This one sharehouse

There was a room underneath the house proper, among the supports, wherein one sharer and his buddies would smoke pot. They referred to it as The Transformation Chamber.

We so regularly consumed fish'n'chips and other fried takeaways, a three-litre bottle of BBQ sauce sat permanently on the lounge-room floor beside a recliner. It was known as King Sauce.

For reasons involving "Robin Of Sherwood", the SCA, cheap OJ and random numberplate letters, the only car any of us owned was nicknamed Durgan Of The Brentwood.

We each paid $33/week rent.

Those were the fuckin' days.