Going to church every Sunday until you were 16 and having to make confirmation with your peers who are equally bored and not in any way religous but doing it to keep their parents happy whilst you’re fully aware that the church in question pretty much despises you as a human being.
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not exactly that, but every so often, like once every few years, my dad would get a disposable BBQ and he’d cook 5 burgers (that’s one each) and we’d eat them at the kitchen table, inside.
I don’t think we were ever allowed any sweets in the morning, ever. Except Easter Sunday and Christmas Day. You’ll ruin your appetite!
We were once going a picnic but the car wouldn’t start so we just ate it in the car, in our driveway.
This but until 10/11 when I was given a choice
My dad would always give me the knobbler (it’s what we call the end of a french stick) when we got one. Love the knobbler.
We only got the dining table out on Christmas Day. Felt weird.
The view from our dining room window
because my mum fancied a night off from cooking, I guess.
Didn’t quite happen to me, but very, very close (I was about 14 when I stopped going to church - still feel bad for how upset it made my mum )
sometimes having a side of oven chips with pizza or pasta
High rise hell hole
My sister and I used to say we were going to mass and go to the pub across the road instead. Brutal.
This put with a packet of raisins.
pizza: fine. Pasta: ummm
Basically all our parents were suckers and should have travelled at a sensible time when nobody else was on the road instead of creating a traffic jam for themselves.
weird because its not something i’d countenance now, but the 90s were wild, man.
Turkey dinosaurs and chips for dinner four times a week
tell me about it! Used to have French bread pizzas in the early 90s, as standard. What a time to be alive.
My dad used to have a lot of cash and we’d play grab a grand a lot in the living room on a Saturday night
