Earlier this week, I had dinner with a lovely young woman. Let's call her Miranda. She had read some of the many columns in which I have pointed out that saving is a good idea, although she had misinterpreted the message as "Stop buying shoes; start saving".

The message, of course, is "Buy fewer shoes; start saving". It is particularly appropriate in Miranda's case, since she apparently has 200 pairs of shoes and, I would guess, not much in the way of savings. Being beautiful, of course, she won't need savings if she's prepared to hand herself over to some old coot and let him buy her all the shoes in the store. Then she can save all her money, which she would need for self-respect training after she submits to the whims of the disgusting old geezer.

Two hundred pairs of shoes, but only one pair of feet. I was rather at a loss for words, more so when Miranda explained about an $850 pair of pumps she had her eye on. They're by Givenchy. I said nothing, being the soul of discretion and all that, but in retrospect I should have suggested she buy a $10 pair of sneakers, splash some Givenchy perfume on them and bank $840 for her old age. That would have gone down well.

More seriously, Miranda asked why she should be concerned with her old age when she is so obviously enjoying her youth and, for that matter, her feet. Live for today, appeared to be her motto (I don't mean any of this to belittle Miranda; I had more fun at that dinner than I've had since Roosevelt was President. Teddy Roosevelt).

The young woman raised a valid point, one to which the only answer I have would seem remote to her. The best time to start a saving programme is when the bloom of youth remains fresh upon your face. Yet that's the very time when old age seems unlikely, or at least so far away that thinking about it is sort of ridiculous.

I am a proponent in these pages of the golden Middle Path. This is a philosophy that suggests moderation in all things. I don't always live up to it, you understand, but we should all try. Having 200 pairs of shoes is as absurd as me having 1,000 CDs, which I do. But I don't have 10,000 CDs, or 100,000, even though I would dearly, dearly like to. I always felt that a few CDs a week and some saving was a better long-term strategy than 100 CDs a week and no money for my old age. My old age is now approaching, or has arrived, and I can tell you and Miranda that I'm now very glad I don't have 100,000 CDs.

Ah, youth.

On that very subject, not much blows my socks off these days, in part because I tend not to wear socks. But an article I read recently in The New Yorker ("Don't!" by Jonathan Lehrer, May 18, 2009) simply floored me. I'd reprint it here and take the rest of the day off, but it's too long and my editor seems to think I should do the work I'm paid for. So I'll summarise.

Whatever its methods or goals, saving money is about delaying gratification. Instead of buying an $850 pair of shoes today, one saves to be able to buy a sandwich when one is old. Savers understand this and so, it seems do spenders. The latter group of people - let's leave Miranda out of this - resents the idea of deferring pleasure and takes a sort of childish glee in refusing to look to the future. Some of them buy shoes they don't need, just to show the world how little they care for doing what they know to be the right thing.

No moral judgement here; as a smoker, I'm spending the days left to me at a faster rate than is necessary. I do so despite all the evidence that such behaviour is idiotic. Luckily, I'm not going to die, so that's OK.

The New Yorker article referred to a controlled test carried out in the late 1960s. Children were sat down in front of a tray of treats. They could have one treat immediately, or two if they waited for the researcher conducting the experiment to leave the room and return a few minutes later.

Most kids agreed to wait, but within three minutes, had succumbed to impatience and eaten one, two or all the treats in front of them. Only about 30 percent of the children waited until the researcher returned.

Some years later, almost by accident, the researcher contacted the children, by then in high school.

Those who, as children, couldn't wait, turned out to be much likelier to have behavioural problems, both in school and at home.

"They got lower SAT scores. They struggled in stressful situations, often had trouble paying attention, and found it difficult to maintain relationships," the article reported.

"The child who was able to wait as long as 15 minutes for the researcher's return "had an SAT score that was, on average, 210 points higher than that of the kid who could wait only 30 seconds".

In other words, it seems disciplined people are brighter, and do better, than less disciplined people.

When I first read the article, I took it to mean that most people should learn some discipline.

Now, a week later, I have a different view.

I think that it means that parents should make a special effort to teach their children discipline if they want the kids to amount to anything.

If you're an undisciplined adult, it's probably too late.

This is serious vindication for me, and all those like me, who were taught discipline as kids. I have taken a lifetime of unending abuse from "free spirits", who have uniformly argued that I'm too repressed. Every one of my critics in this regard has been less than averagely successful in their adult lives.

What I had been taking as a valid criticism of my straight-laced personality is, in fact, nonsense - simply the result of poor parenting and weak character.

Also at the dinner with Miranda were British publishers Caroline and John Eddington of Newton, which publishes a range of Bermuda-related material. John told me of a not-especially-rich fellow he knows who had established a £10,000 ($16,500) savings account and then forgotten about it, until the bank reminded him years later. It's the same thing from another angle: a lack of discipline.

So, to all those, like Miranda, who would give me a hard time for preaching a spot of fiscal discipline, I say: time for a rethink. Perhaps what I've been saying all along does represent a better model.

If I were prone to smugness, I'd be feeling pretty darned smug right about now.

Listen up. A little discipline would go a long way to making many of you, and certainly your children, better people. Now's the time to start.