Hi Kids this FIRST PARAGRAPH is an extra bit before I send it off for website use.
2 days ago Queen Elizabeth 2nd died age 96. I mention this because it’s a big deal for many in Scotland and the United Kingdom and further afield. I was born in 1955, she became Queen in 1953, so as a symbol she had been around all of my life. Her image an ever present reminder – stamps, coins, jubilees!
There will for ever be a debate around pro or anti monarchy – you can catch up with that as you get older.
We now have a new king – King Charles 3rd. We will see how it goes. You will benefit from the pending conversations and analysis of this. Or not!
Now, with a little tut-tut and irony, to write about poverty in this broken, crumbling country.
So, back to main business.
Bonnie weans, here is my second contribution to a flimsy consideration of food banks. I hope one day you will take a view, your own, about the existence of these ‘banks, why the current government keep them as a symbol of their control of the ‘poor folks’. A group of people growing in size every day it seems. Across the UK between 1 in 4 and 1 in 3 kids in poverty – they can’t afford food – and more adults about to join them as the ‘heating v’s eating ‘debate grows. Yep, look it up sometime.
In this column I want to mention a personal collision I have had with such services over the years.
I recall in 1962/3 we were living in one of many very temporary rented houses outside Inverness. We were a quartet then, mum still with us, to the end of ’63 anyway. Every two days, maybe three, dad would come home from, well I suppose work, with a small box of silver tins, label free, tins. The same tins as you buy today. Mum made a bit of fun about it – what was inside the tin? They all looked the same. We would give them a shake, ah, sound different, but play ‘guess the contents’. That was the staple food for a few months, didn’t know they were from a charitable source but we were excited every time they cam home – and guess the contents! Tinned potatoes, peach slices, spaghetti in sauce, mixed fruit cocktail. The spam tin was different, flat and oblong.
If you got a cherry in the mixed fruit, wahoo!
Whatever, looking back we were very grateful, I remember the chat and the mood it raised.
Why did ordinary people exist like this? No idea! It was how things were!
In the early seventies, we stayed in a flat in Lochend, Edinburgh. Not a lot of furniture but ok. It was our first house in Edinburgh away from the temporary rooms, flats, small hotelsI. I was 15 years, sister 13, mum long passed in 1983 – story for another time – Teenagers need what we needed I guess. Dad had 3 jobs, worked his holidays, we applied for free school lunches. He accessed a food bank, tins and dried food that kept us going and dad would have wee chats about how grateful we should be, point well made and taken to this day. One point was that we kept it to ourselves – again, vulnerable teenagers.
Another example, In the late ‘60s, me 11/12 years, Mhairi 9 years old, we enjoyed free lunches, had to put up with a bit of teasing but there were quite a few in the schools Mhairi and I went to different secondary school – continued benefiting from the service. In fact it lasted all the way through to end of secondary school
For a wee while, Mhairi and I also had free lunches during school holidays – along with a dozen or so others – it was usual school fare but lots of it available . Two inch – yes, inches – thick yellow sponge with jam and coconut on top, then custard of a thickness as yet unknown to the space race. And the dinner ladies were just good people, kind and happy. Another phase where we benefited. Thanks ladies, it mattered.
In the middle of this there was another source of help that I used, this time to get some clothes. Mhairi seemed to get hand me downs form a number of girls. Me less so. Not from girls anyway.
However this volunteer run office in George street Edinburgh called the School Exchange’ was where school wear – trousers, shorts, shirts, jumpers, coats -were donated, mostly from the private school in Edinburgh, embroidered badges on the frontage a clue or two.
None the less one could buy a quality shirt or plain pullover, always grey, for 10 pence – so just after decimilisation in 1971 – but used the exchange for about 2 years. Up to then – a good old florin – look it up!! Taking name tags off, some school badges and so on. Shoes popped up from time to time. It was odd being a growing teenager, self conscious with second hand clothes. I never told anyone.
I was aware of being grateful then and still am to this day.
There were lots of intermediate stories and moments but I am so aware of how we benefited in these times.
One Christmas, dad and mum had sat us down and on Christmas Eve explained that this Christmas there would be no presents or dinner. Of course we nodded and pretended we understood..
There was knock at the door, it was the postman who was delivering a recorded mail – usually that meant bad news in our world. Leave the house…etc.
On this occasion it was letter from my Dad’s old army contacts – Canadian army based in of course Canada. Inside was a cheque for £12.00 . Dad had written to the ex-soldiers support fund for help and they sent a small donation. Worth about £60.00 then I would guess.
Happiness. We took a bus into Inverness, bought some food and Mhairi and I got to visit Santa, the days last visits in the big store.
From nothing to something – it made us happy, happy, happy. Things have a way……..
So, I give what I can to those open today, and will remain grateful for all time to this who helped us in the past.
Help all and everything you can…serve forward, it will be what it is, it’s only all good.
Mum died the following year.
The three of us continued the journey. Many so called adventures in hand. Bless you mum.