I am, it should be noted, typically very responsible with money. Unlike many people I know, I don’t have a chronic online shopping addiction and I don't buy five pints at a ridiculously expensive Cambridge pub eveeytime I go out (on a side note, the prices of some of those pubs really are ridiculous – who prices their cheapest pint at £8?!). But I must admit that food has always been my weakness. And after moving to a central college where I’m surrounded at all sides by incredible food outlets – which includes an unfortunately delicious pasta shop with equally unfortunate prices – I am finding my resolve to save money being slowly eroded.

At first, I didn’t think there was any issue. I told myself that I was only buying pasta from there occasionally. It was pretty much once a week – I could hardly be considered a regular. This half-hearted attempt at self-deception pretty quickly fell apart, though, when I walked into said shop and the cook addressed me by name. It was at that moment I accepted the fact that a not-insignificant portion of my student loan had stirred itself into that delicious pasta and would probably continue to do so.

“Of all urges to overcome, that of getting a nice, familiar treat after a hard day’s work is the hardest”

This is a dilemma I expect is shared by many at this university, though the object of our fiscally irresponsible desires may vary. Whether it be a particular café, restaurant or even bookshop, almost everyone develops that craving they just can’t seem to kick. I’ve made many promises to lay off expensive pasta for the foreseeable future, and every time this promise seems suddenly arbitrary after spending five hours sat at a laptop writing the same essay. Of all urges to overcome, that of getting a nice, familiar treat after a hard day’s work is the hardest.

Whether this addiction to my local pasta shop is a bad thing is debatable. On one hand, there is the obvious caveat of the large amount of money being spent. As atrocious as my gyp is, it is just about possible to make my own pasta in it. I am not at all justified in buying a pasta dish for three times the price – though comparing the quality of the pasta I make with tomato sauce out of a jar in my gyp cupboard and the kind of pasta that I buy fresh is a little like comparing ASDA brand lemonade with the freshly made kind. The latter is a delight to the taste buds – the former has a significant chance of giving you cancer.

“Sometimes some good food and a friendly face is all that’s needed to brighten up your day”

On the other hand, even if my economical choices regarding food make my bank account cry out in agony, wanting to give yourself a treat while studying here should not be considered a crime. What with the frankly ridiculous number of deadlines we’re dealt, we should be able to justify getting the kind of dinner we want – even if it isn’t the most practical choice to make. Not only that, building a relationship with workers or owners of local businesses is just nice. After all, even if it does deal critical damage to your bank account, sometimes some good food and a friendly face is all that’s needed to brighten up your day – and it could be what gives you the motivation you need to write an essay that actually succeeds at impressing your supervisor (though I will admit this last point may be a tad too optimistic).

Either way, the chances of me stopping buying ridiculously expensive pasta from my local shop is incredibly unlikely. But, despite what your bank account might tell you, being a regular is not as embarrassing as you may believe. In a way, it’s the best way to get to know the city we’re living in, while supporting smaller businesses along the way. And, most importantly, it makes my day just that little bit happier. So, as long as it does not genuinely crash you headlong into financial ruin, buy from that café, eat in that restaurant, go to that bookshop. The smallest things, after all, can make the biggest difference.