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We’re taking a little detour from my usual tales of the love and mayhem of life around here today, and hopefully not a detour that you’ll find too jarring.
H and I have been together since we were eighteen. We’re not quite high school sweethearts, but we’re only a term or two at university further down the line.
After we graduated our jobs took us in different directions and I made firm friends with all the conductors on the Friday night trains north as I commuted out of London every other weekend or so to spend a couple of days getting some fresh air in the midlands. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I moved north to live in the same county, and only once we got engaged and bought our lovely house that we actually combined households.
I’m pretty sure that moving out from shared rented houses into our own place saw some of our household expenditure go up (there’s nothing quite like the shock of the first time that you have to pay a whole council tax bill by yourself) but I do remember discovering that it didn’t cost much more to feed the pair of us, than it did just me.
Although having said that, there is a very good chance that that has ever so slightly something to do with my inherent propensity to try to feed the five thousand, no matter how many people are actually sitting down for supper. I’ve been known to survey the Sunday lunch and wonder if there’s anyone we can invite over at really short notice, and the first time I cooked a Christmas dinner in my student house in Oxford not one of the eight of us around the table had even the tiniest space for the Christmas pud which remained in its glittery gold wrapper on the top shelf of the pantry until we moved out in July. For all I know, it’s there still.
But I digress. I have a fondness for statistics born of happy hours counting the different colours of Smarties in a broad sample of tubes for the stats element of my maths A-levels, and so this infographic looking at the different costs of being a two versus being a one rather piqued my interest.
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