The Day I Encountered Food Poverty

  • Spring 1987

My new primary school was in the middle of our council estate. Every child there lived in a council house and the range of wealth was very narrow. In my class there were a few kids whose parents were rich enough to buy branded trainers; there were a few kids whose parents were too poor to buy food; most of us were somewhere between.

Before starting the first lesson of the morning, the teacher would walk around the classroom selling biscuits for 2p. The idea was to stop rumbling stomachs by making sure every child had some food inside them, especially those who’d not been given breakfast at home. The teacher contrived a way of giving biscuits to any child that didn’t have 2p. “Oh, that one’s fallen out the pack; you’d better have that one, save it going in the bin.” The teacher knew which kids were not being fed at home, but you can’t selectively hand out biscuits and identify children whose parents can’t afford food.

One custard cream was a stop-gap. The hunger problem was properly addressed at lunchtime. Everyone in my class qualified for a free school meal.

I had a friend called Robert. He was built like a jockey’s whip yet he would pack away huge quantities of food at lunchtime. He would always go back for seconds, even if the dinner ladies were serving the last dregs of cold mash potato. Thursday was bangers-and-mash day and Robert would go up for thirds. 6 sausages in total! We made fun of him because of his slight stature, “where do you put it all?” we’d joke.

At home one evening my mom was cooking some sausages for our family dinner.
“How many sausages do you want?” mom asked.
I’d never been asked this before. “4 please,” I said, in a surprised tone.
Mom laughed, “You can’t eat 4. There’s only 8 for all of us. I meant do you want 1 or 2.”
“I could eat 4,” I protested, “my friend Robert has 6 for lunch.”
“Robert eats 6 because it’s the only meal he gets,” mom replied hastily.

Mom looked mortified about what she’d just said. I was puzzled because I didn’t understand the implication. She bent down to whisper in my ear - even though there was no one else in the kitchen, it’s not the done thing to talk of other people’s poverty.
“When Robert goes home ... he doesn’t always get an evening meal.”

It was a moment where the innocence of my childhood was shattered. I can only compare it to the first time someone tells you Santa doesn’t exist. A sudden cocktail of emotions - the shock of the truth, anger at being lied to and the embarrassment of being so gullible. The truth was always there: some children starve. I knew that from watching the news. I just didn’t expect children in the UK to go hungry. A glimpse of the horrors of life came into view.

I still didn’t really understand. I was 9-years-old and had always come home to a hot dinner. There’d be an argument about eating my greens, I’d throw a tantrum and storm off, cave when the hunger pains started, then climb down into eating my dinner after a hard-fought diplomatic agreement with my mom over how much cabbage I must eat.

I was just a child; I couldn’t conceive of a world where other children didn’t have the same experience.


Some adults also find it infeasible to think of a family that cannot afford food. A can of soup is only 40p so if you can’t afford to feed your family you must be buying the more-expensive ready meals. But this logic comes from someone who doesn’t understand the problems caused by poverty.

When you live in poverty life is all about survival.
Survival experts teach priorities using the rule of 3.

You can survive:

  • 3 minutes without air.
  • 3 hours without shelter.
  • 3 days without water.
  • 3 weeks without food.

Notice that food is at the bottom of that list. You don’t need to eat today. You don’t even need to eat this week. However, one night out in the cold - even with a full stomach - can be fatal. That is why in a survival situation you build a shelter before going to look for water and food. And it is why paying your rent comes before buying food.

My mom understood the rule of 3. She was taught the priorities of housekeeping from my grandma: put your rent money to one side first, then cover your utility bills, “when you know that’s paid you can be comfortable, even if all you've got to eat is a piece of toast.”

It can be difficult to believe that a working family can have an income yet not afford food, but keep in mind:

  1. Your wages must cover your rent before you can buy food.
  2. The cost of rent does not decrease in proportion to your income.

Rent accounts for over half of a poor family’s income and, after paying utility bills, that can leave nothing for food. That’s when you have to choose between heating and eating.

Middle class people are naturally ignorant of the problems of poverty. “If you’re on low earnings it must be because you didn’t try hard enough at school. Lack of budgeting skills are to blame if there’s no money for food.” It’s simply impossible to not afford holidays, Nike trainers, haircuts or hot water. This is an easy trap to fall into when you haven’t had to choose between food and shelter.