Orwell relates with wry humour how he manages to survive below the poverty line. I’m sure it was much worse than he remembers it. We don’t read anything about the pain of going for days without food. But we do enjoy arguments between barmen, filth in hotel kitchens and bugs in bedrooms.
I didn’t find this as clever or intense as much of Orwell’s other work but, page after page, it delivered amusing anecdotes which made me wantto read on until the end.