When I Was a Child...
When I was a child, I don’t remember being desperately hungry although I do remember special breakfast on a Sunday morning being only one slice of toast and dripping from a cheapish cut of beef.
But I do remember being quite anxious at school to have any extra leftover lukewarm, sitting-in-the-sun, glass bottled, silver topped milk. My hand would wildly wave and probably my small voice too as it was then, piping up to be first in the queue for extras. Now that pre-supposes one of two things: either I was greedy, or possibly hungry, the hours ticking by until I could have my free school dinner!
I also remember on the occasions that my Mother bought, could budget for a packet of chocolate digestives, that older siblings would get one and half and we younger ones one. It’s highly likely that is why my eldest sister, on being paid her first wages, waitressing, went out and bought a packet of chocolate digestives and shut herself in her closet, the only wardrobe in our 4 girls bedroom to eat them. Or so the story goes from my next, older, sister, who to this day I think, apparently still feels hard done by! For myself, as an adult, I now understand and appreciate how my eldest sister felt…
As I said before, I really don’t remember going hungry but I do remember the odd threat of going to bed without any tea. I recall that clearly because my next sister was sent to bed one night without any tea and I remember secretly squirrelling away part of my supper for her to eat so she wouldn’t go hungry.
When I met and married, for many, many years my husband didn’t understand the huge gulf between our childhoods and upbringing. For he had grown up in a small private hotel where food was always a plenty and he could raid huge tins of biscuits whenever he wanted. No one thought too much about him sneaking into the freezer room either to help himself to catering sized gateau or such. Or maybe they didn’t notice him…And presumably, as with those, there were always other exciting morsels or smackerals to be had! Not such in my home with eight of us to be fed and clothed and six of us to be schooled…
The only time I remember there being any food to help ourselves to when we were younger, was Christmas Day. Having spring cleaned the house from top to bottom the week before Christmas, I was usually allowed to lay out the starched white runner over the glossy sideboard that was my mother’s treasure. It was probably the only household job of many daily ones from an early age that I enjoyed, as I was then permitted to put out the Christmas sweets. On her very modest household budget for eight (or then seven when my Father died New Years Eve 1965) she would lovingly and diligently eke out enough money each week towards a Catalogue Christmas Hamper.
Full of tinned goodies like cocktail fruit and sliced peaches in syrup; carrots in salted water and processed peas, chicken in jelly, tinned salmon there were also the more exciting small fruit cake and obligatory box of Scottish shortbread. This wondrous casket also sometimes contained a very small box of beautifully wrapped fragrant Palma Violets, each topped with an edible bright purple, sugar-crystal. The latter, along with pastel lilac, white, pale turquoise and pink coloured Sugared Almonds, were my Mothers‘s very favourites. I remember her having those every Christmas when I lived at home - they were sacrosanct! They HAD to be with six hungry, constantly growing children!
I still remember the excitement of being told to go up the small straight flight of stairs, at the top of which was a little built-in cupboard. The top shelf always contained the Christmas hamper once it arrived. For even though it sometimes was just a tin of carrots or peas that I was sent to fetch, it meant I could look into that magic hamper with its wonderful array of goodies still to be shared!
It wasn’t for want of my parents trying nor working hard, very hard to provide, but my Dad had been ill for many years so his work was apparently quite spasmodic. He had a kidney problem in the days when dialysis had only just arrived on the medical scene, was very limited and certainly not for general NHS use.
To this day, I still have a hang over from not quite being sure if I will be full enough or have enough food in… it may not seem an understandable or very nice trait in a person of my age, but now at least, at 67, I understand some of why I am like I am.
And need to forgive myself for those characteristics that were formed in early childhood especially. For they just were, and the best was done for all at the time. I know for certain there were lean times in my life as an adult too when married, some VERY lean times when there was no regular wage for years. So no doubt my own sons will both remember periods of eating every possible combination of beef mince, baked beans and tinned tomatoes for dinner! But they too have survived despite my ministrations, I also having done t best for my family…
13/7/25