A friend left a voice message for me last week. She said, as the financial meltdown continued all around us: "I just want to you to know how glad I am that we took those cruises, that we bought all those books and that, generally, we didn't go along with your repeated insistence that we save money all the time." I was alarmed by the call, just a little. For one thing, what she had not said was " ... now that the world is coming to an end and money is worthless", but she implied something along those lines.

Her argument (espoused by many people, often to my face) is that saving is a pointless exercise because every now and then, the value of investments goes down and one suffers, financially.

I'd like to set the record straight. Although I am delighted to be accused of giving consistently prudent advice, I do understand that people are a little scared right now. Being available for a dressing-down is all part of the service.

I'll start by pointing out why worry is waste of effort, then move onto restate my philosophy, since apparently it is not being received as intended in some quarters.

If you can't be bothered to read the rest of this, here it is in summary form. Which is better? To have some savings that one day are worth less than they were, or to have nothing at all?

Down, as well as up

Let me start by declaring an interest. If I were a public company, my financial statements this year would read like a horror story. One way and another, my net worth is down by 20 percent, because I have made what would be considered (in public company terms) a badly-timed investment in real estate, awful decisions on currencies, and appalling investments in stocks.

That's why I don't give advice. If you did as I do, you too would be looking at the down curve. But I'm not worried, and nor should you or my friend be. She has a job, as does her husband. Their house is paid for. They have a son who is the epitome of common sense, approximately. They have apparently taken cruises and bought a lot of books and generally enjoyed their lives.

One day, when they are of pensionable age, the Bermuda Government will send them cheques and their son will buy them Christmas presents and they will remain among the world's most privileged human beings. If this couple is nearing 65 (it's not polite to ask), they should not have much, if anything, invested in shares or anything other than fixed-income securities, i.e. bonds, which have fared reasonably well through the past couple of years. The crisis should not be affecting this couple too badly.

In short, instead of phoning me up to rub my nose in it, they should be dancing naked in the fields, for theirs, like mine, have been lives of splendour unequalled in the history of the planet.

The philosophy

I have never suggested that people not take cruises. I would never suggest that you don't buy books; in fact, I'd be personally delighted if you bought an extra ten books a week and read them instead of watching TV. I don't propose that you stop buying clothes, even if your wardrobe overfloweth. I don't recommend that you eat your children to save on the grocery bill.

What all we financial geeks propose is simple enough: spend like a drunken sailor, by all means, but try to have something left over at the end of each pay period, so that you can look forward to a brighter future. One fewer cruise, maybe. One fewer dress if you already have a dozen that you never wear. The point here isn't to stop you having fun; it's to allow you to have yet more fun later in life when the paycheques stop and financial crises rattle the doorframes.

I don't want you to be miserable. Lord Knows, my mission is to cheer you up. Regular savings make you deeply happy, believe me, and better equipped to cope with life at times of catastrophe.

That's the driving force behind a savings programme: to provide a cushion against the limitless number of things that can go wrong in your personal life and stop you earning or require you to sign a massive cheque, and the equally large number of problems that the global financial system can experience that can biff you on the head when you least expect it.

Many crises abate within six months. That's why it's nice to have cash in the bank equal to six months' income. Some bargains last only for a limited time and don't allow you to save up for them. Being able to buy from savings (and then refill the savings account later) will make you feel really good about yourself.

I'm all about the love, people, and just trying to help you get through life with less of a frown on your face.

Au revoir

I write this a week ahead of its publication, since my brother is dragging me to France for a few days' rest and relaxation in the middle of nowhere. I expect we'll be dancing naked in the fields. God, how awful.

If it should turn out that the world has ended by the time you read this newspaper, and Satan has appeared to direct all savers downstairs, while the profligate, cruisers and other less-do-wells are ascending the silver staircase, that'll be my bad luck. It's not going to have happened, though, because, like it or not, the world keeps turning, no matter how bleak things may seem. What this page offers you, week in and week out, is good advice so that when the storm strikes, you can stay warm and dry.

The bad news, and boy do I know this from personal experience, is that you're going to get old and become even more feeble than you already are. You're not going to be able to earn $10,000 a week once your hair turns grey, or even $1,000, because younger people will come along and push you out of the way. That is as it should be. And when you're old, that's when you're going to want to go cruising, to get away from it all.

If you've been sensible with your money, you'll be able to do that, regardless of global conditions.

Please don't shoot the messenger, although you should feel free to leave irate rants on his voice mail, or e-mail him with personal abuse (crombie@northrock.bm). Operators are standing by.