two nightmare England debuts behind him (Photo: Getty)

We devalued the word ‘racist’

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

The aftershocks of last week’s elections continue to rumble. The Prime Minister is fighting for his political life, while the United Kingdom now has separatist parties governing three of its four constituent nations.

In local government, the challenge posed by the result is no less sizeable – in particular, the views of some of those new councillors are deeply troubling.

On both sides of the spectrum, and across the country, people celebrated victory on Friday who have a disturbing track record of what many will deem to be extremist and racist views.

The sewer of hateful positions runs deep and wide. From Glenn Gibbins, elected for Reform in Sunderland last week, who previously posted that Nigerians should be melted down to “fill in the pot holes”, to Saiqa Ali, elected in Lambeth on Thursday for the Green Party, who in 2024 posted antisemitic imagery showing the Earth being crushed by a Star of David-emblazoned serpent.

These are just two examples. There are plenty more where those came from. They show that of late our cordon sanitaire locking such people out of elected office has broken down.

We’ve never had a ban on particular views on the ballot. Nor should we; a democracy lives or dies on its capacity to debate and test ideas of all sorts.

Instead, we as a society have chosen to reject such poison for many years. Most bluntly at the ballot box, where voters repeatedly knocked back extremist candidates. But also through institutions, such as political parties, choosing to expel such candidates rather than promote them, and other means like through media scrutiny and social disapproval.

By and large that was effective. On the rare occasions that racists broke through, such as the BNP securing two MEPs in the late 2000s, the tide of voter disapproval and robust political challenge reversed it at the next election.

Generally the line held, particularly as mainstream parties promptly binned candidates if any got through, and were punished by the public at the ballot box if they failed to do so.

That is no longer the case. The two candidates above were successfully elected even though their dodgy history had been publicly exposed before polling day. How did this happen?

Some of it is logistics: small parties have been overwhelmed by a rush of hundreds of thousands of members and a need for thousands of council candidates. There’s some truth in Reform and the Greens’ line that it’s hard to vet them all.

But that can’t be the whole story. Vetting is a prophylactic; for it to be of use, there must still be problems for the vetters to find. The truth is that – like Corbyn’s Labour before them – some parties are attracting people like this in the first place.

For Reform, that arises from what looks like a deliberate weakening of the hard line Ukip and the Brexit Party used to take against extremism, egged on by Maga in the US.

For the Greens, it springs from the sense (no matter how strenuously denied) that the party’s strategy appears to be for a radical alliance with Islamists, and to piggyback on the antisemitism-riddled, anti-Israel movement.

The parties themselves do appear, in some cases, to be taking steps to clear up the mess they allowed to develop. Gibbins has been suspended from Reform pending investigation. The local Green Party says it has suspended Ali (inset) pending investigation and that candidates suspended from the Green Party at the time of election will not serve as Green Party councillors.

Ali apologised for “any offence or distress” caused by her comments, saying she “unequivocally rejects antisemitism in all its forms” and that her post was intended to reflect concern about the humanitarian situation in the Middle East.

Reform’s Gibbins, meanwhile, said his comments had been “dark humour” and he bore no ill will towards Nigerians.

Most disturbingly of all, it seems that the public themselves have weakened in their resolve to reject such candidates if they get through to the ballot paper.

We are demonstrably a far less racist country than at any time in our past, and yet stories like these run directly counter to that trend.

In part, I suspect it’s because of the fragmentation of trust, just as party politics has fragmented. It’s now more possible than it was before to live in an echo chamber, rejecting factual news that doesn’t match your political preferences.

In part, it’s because vibes-based politics has cross-bred with the culture war to urge that we increasingly prize our tribe – and stuffing the tribe we dislike – more than shared values like basic decency, to the extent that even legitimate criticism is itself celebrated a sign – in the words of the Green Party’s favourite memes – that you have got your opponents “rattled”.

It’s also because we allowed the word “racist” to become devalued, sacrificing its crucial and valuable meaning in service of increasingly bizarre political agendas.

When maths, correct grammar and classical music, to name but a few targets of particularly absurd campaigns, are supposedly “racist”, the term loses all meaning. And when you devalue the word that defines a real, serious threat that you need to defeat, you make that threat harder to fight.

It’s all very well to now say that we shouldn’t have let this happen. It has. The barbarians are inside the gate, the cordon sanitaire has been breached, and it falls to all of us to drive them back.

My husband and I share every penny using Splitwise. We’ve never argued about money

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

Two coffees at the weekend. Add it to the tab. Spontaneous mid-week shop for Weetabix and strawberries. Add it to the tab. A re-order of the needlessly fancy pet food that our dog has guilt-tripped us into buying, lest she go on hunger strike. Add it to the tab.

Since we started dating nearly a decade ago, my husband and I have had this same financial setup. If we’re out together and someone picks up the bill, or a shared item is bought by one person, then it gets added to a rolling tab. We use the ‘Split’ option on our Monzo bank accounts, but it works the same as Splitwise or any other cost-sharing app. Essentially, it keeps a running total of what we’re spending and who owes what.

There are no financial demands or angry letters if one person’s debt starts to pile a little higher, we just make a conscious effort to readjust. Next weekend, he buys the flat whites.

To us, this makes sense. But for others, the fact that we have lived together since 2018, paid a joint mortgage for years, own a car, a Border Terrier, and a dodgy boiler, makes this system odd. We are legally married, so for all intents and purposes are entitled to each other’s cash anyway.

At the beginning, this was a product of two single people coming together and trying to (broadly) share the cost of dates. It can be hard to keep track manually, but it was important that one of us wasn’t shouldering way more financial responsibility. Of course, there are nice treats or special occasions, but equal sharing is a foundational pillar for us.

As time has gone on, we acquired a joint account for major expenses – the mortgage, council tax, water, etc, which we split equitably (ie. he earns slightly more so pays slightly more; we both pay the same proportion of our wage). We pay a fixed lump sum into that account once a month. After bills are paid, there is a buffer left over for big expenses.

But the little drip, drip, drip of spending in daily life? The unpredictable costs that ebb and flow each month? The money for that remains in our separate bank accounts. With some separate savings and separate credit cards.

Both of us – mainly me, in fact totally me – longed to maintain financial independence. I don’t want all of my money going into one giant pot; I like making decisions about what I’m spending my money on, and not having to explain that to anyone else. If I want to spend £100 on new shoes, that’s my call. If I want to invest my life savings in icebergs, then I should probably take some financial advice, but it would be up to me. If it was a totally pooled resource, I’d feel like I had to justify any expenses to my co-investor (not that he would ask).

Compared to a fully joint account, this setup has the benefit of preserving that independence but does mean that when we buy items together there is a little bit of admin to make sure we’re equally sharing the cost. It’s imperfect, but it works for us.

We aren’t the only ones. A report published last year found that 44 per cent of those in long-term relationships think totally joint bank accounts are old-fashioned. The research, by wealth managers MoneyFarm, found the reasons given were that some partners were spendthrifts (20 per cent) or had terrible debt (13 per cent) but like me, many (a third) want to be financially independent where possible. (There is a suggestion that this is also about being secretive with money: my husband is more than welcome to look at my bank statements.)

Hundreds of discussion boards on Reddit and Mumsnet ponder this same question: are joint bank accounts an essential tool or an outdated concept? Historically, of course, many women would not have been the earners in a heterosexual relationship – or at least would not have been earning enough to be the breadwinner – so contributing equally from financial standpoint would have been hard to achieve. Not to mention women couldn’t even open their own bank accounts without their husband or father’s approval before 1975. Those women deserved equal access to that envelope of earnings at the end of the week.

But today, many couples are made up of two earners – whether part-time or full-time – as a result, both parties are coming to relationships with broader financial foundations. More to contribute, but also more to protect. One in six women in the UK has experienced financial abuse in a current or former relationship, according to a 2020 report. And Home Office data shows a correlation between economically disenfranchised women and risk: women who can’t find £100 at short notice are three and a half times more likely to experience domestic abuse.

I believe that whoever you are with, for women, it is financially prudent to not pour every penny into a joint kitty. In the future, I know that our earning power will become more imbalanced, with considerations like maternity leave and my loss of earnings, and we will cross that bridge when we get to it. But I intend to keep a personal ring-fenced account, for better or for worse.

I know some people loathe this kind of money-counting – seeing it as, at best, unspontaneous and laborious, and at worst, tight and penny-pinching. Many a friendship have been soured by the unequal splitting of a restaurant bill (I didn’t even have a starter!). But for us, it’s a system that works. Just don’t look at how much we’re spending on coffee.

I regret devoting my life to work

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

Apparently, climbing up the career ladder isn’t as fashionable as it used to be when I started my first job in the late 90s. In a 2025 report by McKinsey, significantly fewer women were interested in getting a promotion than their male counterparts. 69 per cent of entry-level women wanted to advance versus 80 per cent of entry-level men.

Another study by recruitment consultants Robert Walters, revealed over half (54 per cent) of UK female professionals felt less motivated to pursue promotions compared to two years ago – a trend they’ve named “promotion burnout”.

I don’t find it surprising that young women are falling out of love with the relentless hamster wheel. They know what I didn’t when I was starting out: women have to work harder than men, and get half as much reward.

Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so obsessive about promotions. In 1998, I joined a market research agency run by two women, and straight away realised there was a strong hierarchy in place. The path to progression was obvious. This was good, I had thought. I could see the hoops I needed to jump through to get to the next level, like Sonic The Hedgehog, but less fun.

The hours were long in market research. We often did a full day in the office, and then focus groups (moderating or observing) late into the evening, sometimes finishing work at 11pm, and sometimes having client meetings after the groups finished. I had thought the travel was glamorous until it was pusing me to the limit. We would fly to New York, get off the plane, shower and then there would be a client meeting and groups to moderate. The culture was macho, so illness was frowned upon. Success meant being pushed to your limits.

I remember a beautiful, sunny day in Paris. I spent it sitting in a pitch-dark viewing facility, listening to a French guy speak (with a monotone translator in my ears). He was talking to a group of participants about the ideal words to “describe a fantasy duvet filling”. The sessions were three hours long. At one point, I almost fell asleep; the heat inside was unbearable. I kept wondering why I was listening to this crap. Who even cared? Normal people were on terraces and drinking wine, smoking – probably hooking up.

I was in my late 20s then, but slowly, I moved up the ladder. I had a lot more money, was earning well in excess of £120,000, but tended to blow it all on clothes and skincare the minute I got paid.

I started to get tension headaches. I would take Nurofen Plus, and over a period of months, I became hooked on them. I started to develop digestive problems, and my skin always looked tired. I had no time to exercise. Most of my colleagues were also navigating stress through drinking too much or having mental breakdowns or tantrums.

And then I was promoted (it took me eight years to get to senior manager) and was given more responsibilities. I was seen as being a great “people person” (probably because I was a woman), and I ended up doing dozens of appraisals each month. In the appraisals, I’d listen to young women complain about how they were struggling to be seen, how male colleagues often interrupted them or didn’t take their ideas seriously, how sometimes they said inappropriate things too (there were a lot of away days where things happened that shouldn’t have). I noticed that the crap that I’d put up with early on (listening to male colleagues wang on about themselves, having them tell me I looked haggard or ‘I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me right now’), well, it was still happening! I started to feel disillusioned.

When I had my first child after fertility treatment (and three miscarriages, which I navigated at work), my bosses sent me a text saying that there was a “restructure” and that my role no longer existed. My daughter was two weeks old. I’d worked for the company for 15 years. I remember having a lunch meeting with one of my bosses, and feeling so lost, holding my baby, and thinking that this was somehow my fault. I hadn’t been good enough to be a senior leader. I reflect now and wish I’d been angrier. When I came back, people I’d hired were now managing me. I disengaged. I did the bare minimum. I hated it and wanted to leave. In many ways, this extreme disillusionment forced me to reassess what I wanted in life. I had felt as if the agency was my family, but of course, it wasn’t.

My advice for young women who are starting out on their careers is simple. Firstly, make sure that you never think that your boss is your mum or your dad. Secondly, look at the senior women, do they have the type of lifestyle and values you’d like to have in the future? Is there room for a work-life balance, or are they giving everything they have?

I am not surprised that many don’t want to dedicate their entire beings to work. I am now transactional when it comes to work. I don’t get attached. I earn far less than I did, but my headaches have eased. I don’t have the status, but it was built on shaky ground and wasn’t sustainable. There’s no point being at the top of a ladder that you don’t want to be up.

I now feel healthier, happier and more authentic. My life was built around work. Now my relationships are at its centre.

Reform’s biggest threat isn’t another party

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

As Reform UK revels in its success in last week’s local elections – winning 1,450 council seats – the idea of prime minister Nigel Farage no longer looks like a pipe dream for the Clacton MP.

In response to Friday’s results Farage said this is “a truly historic shift in British politics,” and that these results would not be a “one-off”.

There is no doubt that the party has capitalised on public frustration over immigration, living standards and distrust in Westminster – and has gone from a fringe movement to a serious force in British politics. But, can Reform UK keep growing – or has it peaked?

Michael Crick, Jonn Elledge and Zoë Grünewald offer their perspectives.

On Friday night, as a turquoise tide threatened to drown old parties and liberal values alike, the veteran pollster Peter Kellner said something reassuring: “Nigel Reform should be privately worried.”

“If there were no polls, and there had been no elections last year, this year’s figure would be astonishing,” he wrote on his Substack about Reform’s percentage vote share. “But we do have the record of recent polls and elections, and it seems clear that Reform has peaked.”

This was, so far as it goes, comforting. It does not go very far. Reform still “won” the local elections, taking councils in red and blue Britain alike. It still leads the national polls, albeit less convincingly than it did last autumn (on roughly 25 per cent, down from 31 per cent).

Sure, the Government’s travails may come less from Labour-Reform switchers than from losing votes to the Greens – but under a first-past-the-post electoral system, that is enough to make prime minister Nigel Farage a terrifyingly plausible outcome. Perhaps tactical voting could stop it. But would you bet your NHS on it?

If there is a way out, it seems extremely unlikely to come from the Conservatives, who are even now consoling themselves that their worst results ever – and the end of centuries as the main party of the British right – were actually good because they nearly won back control of Wandsworth. Nor does it seem likely to come from a Labour Party currently plotting to change leaders in roughly the way the Three Stooges come up with a plan to get through a door.

As to the media, even if large chunks of it were not licking its lips in anticipation, it’s no longer clear it has the power to shift the narrative. None of the financial scandals – the £5m from a crypto billionaire before Farage’s return to British politics; the endless questions about Richard Tice’s tax affairs – have cut through. Nor has the extensive coverage of Farage’s schoolboy racism. The voters, it seems, don’t care.

There is, though, one threat left that may not be so easily batted away. Reform’s true nemesis may yet turn out to be Reform.

Taking over an English council in 2026 is not, after all, a fun thing to do. Nothing works, everyone is angry and it’s harder to sort the bins than you might think. Worst of all, it turns out that there isn’t a huge pile of money being wasted on rainbow balloons and wokery: it disappears straight into the social care system.

Consider events in England’s largest county council, Kent, where Reform stormed to power last May. Five months later, a video surfaced of a budget meeting on Zoom, in which leader Linden Kemkaran swore at unruly fellow Reform colleagues and told them to “suck it up”. They were, she said, “a bunch of people who unfortunately put their own self-interest before duty and before service”; five were suspended from the party within days.

Such scenes are all but certain to be repeated, with a cast list that makes the Kent lot look positively professional by comparison.

Councillors elected last week included Wakefield’s “Lion of Judah”, who promised to bring “holy fire” down on anyone who gets in his way; an MSP who’s expressed support for Tommy Robinson and deporting all British Muslims; and a guy in Sunderland who, days after being elected, is under investigation for racism and facing suspension from Reform after reportedly saying in 2024 that Nigerians should be “melt[ed] down” to “fill in the pot holes” in a now-deleted social media post.

It’s not all bad news. The Senedd candidate of whom a photo emerged doing what Farage described as a Basil Fawlty impression was deselected; the potential Westminster councillor who fat-shamed nurses and said he wanted to see the NHS “torn down to the ground” lost. But more power means more attention, and it is not clear that those who now hold it will provide a good advert for Reform in office. There’s a very real chance Reform’s success could be self-limiting.

But then again – what if it isn’t? In 2006, the Guardian’s Nick Cohen gleefully noted that Stoke-on-Trent’s first BNP councillor had spoken only twice during two years in office; once was an interruption to ask what “abstain” meant. I’ve consoled myself with that for years, and only just thought to look up what happened next: Stoke elected yet more BNP councillors the following year.

Reform is not the BNP; and perhaps this time will be different. But quite possibly it won’t. And if Nigel Farage does make it to Downing Street, dragging this clown parade in his wake, the fact his popularity peaked in 2025 will be of no comfort whatsoever.

Tottenham’s unlikely hero made up for Mathys Tel’s madness

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

Tottenham Hotspur 1-1 Leeds United (Tel 50′ | Calvert Lewin 74’ pen)

TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR STADIUM – Antonín Kinsky may well have stopped Tottenham Hotspur from facing Lincoln City next season.

Albeit that sentence would have more commitment if it were not for Mathys Tel foolishly kicking Ethan Ampadu in the head, undoing his earlier wondergoal.

Tel controlled a cleared corner on the edge of the penalty area and beautifully threaded his right-footed attempt into the top corner, leaving Karl Darlow helpless as Spurs took the lead. An effortlessly outstanding finish.

Yet just 25 minutes later, after scoring his first goal since January 4, the French attacker attempted to clear Richarlison’s miscued lobbed intervention from a Leeds United free-kick with an overhead kick without checking his surroundings.

Ampadu flew into the penalty area to contest the ball, and Tel’s ridiculously high foot was enough to send referee Jarred Gillett to the monitor to award a penalty.

It was a fatuous decision by Tel. He had no grasp of what was going on around him, no idea that Ampadu was charging into the penalty area.

In a way, Tel’s consequential 25 minutes epitomise his first full season in a Tottenham shirt: glimpses of quality coupled with avoidable errors. Spurs boss Roberto De Zerbi vowed to console Tel with a “big hug and a big kiss” after the 21-year-old’s mistake – which he attributed to inexperience – allowed Leeds back into the game.

De Zerbi refused to say much more about the incident. But Tel was impetuous and cost Spurs two vital points in their hunt for survival, offering West Ham United another chance to climb out of the relegation zone and squandering the opportunity to put daylight between themselves and the bottom three.

Soccer Football - Premier League - Tottenham Hotspur v Leeds United - Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, London, Britain - May 11, 2026 Tottenham Hotspur's Mathys Tel reacts after missing a chance to score REUTERS/Dylan Martinez EDITORIAL USE ONLY. NO USE WITH UNAUTHORIZED AUDIO, VIDEO, DATA, FIXTURE LISTS, CLUB/LEAGUE LOGOS OR 'LIVE' SERVICES. ONLINE IN-MATCH USE LIMITED TO 120 IMAGES, NO VIDEO EMULATION. NO USE IN BETTING, GAMES OR SINGLE CLUB/LEAGUE/PLAYER PUBLICATIONS. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR ACCOUNT REPRESENTATIVE FOR FURTHER DETAILS.. — Tel went from hero to zero (Photo: Reuters)

The value of the point will not be known until the very end of the season – especially with West Ham still to play Leeds –but with Spurs having tougher fixtures, it appears a missed opportunity.

Although it could have been bleaker if it were not for the unlikely hero Kinsky. Two months on from his catastrophic display against Atletico Madrid in the Champions League, the 23-year-old produced one of the saves of the season in stoppage time to ensure Spurs walked away with a point.

Leeds crafted an expansive attack down the right with James Justin finding Sean Longstaff’s well-timed run into the penalty area. Longstaff whacked a left-footed shot goalbound, attempting to smash into the top corner. But an instinctive, rapid reflex save from Kinsky saw him tip it onto the bar and maintain the point. It could prove to be the most definitive moment in Spurs’ season.

Having started all five of De Zerbi’s games in charge since he took the reins in March, Kinsky has admirably put his nightmare in Madrid behind him.

Subbed after two mistakes midway through the first half in Spain, it was a moment capable of destroying the young goalkeeper. Thrust into the global headlines, humiliated and dubbed ‘Slipsky’, it seemed a long way back.

However, he has shown incredible resolve and fortitude to come back and make a material impact on Spurs’ quest for survival. Kinsky had just three saves to make against Leeds, two of which were of the highest quality.

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The final save made the first, which he had to claw from behind him, seem easy. It was far from it as he denied Joe Rodon from a short corner routine.

This was a reminder of Kinsky’s potential, and Spurs will be grateful for the timing. Tel, too. Otherwise, Spurs would have slipped to defeat, with the blame pinned on the young Frenchman, making the wait for West Ham’s game on Sunday feel far gloomier.

Spurs could still end up in the relegation zone before they next kick a ball, with West Ham travelling to Newcastle United on Sunday. But the onus is on the Irons to win, otherwise De Zerbi’s side could retain their Premier League status against bitter rivals Chelsea on Tuesday after this weekend’s FA Cup final.

Netflix has failed to get under Jamie Vardy’s skin

May 12, 2026 by JBMauney

The last decade has rewritten the meaning of an English football hero. Look at the Lionesses, who have won the European title, inspired young girls and boys alike, and transformed women’s sport for future generations by encouraging major investment and mainstream broadcasting.

Or Gareth Southgate’s England squad: a group of clued-up men from diverse backgrounds who advocated for tolerance, supported each other and were vocal about their principles, left their egos and club rivalries off the pitch and shifted the team’s reputation from seedy, flashy and brutish to an inclusive, optimistic representation of modern Britain. These players gave us hope, were ambassadors for the sport, became idols everyone could be proud of.

And then there’s another kind of footballing hero: Jamie Vardy. How would he describe himself in one word? “Twat”.

Jamie Vardy is not like England’s younger role models. He is unapologetically laddy, apologetically lairy, and famous for a training routine that involved downing cans of Red Bull before matches. He didn’t get talent-spotted as a teenager and fast-tracked to the Premier League, didn’t rise the ranks of its training academies – in fact, he got released from his beloved Sheffield Wednesday aged 16 for being too small. He just loved football, kept playing for £30 a week at Stocksbridge Park Steels while working full-time at a local carbon fibre factory, rushing home early from matches before his ankle tag went off at 6pm.

But great sporting heroes don’t always follow the rules, and Vardy became one by accidentally pulling off the unbelievable: his relentless goal-scoring in the lower leagues in his twenties got him noticed, got him an agent, got him signed professionally and he ended up going from non-league football to winning the Premier League with Leicester City in under four years. In 2016, the most incredible victory in the sport’s history coincided with the equally incredible rags-to-riches story of its star player. Leicester was football’s biggest underdog, that win a global sensation, and he its unlikely, 27-year-old hero.

LEICESTER, ENGLAND - MAY 07 : Jamie Vardy of Leicester City lifts the Premier League trophy after the Barclays Premier League match between Leicester City and Everton at the King Power Stadium on May 7, 2016 in Leicester, United Kingdom. (Photo by Plumb Images/Leicester City FC via Getty Images) — With Leicester, Jamie Vardy pulled off the impossible (Photo: Getty)

Vardy’s astonishing rise is the subject of a new Netflix documentary, which charts his life from his childhood in Hillsborough up to his 500th and final game for Leicester last May. It opens with Vardy instructing his interviewer to get him a beer, and to grab “my big wooden cock” (bottle opener) out of the drawer to open it. Bang-on brand Vardy: mischievous, cheeky, and batting off sincerity with a bit of knowing, boyish immaturity.

In the film, Vardy, his teammates, his wife Rebekah and his old friends “the Inbetweeners” take us through how Vardy became a legend in double-speed. The £1m signing from Fleetwood Town, the Skittles vodka, the “chat shit, get banged” mantra, goal after goal after goal. Rebekah explains how he won her round (persistence), how an unplanned pregnancy forced him to get serious and grow up, how he needed to curb his nights out as expectations grew.

Would all the Vardy mythology be as romantic if it weren’t for that Leicester title? It seems unlikely. Reliving the 2015-16 season here, which – as most watching will surely already know – started with 5000-1 odds for a Leicester win, still feels electrifying, and is the highlight this film. I felt the thrill as he beat Ruud van Nistelrooy’s record and scored goals in 11 consecutive games, felt hope rising as the film replayed old commentary from the season from astounded pundits as the chances of a win rose, felt the peril of the obstacles that almost derailed the season.

And there were many: Vardy’s racism row in a casino, which he acknowledges here was a mistake made because of ignorance, not prejudice, and his wife explains, “he said those words because he’s uneducated”. There was the press’s revelation that the father who raised him was not his biological one – he says here he has never met him. And the red card that forced his suspension from critical late matches of that season and left him helpless on the sidelines.

But watching back, you still get the feeling Leicester’s fate was always written. On the 2 May, 2016, the Leicester team gathered in Vardy’s kitchen to watch Chelsea equalise with Tottenham, denying them the points they’d need to knock Leicester off the top spot. That kitchen full of champions descended into jubilant chaos, the country watched on in awe and the city of Leicester changed for ever. I watched the match in a pub round the corner from the King Power stadium and will never forget the sense of electrifying disbelief of everyone on the streets that night and in the weeks that came after. It wasn’t about the title, really. It was the childlike, wondrous feeling that impossible things really can happen, and had happened here.

Soccer Football - Premier League - Leicester City v Ipswich Town - King Power Stadium, Leicester, Britain - May 18, 2025 Leicester City's Jamie Vardy celebrates scoring their first goal Action Images via Reuters/Craig Brough EDITORIAL USE ONLY. NO USE WITH UNAUTHORIZED AUDIO, VIDEO, DATA, FIXTURE LISTS, CLUB/LEAGUE LOGOS OR 'LIVE' SERVICES. ONLINE IN-MATCH USE LIMITED TO 120 IMAGES, NO VIDEO EMULATION. NO USE IN BETTING, GAMES OR SINGLE CLUB/LEAGUE/PLAYER PUBLICATIONS. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR ACCOUNT REPRESENTATIVE FOR FURTHER DETAILS.. — Vardy scored in his last-ever match for Leicester in 2025 (Photo: Craig Brough/Reuters)

10 years later and Vardy seems as bemused about it as anybody. He retells the story with pride, but is reluctant to get too introspective about the strange trajectory of his life, or to get emotional about the magnitude of what he achieved. Certainly, he doesn’t celebrate his influence – he would much rather just keep scoring goals (he now plays for Serie A club Cremonese).

Which is a shame. We don’t really get to know him any better because this film resists exploring everything that happened after and just how far his influence reached. How that fairy-tale win allowed people to believe in miracles, and how he proved that it can happen to anyone.

Vardy may well be a normal guy – a bit ridiculous, a bit simple, enjoyably enigmatic – and may not be desperate to unearth untold hidden depths. And he may not be desperate, like those other, younger heroes, to bear the responsibility of his sport and its future. But on how he became one of the key players in its history, there is much more still to say.

‘Untold UK: Jamie Vardy’ is streaming on Netflix

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