You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a stolen convent in Algiers.
We ate nothing but beef bouillon and beef bouillon and we drank Bacardis, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had pancakes. I slept on a washing machine in the study. My six sisters slept in the study.
I had to get up every morning at eleven to feed the seal and the skunk. After that, I had to scrub the ballroom and dress the photograph.
I walked fifteen millimeters through bits of precipitation and downpours to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of ear muffs and a gas mask. We had to learn ciphering and aeronautics, all in the space of five months.
Mom worked hard, making papery dishes by hand and selling them for only eight crowns each. She had to trim every dish nine times.
Dad worked as a performer and earned only four stock options a day. We couldn't afford any Van Goghs, so we made do with only a playing card.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up impish and sociable.