Often at my family occasions studentdom seems to prevail as a novelty. “Are you studying hard?” “What are your lecturers like?” “How’s the lecherous binge drinking culture treating you?” One other often touched upon subject is the student diet, you know, that one where you eat nothing but turkey twizzlers and wash it down with pure distilled ethanol or, if you’re going for that quirky student allure, diesel.
A lot of people I know supplement this delightful diet with actual things that the UN, NATO, the G8, The Famous Five, the Fantastic Four, and the wider world have accepted as food. I, for one, am particularly partial to couscous and lentils. To my family, these are things that are alien. “Where’s the meat,” they cry, “and do you serve those with chips?”