Skint as a Flint

Generally speaking, our house was quite savvy when it came to saving money. We got a good deal on moving into a converted old person’s home. As soon as we looked around, we knew it was perfect. It still had bars on the walls, which would be ideal for when we were a bit wobbly after a night out. We economised in other ways, too. We’d make home-made decorations for birthdays and we always had inventive ways of doing cheap fancy dress (it’s amazing how many themes can be covered with a check shirt or some building overalls). For my twenty-first birthday, my housemates bought an inflatable paddling pool shaped like a train, which we put in the living room. A genius move, which saved on buying in loads of drinks and, importantly, cups. Everyone could just drink straight from the pool from straws. We emptied everything we had into it and, as people arrived, they would contribute whatever they had. All was fine until someone got a bit carried away and decided to go for a semi-naked swim, which naturally put everyone off what was essentially the world’s largest fishbowl. It was a lot like Augustus Gloop spooning the chocolate river into his mouth – and one of my very unhappy housemates went full Willy Wonka on the situation.