When Trickey and I were enduring our enforced three year engagement, and for several years afterwards, we were what you would call "financially poor". We weren't in debt. An expenditure of $4 for a dress from an opshop was a point of discussion, however.
Our friends who were out nightclubbing, shopping, travelling the world and Australia and partying didn't envy us.
Our very inexpensive entertainment was of walking to the local pub with me singing very bad karoke while my cousin did some really excellent Elvis vocalising. Hanging with my fave cousins and friends, that was excellent fun for us. They are some of my best memories, ones I really enjoy revisiting. Right up until Trickey admitted last month to having a recording. I am a Baaaaaaaaaaad singer.
We were saving for a house deposit.
Back when Banks didn't lend to you without impeccable references and proof of saving and a 10 percent deposit.
So, we were what you would call poor. My sister, however, was one step below that, as she and her Hubby had the joy of being perpetual students for at least another ten years after we had all finished Uni. They were happy, so is all good. Their first Church helped them out a lot and they helped their Church. They recieved a lot of second hand goods, to help them by.
Which is awesome.
Sometimes, these goods would double up. Then, my sister would ask us if we needed any of the extras. As a result, 20 years on, my kitchen is still graced by the presence of twice recycled utensils.
A few weeks ago, I was using the garlic press, the rolling pin and the spatula gained from charity and thinking that I could probably afford to buy new ones now, more attractive ones, ones that didn't remind me of our previous need for charity. That these thoughts were instigated when I strained my thumb muscle using the ancient garlic press, I do admit. Fortunately, I am adequate in writing with either hand, thought my signature has suffered. ;-)
Today, at Princess' maths tutoring, her lovely tutor and I were discussing how she tries to obtain most items secondhand, as part of her recycling beliefs. She op shops for clothes and always manages to look very stylish. Each piece of crockery in the kitchen has it's own history and the furniture is so well loved that I always feel totally welcome to curl up in one of the chairs, with a book, and hopefully her flatmate's gorgeous and exceedingly sociable cat.
To make me feel useful rather than indulgent, snuggling with devine feline the keeps that most affectionately demanding of kitties from sitting on the Maths work book and demanding the pair of them pay attention to her, instead of volume and area. Cos my Princess totally WILL give this GlamourPuss more attention than she will the history of Archimedes discovering how volume can be measured by displacement.
I bet he wasn't really that hot though. Maybe more like this.
On the drive home, I pondered the discussion we had had about recycling and realised there was no need to replace most of these items, as they were perfectly functional. They aren't on display. They flatten pastry, flip eggs and do what they were designed to do.
Except that rotten Garlic press. You only get to hurt me once, kitchen appliance!!