Jayne Dowle: Why austerity could just be our cup of tea

You can't fault them for timing. They figure that if we have turned into a nation prepared to pay upwards of 2 for a cup of frothy coffee, we might do the same for tea and cakes. The first Cadbury's Cocoa House opens this week, with plans for 50 up and down the country. Afternoon tea starts at just over a tenner. It might not sound like a bargain, but it's a damned sight cheaper than a meal in a fancy Michelin-starred restaurant. With the demise of the expense account, no wonder the days of paying silly money for two bits of asparagus and a quail's egg appear to be numbered. I think it's called a gap in the market.

Nevertheless, you might think they are mad, opening a business like this in the middle of one of the greatest economic slowdowns of the post-war world. But the chief executive is a former head of operations for Starbucks, and considering the global dominance of that particular brand, you can only assume that he knows what he is doing. Out of adversity, many a genius idea is born. And this got me thinking. We might all be feeling the pinch. Even the Queen has cancelled the Buckingham Palace Christmas party this year to save a bit of dosh. But that doesn't mean that we have to give up all our little treats.

The Cadbury's Cocoa House people have obviously done their homework. So I decided to do a bit of market research of my own to find out what, even when money is getting tighter than Eric Pickles's waistband, we can't live without. Top of the list has to be a cheeky glass of wine in the evening. Every Budget seems to add a few pence on to the price of a bottle. But dedicated quaffers will always sniff out the supermarket deals, even if it means driving to the next county to pick up a particular favourite on three-for-a-tenner. Whisper the words "Cloudy Bay on offer" and watch as hordes of harassed-looking females descend, leaving the shelves as if a plague of locusts had been visited on us, just to add to our troubles.

Then there is chocolate. Never underestimate the power of a bar of fruit-and-nut. When things look especially grim, it will lift your

spirits and calm your angst like nothing else. I've even got one

friend who keeps a bar in her car, for the moments at the traffic lights when she gets the urge to recreate a scene from Duel. And guys, please excuse this one, but a little application of hand-cream seems to have a strangely calming effect on us women. It need not cost the earth. Pound-shops are happy hunting grounds for this particular treat. And speaking of pound-shops, when the retail mood is upon us, there is nothing quite as satisfying as half-an-hour in the aisles with a five-pound note. Well, OK, perhaps half-an-hour in Harvey Nicks with a platinum credit card might be a tad more glamorous, but it is amazing what you can pick up in there. If a pair of new oven-gloves does it for you, then who am I to judge?

My friend Sara prefers a nice bunch of flowers. Her argument is that they brighten up the house and save you the hassle – and expense – of employing a painter and decorator. Scrounge round in the bottom of your bag and you're sure to scrape together enough small change to treat yourself to a bunch of chrysanths. Not quite a new kitchen, I know, but needs must. And then there is the underwear habit… a certain high-street discount store takes the concept of "pile 'em high" to the nth degree. You can transform yourself into a vision of glamour for an outlay more modest than the outcome. We're not exactly talking Janet Reger, but if a shocking pink G-string cheers you up these cold autumn mornings, I won't tell anybody.

And just in case you think that it's only women who are falling for these little treats in tough times, let me tell you about my friend Stuart. A dedicated foodie, he can wax lyrical about truffles all day. At the moment, truffles are definitely off the menu in their house, but that doesn't stop him from indulging in the odd bottle of extra-virgin olive oil, pressed by the feet of Tuscan virgins. Or something. He says that the sight of the bottles lined up in the cupboard cheers him up no end, even when it's only supermarket

pasta for tea.

It's said that a little of what you fancy does you good. If that sounds like the first line of a song on the wireless, then that's no coincidence. Welcome to the new age of austerity. Now where's my hat and gloves?