We've been lucky in the current recession - our lifestyle has scarcely been affected. This is purely because of the attitude of my boyfriend, Mr W, who, well before the fall of Lehman Brothers, had imposed on us a regimen of such skinflint severity that an M&S ready meal now seems like a satirical luxury. Mr W is practically a survivalist.

In the past month he has tried to heel a pair of my Tod's boots rather than take them to the cobbler and objected to the purchasing of a birthday present for a child who was not related to us. Conversely, when I looked at my ticket at the Royal Festival Hall last week I found that it had been bought at the half-price child rate. He swore to me on this occasion that it had been an online ordering error. And his latest whim? Choosing to pirate films online rather than pay to see them at the cinema.While I admit that when he announces a showing of Slumdog Millionaire in our front room at 8.30, I don't exactly ring the DVD piracy number, the irritant is that his frugality is winning new admirers. People are fascinated to know what home- made baked beans taste like, or what happens if you permit your cleaner to use only vinegar and baking soda. And what Quidco is.

The latest development in his high-seas buccaneering career has taken things to a new level: Cinema Club. A friend called to see if we wanted to see Gran Torino; this profligate suggestion provoked Mr W to a paroxysm of indignation: “Ten quid? To see that rubbish? Tell her I'll show it here for free. ”

Rachael was initially tentative: “Will we have to watch it on his laptop?” This was a reference to last summer's French villa holiday, when it rained every day and we ended up having to sit around Mr W's laptop watching episodes of Entourage. But as soon as I told her that he now had a piece of electrickery that sent films wirelessly to a TV she was delighted. “Fantastic! We'll bring popcorn!” (“Don't!” cried Mr W. “We'll make our own.”)

By Friday we had gained two more couples, including one, the Sticks, whose financial meanness had been revealed during a villa holiday two years earlier. When it was their turn to go to the supermarket they came back with only one bottle of wine. Confronted by several parents who had just succeeded in getting their kids into bed and now required an alcohol intubation, they responded: “Well... we had wine last night. And the night before.” It was agreed that no one would go on holiday with the Sticks again.

Naturally Cinema Club was a huge success. Apart from being free, its best feature is that you're allowed to heckle. And Clint Eastwood's Doddery Harry picture certainly attracted extreme heckling. But so cosy and relaxing had the experience been that we began planning whole seasons of movies and new sofa configurations for our front room. Which is when Rachael, by now too relaxed - indeed drunk - said: “We could take it on holiday. In fact, I wouldn't mind going back to that place we went last year if we had Cinema Club!” The silence that ensued was broken only by Mrs Stick enthusing: “Brilliant idea. Shall I book?”

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