What credit crunch?

The global economy is the Cookie Monster’s biscuit and the world now suffers his every crunch. We’re all feeling it, aren’t we?

According to friends and family we definitely are. Purse strings have been tightened, planned holidays have been cancelled – with cancellation fees humbly accepted, as we mutter “for the greater good” – and figures show that one in three of us have, either personally or by association, been affected by redundancy. This Crunch is huge. It’s big and nasty. So how come my employers (and their Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea-friends) are still spending large?

For the month of January I’ve been live-in babysitting for my Aussie family of five. Well, just Master 9 and Miss 6 actually, while their parents take the eldest, Master 12, off to Australia to settle him into boarding school. I’ve been left as sole carer of their youngsters, with full use of their Holland Park abode, their cars (a Golf and Mercedes) and more importantly, their cleaner!

The Help, a softly spoken Spanish girl – probably no older than me – visits Monday through Saturday, to scrub the kitchen and bathrooms, dust the shelves and do the washing and ironing… she even irons our socks! So comfortable with hired-hands, my little cherubs apply the use-and-dump method to not only their toys but also their attire. Master 9 and Miss 6 happily change outfits two to three times a day and when they do de-robe, simply walk out of their clothes like they were the Emperor of some far flung land. Heads held high.

Having been raised by a no-nonsense Eastern European mother, the concept of picking up my own things is fiercely engrained. I struggle with the complacency of my charges as I earnestly try to reason with the unreasonable. The only lessons they learn are the lessons they lose from: if they don’t do X when asked they don’t get Y (something they’re looking forward to). I take Supernanny’s advice and offer up three warnings, explaining each time – at eye level and with a firm tone – what exactly it is about their behaviour I’m finding so unacceptable but nine times out of ten they lose Y.

As there is so little these kids are actually expected to do I’m making it my mission over the next three weeks that they’ll at least learn to put their dirty clothes in a laundry basket (there are, in fact, six strewn around the house). I’m hopeful; after all, it’s only taken a week to get Miss 6 to master the application of her own toothpaste to toothbrush.

However manipulative the kidlets are – and they are – blame cannot be laid squarely on their shoulders. The world they are growing up in is luxury in the extreme. The children they attend school with include the sons and daughters of lords and ladies, politicians, actors and models. They are chauffeured round London by drivers named Eddie or Ahmed and their meals are cooked by the nanny or house keeper or delivered direct from Wholefoods and Ottolenghi. They are indulged, and continue to be indulged while the rest of the world tightens their belts.

And while I benefit from their good graces and generosity, I can’t help but think that it would be good for their kids to see every now and then how the other half live… but likely they’ll inherit the good fortunes of their forefathers and never want for anything. Sadly, that’s generally how the cookie crumbles.