Rosie Millard: Thrifty Living

Eventually, even princesses accept low-budget parties

There is nothing that brings out the thrift-merchant in me quite like children's parties. In my case, my attitude has sprung from a tidy equation concerning the number of children I have, and the ages they are, against the weight of my overdraft. As ever, it's probably the eldest who has noticed the greatest change in spending style.

She started off with champagne for her first birthday, and subsequent natal celebrations were equally lavish, with magicians, clowns, white rabbits and so on. Those days are a distant memory. Thinking about them now is rather like reading about the luxurious lifestyle Frances Hodgson Burnett's little princess had before her father's untimely death and the loss of all his money. Well, it's perhaps not as bad as that. I mean, I haven't started to starve her and set her to work as a skivvy, but the children's parties have become a lot more simple.

Simplicity, and doing it at home, is the key if you want to achieve a child's birthday party which will cost you less than £100 all up. Trips to the cinema, ice rink, London Zoo, Chessington, Alton Towers and the popcorn-festooned rest? Let other parents do all that.

In preparation for my double-whammy I received the perfect tip from a complete stranger in Regent's Park, of all places. Spotting one of my children waft around in a bright blue Disney Cinderella dress, she charged over to me and murmured: "Have a princess party for her! Make crowns! And get all the stuff from Baker Ross!" Yes, these fairy-tale moments do indeed happen when you are walking around with a person dressed from crowned head to slippered toe in shiny blue flounced polyester.

And so I visited the Baker Ross website. Indeed, I discovered it was something of a godsend, full of fabulous party gear, crafty activities, little gifts and so on. (Plus, if you spend over £75 you get a "free" plush reindeer, which makes a good pass-the-parcel filling). The brilliant thing about many of the activities is that they are half-made already and need absolutely no skill. All your guests have to do is decorate them with a furry cat, sparkly jewel or scary skeleton, also all provided. You just have to buy the glue.

So last weekend I managed to throw two children's parties for around £70 each. The first was the long-awaited princess party, at which several small princesses (and one reluctant prince) made foam crowns, constructed felt Hallowe'en bags and played my own devised game, "pin the crown on the princess".

There were no tears, since no competitive games were played. It's not that I am some sort of "ban all sports days" fiend. But I have discovered that if you introduce musical bumps to a bunch of five-year-olds, it's going to end in tears. It's better to have them all quietly standing around a table, making foam crowns for 20 minutes. It lasts longer than musical bumps, and allows you to have a sneaky glass of wine.

For tea, we had fairy cakes, decorated with the number 5, and flapjacks. Instead of party bags, we had fairy magnets, £1 each. I have long abandoned party bags. It's much easier, more stylish, and much (ahem) cheaper to simply give each child a gift. I'm not alone here – last week my lot came home from a party each clutching a tiny cactus in a plastic pot – a masterstroke.

The next day, the next party – this time for my eldest son (eight), who had pleaded for a sports morning . So at 10am, cheery Duncan from the local soccer school arrived with a bag full of balls, cones, tabards etc, and took over a corner of the local park. For two hours. Total cost: £70.

Again, no one ended up in tears, not because it was uncompetitive but because Duncan managed to address the issue with a compelling streak of comedy. Winners of the races, shoot-outs and so on, had to run around the field shouting "I am the chicken dinner." Losers had to run around shouting "I am the dog's dinner."

Alright, it's not quite the manner of the Olympic podium, but it suited our motley crowd perfectly. Plus, no one ended up in tears since the winners were as mortified as the losers. For the birthday tea, we had the same food as the day before, namely fairy cakes and flapjacks, only I had secretly changed the important figure on the fairy cakes from 5 to 8. Well, no one noticed.