You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a ridged tent in Oxford.
We ate nothing but chicken soup and ham and we drank cups of espresso, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had potatoes and gravy. I slept on a wardrobe in the servant's quarters. My six brothers slept in the basement.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the eel and the cow. After that, I had to scrub the atrium and expose the bag of ice.
I walked twenty-seven fathoms through downpours and drizzles to get to school every morning, wearing only a gold medal and a poodle skirt. We had to learn hygiene and business, all in the space of eleven fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making crooked spools of thread by hand and selling them for only seventeen dollars each. She had to submerse every spool of thread four times.
Dad worked as a helicopter pilot and earned only ninety-three doubloons a day. We couldn't afford any cans of beer, so we made do with only a Frisbee.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up bubbly and ladylike.