Gone are the days of eating good shit, now you have shit all money.
“It’s getting COLD!”
*Queue the stampede of footsteps down the hall*
Fuck the 50’s, these were the golden days.
If you’re still living at home, I hate you. Don’t even glance at my printed full name at the top there because we can’t be associated with one another. I hope you realise the Barbados you’re living in. You’re saving money, not going to Pak’nSave three times a day, AND getting meals cooked for you. Unless of course you invite me over, then I’m not going to complain. I can and will charm your mother into keeping me.
2017 and the upheaval of my Glassons wardrobe came with quite a shock when I realised the rent at halls didn’t include your own personal stand-in mother and snack-stocked pantry. What a shit show. My mum is one of those, “No, no, get out of the kitchen,” or, “you just painted your nails, I’ll wash up,” kind of mothers. Naturally, I got to uni and scrambled my eggs for two months until I googled how to poach them along with other essential life skills.
It’s quite disgustingly beautiful to see what the student mind can invent with little money, inspiration and skills. Open the cupboard and we are challenged with thinking of what exquisite dish we can sizzle together with half a bag of spinach, a carrot and an 89c tin of chopped tomatoes. I asked around to see what scody students were throwing together with their own loose change:
Nuggers and chips
Lasagne on 2 minny noodles
Samosa garlic bread
Tinned corned beef and maggi noodles #blessed