I got the best Father's Day present this weekend. My youngest lad, 19-year-old Ben, came back from university for a week at home during a mid-semester break. He's only a fifth of our family but having him home doubles the energy of the house.
So when Ben comes home he only has a few demands. Make sure there are 24 eggs and a slew of cold meats in the house and let's have some hearty home-cooked meals. He comes home for family but I think he really comes home to eat.
Life as a second-year student, flatting in Wellington is tight. No free tertiary for this boy he's one year too old. No hostels because he's in his second year. High rents because properties are tight. It means the budget is brutal.
Ben gets through by bulk buying veggies at the Victoria Street carpark Sunday market. Meat disappears from his budget. When he arrives home his only stipulation is no tomato-based dishes because the pasta and can of tomatoes diet gets tedious when it's your staple.
I thought about this when I heard two conflicting stories this morning: