When Covid struck, causing panic in the supermarket, my loo paper, pasta and dog food supplies came into their own. They weren’t there for a rainy day because that rainy day had arrived. Extrapolating that philosophy, I should have life insurance. Except I don’t. Should I buy it?

I have always assumed that life insurance is a colossal throwing out of money. Why pay for a policy that careful saving should more than adequately cover? Until recently I didn’t even understand the difference between a life insurance policy that covers for a fixed term, or life assurance that covers for your whole life. Either way there’s a bewildering range of policies out there. And all of them seemingly have a list of exclusions longer than the list of things they actually cover. 

Yet there’s very little written about these policies by the users. Is it because you only know if it’s been good value for money once you’ve popped your clogs? And then who’s going to write a glowing article saying how nice it was to receive a huge lump sum but someone had to die in order for the insurance policy to cough up? 

The life insurance policy that only covers you while the policy is in place seems to be a right ol’ Ponzi scheme

The policies that are just a fiver a month seem less than pointless. You could receive a sum of just over £1,000 up to £10,000 to help cover funeral costs. SunLife estimates the cost of a basic funeral is nearly £4,000, with the overall cost of dying at £9,200. 

Frankly, I don’t really want to pay for my own funeral with monthly payments. I have been such excellent company, a brilliant party host and generally good at remembering birthdays and anniversaries: the few thousand quid required to frazzle me when I’m gone and pay for a road trip to throw my ashes into the North Sea from my beach hut is the least friends and family can do. (At high tide please, preferably when it’s not windy as I don’t want you to have to sweep me up off the floor). 

I understand a policy that covers mortgage payments or school fees if you have children or dependants could be helpful at a certain point in life. And while you’re at working age, when your borrowings are high and household finances based on future earnings, this makes reasonable sense. 

But I never bothered with these products then and I’m at a different financial point in my life now. The life insurance policy that only covers you while the policy is in place seems to be a right ol’ Ponzi scheme. Pay a whole load of money and get a wedge if you die. Call me selfish, but I’d rather have the £189 a month plus another £267 if I want £100,000 of critical illness cover in my pocket or making investments. 

And then there are the limits. Many policies seem to be capped at around £400,000 — a useful amount of money to receive. Unless you have very little by way of assets, or you set it up in trust so your beneficiaries own your life insurance cover, you could find it bolsters your inheritance legacy, meaning it will be taxed. No thanks. 

However, this market is huge. According to online data, global annual premiums exceed $1.1tn. And in the UK, market research group IBISWorld estimates the UK market size to be nearly £65.4bn. That’s a lot of premiums.

The industry itself is at pains to tell you how great a record they have at paying out claims. According to Reassured, it was 96.9 per cent on average in 2022. Perhaps our perception of making claims or wrangling we’ve had to do over the years makes these high payout percentages surprising? The 99.9 per cent payout for life claims is easier to explain. It’s fairly hard for an insurance company to argue against death. Unless you’re Lord Lucan. 

These products seem to be aimed at people with no savings, no pension, an outstanding mortgage and no cash in the bank. Finder.com has some rather astonishing statistics relating to the UK population’s finances. Nearly a quarter of British people have no savings at all rising to 32 per cent of generation X. Half of us have less than £1,000 tucked away and the average person in the UK has just £17,773. 

We often perceive our nation is wealthy. And we are compared with the rest of the world. Yet there are millions of Brits who just about manage. Low-paid jobs and having barely enough to get by is the reality for many. The financial crash, the cost of living and energy price rises have exacerbated the issues. For many people, an insurance payout at the right time can be vital.

For myself, I have been much more careful than I sometimes portray in this column. I have even made a few wise investments over the years, and I question whether an insurance policy or suite of policies is really what I need. My day-to-day expenditure needs trimming, while my overall financial worth has never been stronger. Like many who read this column, I’m asset rich, cash poor.

I will pass on spending thousands every year on these expensive policies. And focus on three important things. Write the will I never bothered to draft, keep investing prudently so there’s a cash buffer with enough left for that fabulous send-off party, and make sure the family knows where I keep the fizz. 

James Max is a broadcaster on TV and radio and a property expert. The views expressed are personal. X, Instagram & Threads @thejamesmax

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:James Max

Now I’m a bit older, is it worth spending the money on coaching and kit to catch up?

At times I’ve dabbled in sporting activities. In my thirties I gymed a lot. Mostly because the place I worked encouraged it by having its own gym. Who would turn down a freebie? Especially if you can play loud banging dance tracks while being paid. 

At one stage I even managed to gain a two-pack. That’s long gone, as has any residual fitness. I played a bit of tennis too. However, by the time I became chair of our local tennis club nearly five years ago, my involvement in the sport had dwindled to watching Wimbledon and an annual game. With 16 grass courts, eight hard, two of which are covered throughout the winter, it seemed a waste not to make more use of them.

If you plan a serious return to a sport, that means you not only have to consider taking lessons but refresh all your kit. I’ve always subscribed to the “all of the gear, no idea” school of purchasing. In the 1990s, when I’d last bought all my tennis gear, Stefan Edberg used a Wilson Pro-Staff. So that’s what I bought. Using the racket 20 years later, I received similar looks to the time I turned up at a golf course using my grandfather’s 1974 brass Ping golf bats. I’d been shamed.

Contemplating how to restock my tennis arsenal, I reasoned that if Head rackets were good enough for Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic, of course that’s what I had to have. A decent one costs about £180. I bought two — in case of emergencies. Then you need shoes suitable for hard courts. And they’ll be different from those for grass. Budget on around £100 a pair. 

If you play tennis at a club that cares about these things, you’ll need whites or at least “recognised tennis clothing”. Goodbye to another £100 for a couple of “dry” shirts. If you wear a regular polo shirt, it’ll sap all the sweat and cause chafing. No one needs chafing. And if you wear a T-shirt people will wonder where your collar is. 

Then you’ll need shorts and tennis socks too. And a bag to put all your stuff in. A racket cover is all very well but you need to look like you know what you’re doing, and a proper bag will set you back around £70. Don’t forget that a bag that’s a different brand from your racket is a bit of a no — unless it’s club-branded. And we don’t do those . . . yet. 

You may need quite a lot of balls too. I like the Slazenger Wimbledon ones. They smell the nicest. £16.60 for three tubes of four. Blimey this is getting expensive. 

That’s not forgetting you’ll want to be a member of a club. For ours it’s just £900 a year to access all the activities — lawn tennis, swimming, squash, croquet, walking football, a gym, fitness classes and a tasty discount at the bar. If you just want tennis it’s £660. But thanks to my parents stumping up back in the 1990s, probably to assist with some cash crunch or other, I’m a life member. So there’s even less excuse not to take part. 

That all adds up to a decent cash commitment — even before you’ve considered any coaching.

When I first picked up my new racket in my role as chair, to play in a “fun” tournament a few years ago, it wasn’t much fun at all. It’s amazing how your doubles partner can etch holes in the back of your head when you plop another volley into the net. I wasn’t in much of a fit state to haul my ageing carcass around the court either. It soon told me enough was enough by straining some leg muscles. Time for a visit to the physio, at £40 a throw unless you’re insured. That led to a defatting exercise, or £30 a week to see the nutritionist, who tuts at every pound that returns to the frame. 

But three stone lighter, perhaps with one more to go, it has definitely been worth the money. And that’s the thing. You’ve got to see any expense on sporting and health-related activities as an investment — in you.

Like most subscriptions, it doesn’t sound like a lot. An hour of private tennis coaching at £39 for at least 40 weeks of the year seems reasonable. But then you realise you’ve sapped over £1,500 for a year of lessons. 

For alpine pursuits, private lessons for people of my age are simply there to stop you getting worse

What’s the point? No matter how hard I try or however many lessons I have, I’m never going to be the next Carlos Alcaraz. And this isn’t a quick fix. I need to erase terrible habits, learn that every shot requires a grip change and that tennis is as much a mind game as it is a physical one. 

Stick at it and after a year or two your game will improve, as mine has. Coach Pete has worked wonders. So could I apply this approach to other sporting activities?

I have yet to go through the Kenopause — the phenomenon explored in the new Barbie movie in which every Ken goes through a phase where they suddenly take up golf. There’s an enormous amount of money and frustration to be thrown in that direction. It’s one money pit I’ve so far managed to avoid. But I do like skiing. 

There’s a big difference, however, between tennis coaching and skiing tuition. For alpine pursuits, private lessons for people of my age are simply there to stop you getting worse. Or in my case, erasing the 1990s “swoosh-swoosh” in favour of a 2020s “tilt and carve”. 

As for all the expenditure, is it worth it? Yes. If you play better tennis or ski a little faster than you might have done, you’ll feel better in yourself. And it’s all downhill from here, so you might as well enjoy the ride. 

James Max is chair of the Frinton-on-Sea Lawn Tennis Club fosltc.com, a broadcaster on TV and radio and a property expert. The views expressed are personal. X (Twitter), Instagram & Threads @thejamesmax

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:James Max

Life would be simpler if I had one car. But I don’t. I have six. Arguably, I’ve unnecessarily complicated my life. Some people like having children. I like owning cars. Anyway, who doesn’t need a range of vehicles? You can’t be expected to use the same car to pop to the chippy — that needs a Rolls. As for turning up to the tennis club, that requires a pimped-up Jeep.

A few years ago, I visited the life laundry (my way of sorting out problems by sleeping on them) and decided to clean up my act. I bought a single policy for all my cars. It worked. With the odd check here and there to ensure I wasn’t overpaying, it was easy to manage. My insurance broker — yes, they still exist — did a terrific job. Saving four figures and a lot of time on admin too.

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:James Max

Perhaps an old dog with multiple ailments should be dispatched to the doggy equivalent of Dignitas. That would save a fortune. But hang on. Yes, he struggles to get up and down stairs and a slow potter to the post box is about as much as he can manage but he seems happy enough. He’ll greet you with a tail wag and a woof. I’d prefer it if he didn’t woof at me.

His breath is abominable. But you become incredibly attached to your furry friends. If they have a decent quality of life, surely as an owner you have an obligation to keep them happy, healthy and alive — whatever the cost?

Speak to any dog owner and they’ll tell you tales of swallowed balls, splintered sticks, snake bites, fevers, unexplained bleeding, cuts, scrapes, back trouble and sickness — all requiring expensive treatments or surgery.

Dog ownership is not for the faint-hearted or indeed a challenged budget. And if you have a dog, you’ll want the very best care for them no matter what the cost might be. For all the unconditional love and laughter they bring, they must have the best. And that, I’ve concluded, means insuring them for any and every eventuality. Household savings will have to come from elsewhere.

James Max is a broadcaster on TV and radio and a property expert. The views expressed are personal. Twitter: @thejamesmax

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:James Max