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WELCOME TO HOW I Spend My Money, a series on The Journal that looks at how people in Ireland really handle their finances.
We’re asking readers to keep a record of how much they earn, what they save if anything, and what they’re spending their money on over the course of one week.
Are you a spender, a saver or a splurger? We’re looking for readers who will keep a money diary for a week. If you’re interested send a mail to money@thejournal.ie. We would love to hear from you.
Each money diary is submitted by readers just like you. When reading and commenting, bear in mind that their situation will not be relatable for everyone, it is simply an account of a week in their shoes, so let’s be kind.
Last time around, we heard from a tax accountant on €100K living in Wicklow. This week a PhD researcher living on a €22K stipend in Dublin.
I am a PhD researcher at a university in Dublin, carrying a non-EU passport, but having lived and worked in many other countries previously. It is frustrating to find myself, as a 39-year-old woman, living with two other housemates, given Dublin’s housing crisis – something that nobody fathoms before moving to Ireland. But I love the city; much of its fissures and fractures are similar to other postcolonial countries. But I wish living here was not so expensive.
I had not found an accommodation until 36 hours before my cross-continental flight to Ireland in December 2021. It was a red flag that I should have paid heed to. I had signed on a contract of an annual tax-free stiped of €16,500. Little did I know that that amount would leave me with no savings at the end of each month; this is not something we are aware of before heading to the land of céad míle fáilte.
After much campaigning within our universities and the Ministry of Higher Education, our stipend was raised twice, and my stipend is currently at €22,000 – it’s still below minimum wage. This means I have €1,833 each month to live and love, eat and heal, rest and resist. After much existential angst in questioning the purpose of finding myself so poor for the first time in my life, the changing hues of blue and green during my regular trips to Howth provide me with fistful of satiating answer.
It’s not easy at all, even though I don’t have children or even a dog. I don’t have a spouse. I wonder if it’s worse that my precarity does not allow me to even dream of the possibility of having children; or to be like my PhD peers, whose educated spouses have lost their careers after moving to Ireland because spouses of PhD researchers are not permitted to work full-time in Ireland – bedlam like this is unlike any place else in the EU.
My father’s bedtime stories to me – since the time I was six – were about different animals going into our local bank to open a savings account, and learning how to save, and later create a fixed deposit. I am now that feral cougar, gamifying my savings plan, while living on €1,833 each month. I hate shopping, I love painting, I hate meal-planning, I love eating; I live with seasonal depression and ADHD, I eat based on my moods; I enjoy my wine, I hate that wine is so expensive in Dublin.
Occupation: PhD researcher
Age: 39
Location: Dublin
Salary: €22,000
Monthly pay (net): €1,833
Rent: €600 (this includes the utilities)
Medical insurance: €45 (as a foreigner living in Ireland, I must have an Irish Resident Permit (IRP). It requires an annual renewal that costs a whopping €300 – which is thankfully covered by my university – but one of the key documents towards applying for the IRP is private medical insurance, whose premium has been increasing every year. My premium is higher than that of my male peers: ah, the price of being a woman!)
Transport: €70 (I either work from home, or mostly walk to my university campus)
Phone bill: €20
Therapy: €280
Groceries: €175 (a mix of SuperValu and Lidl)
Meals out: €200 (mostly at my university)
Coffee: €60 (mostly at my university)
Gym membership: €50 (so grateful for the pilates classes at the Dublin City Council gym in my neighbourhood)
***
8.00 am: Wake up, check my phone for 30 minutes (“The world is still a dumpster fire with cute dog videos”) and then rush to shower. I definitely need to wash my hair as it smells. I have to look presentable for a session I am chairing at an event in Dublin city centre.
9.20 am: The bus arrives just as I exit from the door; so blessed that the bus stop is on my doorstep. Head to the city centre while munching on an energy bar so I can pop my ADHD pill.
10.10 am: Arrive in the city centre and run for five minutes to reach the venue; there is coffee! Hallelujah!
1.00 pm: I wasn’t expecting lunch to be served at the venue, so the free dehydrated sandwiches look delicious. I was looking through my phone during some of the sessions for lunch options, so this was a good save.
2.30 pm: Skip the sessions and head to EuroGiant nearby to buy another ball of black wool, to complete the crochet winter hat (€2). Spend too much time while resisting buying more art supplies. I then head to Penneys and buy a flannel shirt (€15). I wait at Burger King on O’Connell Street for my friend to arrive from Belfast.
6.00 pm: My friend and I head to Tula in Temple Bar area to treat her to a burrito dinner. She is trying out different versions of ‘Asian food’ while being a tourist in Manchester and then Belfast. I am still full, so settle for chips and guacamole (€13.95).
8.30 pm: After making our way through Temple Bar, where my friend is enthralled by the vibes of the crowded bar (neither of us is in the mood for a pint), I begin to head home – but not before a trip to Tesco to grab some raspberries and onions (€5.15). I head home tired.
Today’s total: €36.10
9.00 am: Wake up; spend an hour browsing my phone while trying not to beat myself up for not having prepared overnight oats with the raspberries I bought the previous night.
10.30 am: Jump out of bed, have a shower, chew on another energy bar to be able to pop my ADHD pills, wear proper clothes and head to the university campus by bus. Too tired to walk.
12.00 pm: Head to the student centre to get a new Leap card as the previous one had expired (€30).
2.00 pm: Off for lunch with a colleague, and I choose pasta (€6.05). I say yes to the garlic bread that was offered, only to later realise that it costs €1.05! Too expensive, too unnecessary with all the pasta carbs.
6.00 pm: Work until this far while trying not to get distracted by incoming emails. Coding data is only fun with headphones and DnB. Tune into a Zoom call for 90 minutes.
8.15 pm: Realise that SuperValu next to my home will close at 9 pm and I have to get cleaning supplies for the house as it’s my turn. Get the bus and manage to grab toilet cleaner, dishwashing liquid and toilet paper (€3.37).
9.15 pm: Walk home; cook some pasta that I had purchased in Italy during a conference trip last year (I had been rationing it because it was made of organic wheat). Have it with some store-bought pesto and eat it with Netflix turned on and in bed. All plans to work a bit more go for a toss because it’s tough to turn off Netflix.
11.00 pm: It’s time for bedtime reverse procrastination and I spend an hour on the phone; tomorrow I will do better.
Today’s total: €39.42
4.00 am: I am awakened when my housemate shuts the door on his way out to work. I cannot fall back asleep till 5.30am. I send an audio message to my friend that, sorry, she should head to Howth on her own, and that I will see her there at 11am.
9.30 am: I wake up when the alarm goes off (the one I set at 5am) and scrub myself. Wear some clothes that were lying around and make my way towards Tara Street.
10.30 am: The tiny shop attached to Tara Street station is closed, and so I head to the Fresh grocery store next door. I am pleased to find a coffee and pastry combo. (€5)
11.15 am: I meet my friend at Insomnia Café in Howth; she’s down from a hike up the cliffs on this sunny day. I am glad that she met a French woman along the way, and together – we women from different parts of the world – discuss perimenopause. This will be my second and last coffee for the day (€3.40)
2.00 pm: I meet my therapist whose clinic is in Howth, overlooking the sea. My therapist has been the safe space for me, during many turbulent times of academic life in Ireland. It’s a steep fee, but it’s somatic therapy and I know this is an investment in myself. Fewer tears shed today than usual (€140). I take a stroll along the pier – a post-therapy ritual.
4.30 pm: On the train back to the city centre, I weigh in my options for food. I decide to head to Xi’an Street Food on North Earl Street and order the one dish that I have ever eaten: Biang Biang noodles (€14.80). The food arrives, and I send a photo of the dish to my brother, telling him I miss him. He sends back a load of emojis.
5.30 pm: I head to the Spar on Dame Street to sit and read for an hour while listening to Sunshine 104FM blaring above my head. The security guard walks up to me: will he shoo me out because I did not buy anything while trying to read? He instead asks me if I knew more about Stamp 1 visa after higher education in Ireland, and I tell him that the rules don’t seem to be very clear. We both shrug at the lack of transparency on Irish government websites, but we fist-bump as I leave. There is something about seeing another non-white person in a public space that makes those of us not-from-here to walk up to each other and speak. Is it common? I don’t know; it’s happened too often, and I love it.
7.20 pm: I head to Smock Alley Theatre where a friend has secured a ticket for me for a horror-themed series of plays. I love the first few plays, and grab a glass of wine at interval. The price is not written on their wall, so I gulp when I am asked to pay €8.50. I look around and I walk up to one woman to tell her that I loved her performance, but she tells me that it wasn’t her; she does acknowledge her resemblance with the actor onstage. The man she is standing with looks down at my feet and makes me feel very conscious of the fact that there is a tiny tear on my runners. I walk to a corner and stand and watch the group of white folks talk and laugh among themselves; thank heavens for one man, who turns out to be American, to come up and talk to me.
8.30 pm: I leave the theatre in the darkness when they are changing scenes: this last play made no sense at all! I wasn’t the first to leave though. My bus arrives as soon as I step out, and I wonder about two things: (a) I wish I had the confidence of the young lad with earrings and black lipstick as he carried a tattered bag with shoelaces on them, and (b) I should buy new shoes. Theatre spaces claim to be all-cool and all-welcoming, but in reality, I must beware of all enterprises that require new clothes (or shoes).
9.30 pm: Get into pyjamas and watch Netflix angrily and doze off around midnight.
Today’s total: €171.70
10.00 am: I had not set an alarm because I wanted to catch up on sleep, and so I find myself waking up at 10 am. I feel rested but my mood is very low.
11.00 am: I make some breakfast oats with the raspberries (before they go bad). This allows me to pop my ADHD pill, and I wonder if the pills are actually working because I continue to feel so stuck in the mornings, and when I am brimming with ideas in the evenings, I am too tired. I decide to stay at home and work from bed.
4.00 pm: I have managed some work, and my mood is better, from having allowed myself some grace by not exposing myself to more stressors: the indecisions of what to wear, people on campus, traffic and worry about the party later at night. I make myself a cup of instant coffee at home.
7.00 pm: I begin to get ready for the graduation party of a colleague who recently completed their PhD. My mood is upbeat now, and I turn on the music after showering, and as I get dressed. It’s a summer dress before it goes into a box for the winter; I look up Instagram to fashion a shrug from a scarf.
8.00 pm: Head to the party at a pub in Dublin South; happy to meet and mingle with colleagues outside the university. Buy a pint of Orchard Thieves for myself, and a strawberry daiquiri for the friend who hardly ever steps out owing to being a single mum to her toddler (€20.90).
10:30 pm: Head homeward from the pub, and feel I should wear more dresses, as long as they have pockets.
Today’s total spend: €20.90
9.00 am: I wake up with the alarm, as I want to head to the Pilates class at 10 am. I scramble my things together and walk fast, to reach the 10 am class.
11.00 am: Shower at the gym; it’s a much better experience to shower anywhere other than at my home where the shower is from another century and the flow of water is terrible; notwithstanding the cramped space for showering. Showing up for pilates is a good excuse to actually take a proper shower. Head to campus thereafter.
12.00 pm: I arrive at the university and the photos my mother sent, from the cremation of a beloved aunty, who passed away on Monday, finally hits me. I sit under a grove of trees on campus and cry. A lot. Another death, another loss, another older gone. My heart cannot accommodate any more grief, even though I had thought I had run out of tears. A man walks past, and asks me if I am alright, and I tell him about this loss. I am deeply touched that he checks in on me; it’s awfully lonely to be so far away from home, when my other European colleagues and professors can hop in and out of home every other month.
1.00 pm: Grab a coffee at the university. With my reusable cup (which has travelled with me since January 2020), the coffee on campus now costs €2.70 (it used to be €2.25 in 2022). I also grab lunch (€7.45), whose price has also gone up since I first arrived here.
1:30 pm: Today is the day I must finish the coding, even though I feel immensely low. The next few hours are a blur of responding to emails, chatting with some colleagues, attending an online webinar, and eating an orange a colleague gave me.
6.00 pm: I make myself a weak cup of instant coffee to keep myself going and some chocolate that was gifted to me month ago, by colleagues returning from conferences in exotic places.
9:40 pm: I pack my bags to take the bus home. I am very tired from all the crying and sleep earlier than usual; but not before stumbling upon an old photo with three people I have loved, including this aunty who passed away earlier in the week. The photo, of a joyful time from just a few years ago, is not a specimen of three deaths. I feel hopeless and lost.
Today’s total spend: €10.15
8:30 am: I wake up suddenly and feel that it does not make sense to lie in bed when there is so much pending work. So I head to the campus, while knowing that I have a Zoom call at 10:30 am.
10:15 am: I reach campus, but all shops are closed, except for Londis. I grab a sandwich and sambo (€7.70) and text my friend that I am running a few minutes late for our call, since the doors to the building where I work are locked.
12.00 pm: Right after the call, I finish my sambo finally and have a cup of instant coffee. Another colleague arrives and it feels good to be on campus, on a day like this when it is so empty. I work as best as I can, until 6 pm.
6:30 pm: I walk home, and with my earphones not charged, I get enough time to just mull with my thoughts. I am glad that my boyfriend is coming over tonight; I need a hug after a rough week. He tells me he will have dinner at his place (he is vegan and I am not, and we’ve learnt to eat our meals separately so that I don’t feel frustrated). I stop by the local chipper for a fish burger for dinner (€5.50).
8:30 pm: As I tidy my room, my boyfriend arrives and I’m glad that he’s brought along reinforcements: beer, cocktails in cans, and a massive bag of crisps. We call it a night after I introduced him to “Fisk” on Netflix.
Today’s total spend: €13.20
10.00 am: I wake up slowly, and the boyfriend kindly brings me a big bowl of oatmeal and coffee in bed. We tackle his Wordle, crosswords, connections and strands together: a moment of frustration that there are too many US-centric cues.
12.00 pm: We try to read our respective books, but I am still tired from the long week, and I need a nap.
5.00 pm: My boyfriend and I walk towards SuperValu. While he heads home, I decide to cook a large pot of chicken and rice and vegetables and pack them in boxes for dinners for the week ahead. I end up buying leeks, canned tomatoes, chicken, potatoes, eggs, energy bars and oranges (€16.50). I want to take the oranges to campus as a daily snack; I want to be better with my dinners.
7.00 pm: I cook a fantastic chicken curry, and eat it with rice. I invite my two housemates to take a bite.
8.00 pm: I crochet while listening to a series of podcasts.
11.00 pm: I go to the kitchen for some more chicken curry and rice. What was meant to be food for at least three dinners, is now just a small morsel left for the next day. I ate too much, but it was so delicious! Really proud of myself.
Today’s total spend: €16.50
***
What I learned
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Investing in the living standards of PhD researchers is an investment in the future of the country. Without research, economies stagnate. Offering adequate financial support and inclusive immigration policies, such as work permits for spouses, can ensure a supportive environment where researchers can focus on their work without sacrificing their quality of life or family stability. It’s time we value researchers not just for their contributions to academia but also as people who deserve dignity and opportunity.
Who actually pays out the 22€K? Is that tax payer money?? Seems generous as its a huge percentage higher than pensioners or those affected by a disability receive, whilst those were the ones who contributed all their lives.
@Frank Mc Carthy: this person’s probably going to be paying very high taxes their whole lives given the level of their education, and you know what, they deserve help now! Good on him
@Frank Mc Carthy: Paid by the universities which have various sources of funding. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because research is important and contributes greatly to society. All the technology you have around you was invented by researchers, they deserve to be paid FFS.
@Neil Armstrong: ever read the article??? A 39yr old female with an ‘non EU’ passport that’s ‘lived & worked in many different countries ‘……….its in the FIRST PARAGRAPH
@Frank Mc Carthy: there’s many on here never read the article just dive straight into the comments with their inflated egos & superior ‘knowledge’ , lol
@Frank Mc Carthy: it’s not tax payer money. You’d know if you ever tried applying for grants, or higher education.
@Frank Mc Carthy: Lol! Dont ever run for office Frank.
@Frank Mc Carthy: who do you think pays the lecturers in University’s and third level institutions. The tax payer
@Thesaltyurchin: lol, happily retired, only running I do nowadays is after the my doggies down the beach
@Neil Armstrong: at 39, maybe mid 40s by the time they finish, assuming they don’t go home, likely not.
A hard reality, at one end research is considered a main pillar for the knowledge economy and on the end the similar situation of non-EU researchers. Just imagine how I’m surviving with 4 dependent kids where spouse is qualified but not allowed to work and kids not allowed for child benefits except schooling.
@Kamran Mir: Have you not got a side hustle yet?… Gotta have it in Ireland, something dealing with cash preferably.
@Kamran Mir: Not to sound harsh, but you choose to take on that role and if your cant support your family them maybe look at working somewhere else where you spouse can work.
My PhD stipend in 1986 was £4,000, and it was a full-time job, requiring 10 hours tutoring a week plus my own research. Up at 7:30, in at 8:30 every day, no 9/10/11am starts, days off with friends, pilates classes or therapy sessions. In addition to working late in the lab or library to 8/9/10pm six days a week, I worked as a warden at an undergraduate students’ residence in return for a “free” room for two years. I also didn’t spend on coffee and takeaways every day (brought sandwiches from home and coffee club at work – kettle, milk, sugar etc.). Finally, I did it aged 21-25, didn’t wait until 39. Just saying.
@Stephen Grimmer: No doubt you had to walk there barefoot in the snow too. Do you want it to be that tough for everyone or do you see a benefit to improving things for people?
I was on minimum wages for a long period of time too. It was tough but your hard work will pay off.
After rent and therapy she is left with just over 1000e a month to live on. Fair play to her it can’t be easy but she seems to live a decent life with visits to the theatre and eating out. No rainy day fund which must be hard if life throws the inevitable curveball.
Be proud of yourself, you are doing brilliant
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