But with a bit of imagination, a bit of work and some careful scrimping, you can feed your family for 50p a day. I've managed to make it work for the Beaker Folk and I can let you have the method below. This recipe is for Beaker Artisanal Wood-Fired Pizza. And it's no secret - this is how you do it...
Feeds 50 Beaker Folk
Ingredients:
- Pizza bases: £25
- Tomatoes: Free from the Beaker greenhouses
- Mushrooms: Free from the mushroom cellar
- Cheese: Artisanal Beaker Cheese made from the Beaker herd
- Fuel: Beaker Charcoal hand-charred from wood from the Beaker Forest.
- Olive Oil (extra-virgin) - hanging around in the herb cupboard
- Herbs - see Olive Oil
Obviously, this is just the adults. We've put in an order for KFC for the Little Pebbles.
Why can't everybody else be as ingenious as us?
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If we go back 60 years or so, when I were a lad, I was feed for 10 Shillings a day, as dad was on the sick and the National Assistance told him to go and sell something as he wouldn't get benefits until the household was reduced to one bed, one chair, on table and a kettle and cooker. Given that there was four of us, that was a little mean. But he persuaded us to go out and to beg, knowing that the coppers wouldn't nick a child begging, just give us a clip around the ear and send us home. This worked for us and being the artful dodger I managed to escape most of the clips around the ears. My sisters fared better and between us we managed to collect 10 bob a day, which fed us all for that day. You learn a lot by living on that 10 bob, what the cheapest things are to buy, where to go to get them and even where the soup kitchens are for vagrants to sneek the odd cup of soup. They were happy times as we foraged through the big bins under the shutes in the flats we lived in for scraps to supplement the 10 bob. We ate like pearly kings and queens. The East End was a bright place in those days. I you hung around the publs at closing time you could pick up a few dog ends for Dad to roll his own and occasionally have the odd beer thrown at you. Nothing like going to school smelling of beer and all of the kids envious of you smelling like a sour brewery. Those were the good old days, before the Welfare State and Labour Governments.
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