I was allowed to drink all the water I wanted during those hours. Which was good, because that way I could fill up on water and not have to eat so much of the [*stuff*] my grandmother made. She had the idea that the depression was still on, and that we had to eat as much garbage as possible. I had no idea, for like thirty or forty years, that "meat loaf" could actually be an edible food. But she'd apparently spent summers as a girl with her Chichester relatives in the F'burg area, and had acquired these notions of propriety that required her to make the distinction between "dinner" and "supper". Too bad she hadn't learned to cook.
You can't imagine what a luxury it is for me to be able to eat at FiveGuys.