W hether it's for my house, my car or my general health, everyone wants to flog me insurance at present. The postman shoves wads of insurance offers through my letterbox. It's a good job he arrives by van a la Postman Pat. He'd never manage all that junk mail if he had to slog around the village with a bag over his shoulder.

But it's not just him and his little red van bringing half the ruddy rainforest to my door; the self-same offers – plus market comparison sites – are offered via the internet and television.

Even before my car insurance is due for renewal with the local broker I'm getting offers to renew at guaranteed knock-down prices.

If it's not insurance, it's savings. My money can earn from one to three per cent if I leave it in the bank long enough – that's if I had any money.

The indoctrination isn't working on me; I think I'd sooner spend the money on a local trip. I hear there's a very good tour of a cider farm near Cheddar, or I could just wander around Wells and splash out on a cream tea and watch the world go by.

I don't want my money sitting in a bank for years; for a start, I might not get it back. I'm getting older and the bank is strapped for cash. Which really is the whole point of masses and masses of insurance advertising plopping through my letter box.

For a great deal of the time, insurance is about paying them, not them paying you. Understandable in the present climate when the bank's coffers are groaning under Government IOU'S rather than being full of money!

There are no more advertisements from Carol Vorderman and the like, extolling the virtues of borrowing to over 25 per cent of the value of your property. No shining white yachts sailing on crystal blue seas urging you to contact this number immediately.

Basically, there are few companies out there offering you money at all; they're after yours. Pure and simple.

The goalposts of borrowing having been moved it makes sense to save – though I'm not talking shoving the money in the bank. I'm talking about saving money on a day to day basis.

As a wise man once said: "It's not what you earn, it's what you hold on to."

So those of you with delightful gardens that wouldn't look amiss attached to a stately home should forego the flowers, dig up the daffodils and plant onions and potatoes, cabbages, leeks and lettuce.

How about bartering? Dig for victory and someone, somewhere will be interested in doing a swap. Pints in pubs are ideal. Pubs who do food will gladly buy yours.

I have to admit to not having much of a garden. All it grows are brambles and plums and flowers bordering the edge of a gravel courtyard.

There were loads of plums this year and I could have bartered them for something I suppose, but what?

A pint of beer was out of the question. I don't drink beer and I would have had to save up a whole tree full of plums to pay for a bottle of wine.

I would have preferred exchanging the plums for a new pair of tights in M&S but I don't think they would be willing to take part in my swap scheme.

Apparently there is also a service aspect to bartering; you do something for me and I'll do something for you. Now doesn't that open up a wealth of possibilities!

I could give talks! I'm pretty good at talking about a lot of things. Or how about giving people lifts or doing their shopping for them?

Leaving redecorating for six years instead of three should be quite a popular money saving caper – it is in this house. I know someone staying in a hotel who had only had one drink and thought the walls were moving. It turned out that the owners had nailed sheets of ply to the crumbling walls. Each time the door opened the draught got behind it and the wall moved. Different to having the earth move.