We weren't well off when I was a child. My father died when I was four, leaving my mother to raise me on a widow's pension. She was rather a smart old Scot and to discourage me spending my half crown (12.5p to you modern youngsters) on sweets she had Fairy Daffodil who left me a surprise bag of sweets in the house somewhere on a Sunday morning.
This gave me a weekly treasure hunt and the eternal dilemma of "scoff'em all at once" or make them last the week. Strangely enough the pocket money I got was exactly the price of a Penguin's children's paperback so every week I would trot into the shop and add to my growing collection of Narnia books or Biggles adventures. I'm sure my pocket money helped me become a writer.
The sweets helped me become a fat ole biddy!