The Little Things

Sometimes the smallest purchases make the biggest difference. In a world obsessed with big upgrades and expensive solutions, it’s often the cheap, cheerful items that quietly transform everyday life. From clever kitchen tools to simple organisational hacks, low-cost finds can save time, reduce stress, and add a surprising touch of joy to routine tasks.

This piece celebrates my unsung heroes — budget-friendly buys that punched well above their price tag. Whether you’re looking to streamline your mornings or make life a little smoother, you might be surprised how far a few pounds can go – all without breaking sweat or the bank.

The marketing department used to tell of the Fifty Pounds Man, a customer who is willing and able to spend about fifty quid on a product or service, to give it a try without worrying too much about the outcome. Not mean but careful, I was more of a 50p Man, until I wasn’t.

Besides reviewing panel shows and telling tall tales of derring-do, too much of my life used to revolve around the staircase landing. Not because Mrs AWS had put me out of our bedroom again, but because of a curtain rail.

The runner wouldn’t clip onto its holder, so had to be balanced on top. This took some doing as it was unevenly weighted by the attached curtain and, although not an expert on the mathematics of such things, one assumes its centre of gravity shifted as the curtain moved. Plus, when it fell off, all the hooks came out. And it fell off every time anyone walked past or, one suspects, even thought of doing so.

Due to that most powerful of forces that is inertia, this went on for years before I suddenly thought, ‘Why not fix it?’ As every Puffin knows, a curtain rail is a curtain rail, and the bit that attaches it to the wall is neither more nor less than the bit that attaches it to the wall. Simples. Or rather it isn’t – there being a million and one different fittings within a puzzling array of hanging-the-curtains solutions.

Having surrendered once more to inertia, I addressed the issue again some time later, and, as is often the case, noticed something missed the first time around. Tiny Rosetta Stone-like lettering unlocked the code and allowed me to purchase the one piece I need, albeit as part of a pack of a hundred – another ruse from the marketing department. Problem solved.

Moving on, I’m one of those irritating people who thinks they can fix things. Some of which I’ve repaired, others of which I’ve destroyed. On the silver cloud attached to every cloud side of things, we wouldn’t have that trendy fire pit in the back garden if I hadn’t wrecked the tumble dryer.

Another notable and more conventional success (fingers crossed) is the washing machine, a model which is easy to take apart, but not so easy to get back together again. I managed to replace the worn-down motor brushes, but struggled with another parts swap revolving around a spring clip. What is a spring clip I hear the uninitiated ask. It is an expandable clip that attaches a rubber hose to something more solid and tightly enough to avoid leakage. The problem lies with the new-fangled idea that everything must be done on the cheap.

Back in the day, a hose grip was wound into a secondary loop, allowing a thin screw and a square nut to tighten and slacken the clip. These days, it’s too often a single circle with the ends protruding at right angles, allowing the clip to be opened by compressing the ends.

The problem being it can be too difficult to do. Even with strong fingers, performing the manoeuvre in cramped compartments (another money saver) makes it difficult. Plus, my pliers aren’t wide enough to substitute for my weakling’s finger tips.

Some old-time precision hose grips lived in my father’s toolbox, but I’ve used them all up. This was also my grandfather’s toolbox, packed with made-to-last bits and pieces from aeons ago. Yes, in our house, washing machines and dishwashers are held together with materiel sourced in a previous century from a stall in our modest Debatable Lands market town, no doubt sited between the bear baiting and a cock fight.

After a century or so, they did need liberal amounts of WD-40, but running out of them, and an inability to use their inferior successors properly, can flood a room.

Not to worry, I got these. They cost pounds rather than pennies, but do the job and avoid a deluge. The arms ratchet wider than granddad’s Genuine Walworth, and one of the tips is end-of-clip shaped and rotates.

Back in my and Mrs AWS’s bedroom, what better way to end the day than by reading a good book? This time, the problem was an old-fashioned bulb and lampshade standing on my bedside table. It was dim to start with and, abetted by my bad eyesight, had to be laid on its side (while rolling about) and pointed at the text. The solution? Why not buy a light with a bendable directional stalk? Why not indeed. Took a few years before the penny dropped, but I eventually took the plunge and was so happy with it, I bought another for the office.

Remember, like yourself, I agonise over spending these small sums not because I’m mean, but because I’m careful.

An honorary mention must go to the mirror in the loft. A gentleman needs to know what’s happening around the back of his model railway – especially if his track-laying ability doesn’t quite stretch as far as flat, straight and properly connected to the next bit.

This cost nothing as my sister-in-law took pity on me, but I did invest in a clip and clamp to keep it at the right angle for this amateur yard master. Unfortunately, it just fell out, so I attacked it with masking tape. Not a success, I achieved little more than wrapping myself up in the silver sticky stuff as if a giant spider’s attic victim. Not to worry, as well as clasping something, it can prop something up.

There are more, but not cheap. For instance, the battery-operated lawn mower (and extra battery) and the life-changing reversing cameras and radar on the car.

Speaking of the car brings me to an invention of my own. Despite the vast amount of money I spent on it, the AWSmobile still gets covered in ice in the cold weather. Getting it to clear itself via the app is beyond my technical ability, while scraping the whole windscreen with my debit card is a pain. Freeing one little oblong, as if a tank commander, turns out to be against all kinds of laws.

I don’t like putting a sheet across as I have to bend the windscreen wipers and/or break the seal between the male menopause sports trim interior and the big, bad (and cold) outside world by jamming the material between the doors and the door frame. Therefore, I invented this (currently only available in racing silver):

What are some cheap little spends, or inventions, that make your life easier? Drop your best tips, hacks, or small upgrades below the line — extra house points if they cost next to nothing.
 

© Always Worth Saying 2026