My sister and I, that's how we were brought up. It started with Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bars, and graduated to our monthly allowance. Handed out on the first of every month, with choice, but identical words. Dad was never a fan of flowery language. But I'll take the liberty of exagerating.

Snip open the top of the wrapper with scissors. Safety, Lizzy, do you want to cut open the skin on your fingertips? Keep the side that says 'Hershey's Milk Chocolate' facing upward, Andy. Now, neatly peel back the silver foil. Till just the tip is showing, Lizzy. Now break a square, only one, mind you. Put the rest of the bar in the fridge, its going to melt. Andy, since when has the table provided a cold enough temperature to the atmosphere to prevent the chocolate from forming a mess? ANDREA! Come back here!

And spot the similarity...

Now, here is your allowance for the month, covering everything you wear from that hideous neon make up to the tight jeans you both have an unhealthy obsession for. Buy at the sales. Make a list, and estimate the for more productive shopping trips.

When we enquired if he had ever chanced upon the very useful, universally applicable equation of 'Spontaneous shopping trips = Retail therapy= non-moody daughters', he laughed it off by mentioning window shopping trips. We winced, and then waved goodbye, Andrea muttering curses, not expected of a dignified young lady, one of the primary aims of our school. Making her a dignified young lady, I mean.

I don't mind not having a numerous, double-C embossed hand bags falling on me when I open my much-in-need-of-cleaning closet, but it would be pleasant. Call it my guilty desire for fifteen minutes of fame.