London is making me into a tight-arse (or Monthly pay is the Bain-Marie of my life)

On Tuesday, whilst standing in the Baked Goods section of Tescos, I was trying to invent crafty ways to make £20 stretch for 2 weeks. All of a sudden, a radiant light beamed from the pre-packed muffin rack, guiding my eyes towards a ‘Marked Down’ sticker. “50p, four muffins for 50p,” I said vociferously, clenching my fingers into a joyful air-punch. Lowering my hand, I felt dirty. My father would be so proud, and I hate that my father would be proud. I needed to wash, to cleanse myself with anti-bacterial soap, fresh pound notes and extravagant purchases. But first, I would buy the muffins.