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Whenever I utter that oft-repeated declaration — “We can’t afford it” — one or both of our kids will invariably respond, “You can afford it, you just choose not to!”

That observation is not necessarily incorrect. Technically, I could buy each of them an iPhone 14 Pro Max, or whatever it is they’re nagging about this week. Technically, I could buy a 2020 Tesla Model 3, Audi e-tron or 5 Series BMW outright.

But that’s not really what I mean by, “We can’t afford it.” For while we could easily splash cash on every luxury that takes our fancy, what weighs on me is the long view: the likely cost of things in the future. Or the cost of the unexpected: emergency repairs, illness, redundancy.

If our children choose to go to university, they will need support with subsistence. When they feel the need to leave the family home, they will inevitably need help putting down a deposit for a house. As for getting married: I doubt they will be satisfied with a shoestring wedding like mum and dad.

What is difficult for our kids to understand is that it is as a result of moderately frugal living that we have been able to create some stability in our lives. While the average UK household apparently finds itself with over £15,000 of unsecured debt from credit cards, loans and overdrafts, on top of mortgages and car finance, that is not our reality.

Notions of wealth are relative. If we lived in a nice big house in Beaconsfield or Hazelmere, we would be considered very wealthy by all who knew us. However, the opposite would be true, for we would be living well beyond our means, paying off a gargantuan mortgage, while struggling to make ends meet.

Conversely, by choosing to live in a little house in the poorer part of a poorer town, all who encounter us seem to conclude that we’re terribly poor and without means. Whereas, in truth, we find ourselves living a comfortable debt-free existence in one of the most beautiful parts of the country, despite a single, modest public service salary. Ahamdulilah!

How is that possible? Enter that rejoinder again: “We can’t afford it.” We can’t afford to live in debt. We can’t afford to live beyond our means. We can’t afford monthly subscriptions. We can’t afford a credit card or overdraft. We can’t afford to squander wealth on all the trapping that tell others how very wealthy we are.

Perhaps when the kids have made it through education and have settled into their own independent lives, I will treat myself to the roadster of my dreams. Though probably not. A tractor, maybe. What we often forget is that the wealth we are given is not really ours: it is our rizq, gifted by God, and we will be asked about how we gained and utilised it.

I suppose that’s really what I mean when I say, “We can’t afford it.”