I don’t remember ever going to bed hungry. Dissatisfied with the monotony of homegrown vegetables and never ending soups. Dissatisfied, yes, but not hungry. Then again, grandparents fed us at least twice a week. That’s probably how Mum & Dad made ends meet in the 70s.

Remember being told how melted cheese rinds on a tin plate was a “special treat” and actually believing it? God, we were naive. Dinners of beans on toast. Or sardines on toast. Or poached egg on toast. Or honey on toast. Lots of toast in the 1970s.

Half a pound minced beef, an onion from the garden, carrots ditto, a can of baked beans, and a spoonful of chili powder. I thought that was chili con carne. Why would Mum lie to us? Because that’s all the housekeeping ran to.