Prices are rising, brands are downsizing, and somewhere between the bread aisle and the checkout, you start to question how a basic grocery run now costs more than what dinner used to. I set myself a challenge: one month, only Aldi and Lidl. No detours. No “just stopping by” the big-name supermarket for comfort items. What happened to my shopping basket—and my finances—caught me off guard.
On a rainy Tuesday, I observed the conveyor belt fill with unfamiliar brands and recognizable shapes. Butter looked like butter. Cheese looked like cheese. My phone timer beeped at 22 minutes; I was at the checkout, a small miracle. On the way home, the bag straps dug into my fingers, a substantial weight that felt sufficient. The receipts, however, told a different tale.
The week my receipt became lighter
The first week was a test of curiosity. I exchanged my usual big-brand yogurt for Aldi’s Brooklea, my premium pasta for Lidl’s Italiamo, and the fancy chocolate for a 45p bar I didn’t expect to enjoy. My total at the checkout dropped from £92 to £63. I kept waiting for the catch. The milk frothed in the coffee just like usual. The tomatoes were firm and sweet. I realized I felt less precious about meals, more practical, and strangely a bit proud.
On Friday, we had pancake night. Lidl flour, Aldi eggs, a drizzle of budget maple syrup that wasn’t actually maple but tasted good nonetheless. No one batted an eye. On Sunday, I prepared a traybake with 89p chicken thighs and a heap of peppers. The house smelled like comfort. At the end of week two, I piled up my receipts and calculated the numbers: down 31% on my usual monthly expenditure. I stared at the calculator as if it might be deceiving me.
Once the novelty faded, the logic became clear. The limited-choice layout speeds up decision-making. Fewer brands, less second-guessing, more movement. Own label takes the lead, which keeps margins tight and prices fair. The checkout process is a sprint, not a chat. You bag your items after paying, which feels strange at first but then becomes efficient. The only chaos is the middle aisle, a Bermuda Triangle of air fryers and hiking socks. I learned to walk past it like a monk.
The system that made it stick
I utilized a straightforward “3-2-1” template for planning: three easy dinners, two batch-cook meals, one wildcard experiment. I created a list from that, then scrutinized the price-per-100g on the shelf labels like a hawk. Midweek, I’d replenish with fruit, milk, and bread—ten minutes in and out. I kept a small note on my phone with target prices (milk under £1.65, pasta under 70p, butter under £2). This turned price-checking into a quick game rather than a chore.
Avoid my rookie mistakes. I purchased four multipacks because they “looked cheaper,” only to realize the singles offered better value. I let the middle aisle tempt me—hello, pizza oven—and nearly jeopardized my savings. I forgot bags twice and paid the unnecessary tax. We’ve all experienced that moment when you think saving money is about self-control, then a discounted cheesecake catches your eye. Let’s be honest: nobody meal-preps flawlessly every week.
I incorporated small rituals that kept me on track. I had a snack before shopping, as hunger is an expensive motivator. I shopped in the early evening for yellow-sticker deals, but only if they aligned with my plan. I set aside £10 of “flex” in my budget to keep it realistic. Small adjustments, significant rewards. My total time in-store decreased by a third, and my mind felt lighter.
“The trick wasn’t about being cheap. It was about being clear on what dinner actually looks like on a Tuesday.”
- Switch 80% of staples to own label; keep 20% “keepers” you cherish.
- Shop the ends of aisles first; the middle is where impulse purchases reside.
- Freeze half of your batch-cook on the day you prepare it, not “tomorrow.”
- Use a price ceiling per meal (£2–£3 per person) as a quick filter.
What I’ll continue doing—and what I won’t
Here’s what I’ve taken away after four weeks. I’ll maintain the template planning, as decision fatigue is costly. I’ll continue shopping at Aldi and Lidl for staples and fresh produce, then allow for the occasional treat from elsewhere, because joy is important. I won’t pursue every bargain or hoard like a survivalist. I won’t pretend I never crave brand-name cereal. I will keep a running list of “keepers” that genuinely taste better, and fully embrace that 80/20 mindset. Saving shouldn’t feel like a punishment; it should feel like the freedom to breathe. The month taught me the distinction between price and value. It also showed me that the middle aisle remains perilous, and that I’m happier when the weekly shopping doesn’t feel like a negotiation with myself.
| Key Point | Detail | Reader Benefit |
|---|---|---|
| Own-label first, 80/20 rule | Switch most staples to Aldi/Lidl brands; keep a short list of must-have originals | Immediate savings without feeling deprived |
| 3-2-1 meal template | Three easy wins, two batch-cooks, one fun try each week | Faster decisions, fewer takeaways, less waste |
| Middle-aisle guardrails | One impulse item per month, not per trip | Protects your savings from sneaky splurges |
FAQ :
- Are Aldi and Lidl really cheaper than big supermarkets?During my month-long shopping experience, my weekly total decreased by about a third. Own label dominates, and price-per-100g frequently surpasses big-name alternatives.
- Did you notice a drop in quality?Not with staples. Yogurt, pasta, eggs, vegetables, and canned goods were solid. I kept a couple of branded “keepers” for flavor, like coffee and hot sauce.
- How much did you save in total?My average weekly spend dropped from around £92 to approximately £63. Over four weeks, that’s roughly £116 back in my pocket.
- Can this work if you’re gluten-free or vegetarian?Yes, with planning. Both chains offer gluten-free lines and plenty of plant-based options, though availability may vary by store and week.
- What about loyalty points or delivery?Aldi and Lidl don’t operate traditional points programs, and delivery options are limited. The trade-off is lower shelf prices and quick in-and-out shopping trips.
The quiet shift money can’t measure
The most significant change wasn’t my receipt—it was my mindset. I stopped obsessively checking prices and began cooking what made sense for my week. I discovered new “house” recipes that were inexpensive, quick, and good enough to repeat. I made mistakes occasionally, and that’s perfectly fine. One month at Aldi and Lidl didn’t turn me into a saint. It did quiet the noise in my mind. It made dinner feel uncomplicated again. Perhaps the real luxury is a grocery shopping experience that doesn’t complicate your life. If you try a month, let me know what you keep, what you discard, and what you can’t believe you didn’t buy sooner.
