I was all over the shop

I spent my cash on bags, shoes and clothes. I’m a shopaholic but I’ve come ‘clean’ now, swears Katy Harrington

I ONLY look at my bank-account balance at the end of the month, when, about to indulge myself with a new purchase, the ATM refuses to make a delightful whirring sound (the ‘I’m getting your cash for you right this second’ one). It spits my card back, with no lolly. This prompts a panicked internet-banking check to confirm my suspicions … I’ve run out of money, again. After a little self-flagellation and a few days of baked-bean-eating frugality, I’m back to my profligate ways.

Last month, something changed. The ATM refused to play ball two weeks before pay-day and that forced me to look at my spending. I don’t live in a flashy apartment; I don’t eat out much; I don’t take lavish holidays, and I don’t have a gambling problem — so where was my cash? My overflowing wardrobe provided the answer — I was a shopaholic.