From Margarine to Maslow: My Experience of Childhood Hunger
After my mum passed away unexpectedly in November 1981, my dad had no choice but to give up his job as a full-time HGV driver to care for his young children. I was only eight years old, the eldest of four, yet I can still vividly remember how our lives changed almost overnight.
That year, we cherished one last magical Christmas, thanks to my mum’s careful planning. She had already ordered our presents through the Littlewoods catalogue before she passed away, ensuring we had a final ‘wow!’ Christmas morning. But the joy was inevitably tinged with sadness, as before we opened our gifts, we visited her grave to lay some flowers.
Although we were luckier than many children living in extreme poverty today, we had a permanent home in good condition, free from pests and vermin – life became much harder.
Memories of Hunger
One of my strongest memories from that time is hunger. Money was always tight. My dad didn’t smoke or drink, and, despite his best efforts, he often had to borrow a few pounds from his siblings to get through the weekends before collecting what was then known as Supplementary Benefit.
I remember one particular Sunday when I was about ten years old. My dad sent my eight-year-old brother and me on a two-mile round trip to borrow some money from my aunt and uncle – “Frannie and George” – before walking to Monty’s grocery store on Rosehill Court Parade.
We bought a loaf of bread, a pack of biscuits, and a tub of Stork SB margarine – maybe some eggs or cheap sausages for dinner. On the way home, hunger got the better of us. But we knew that opening the bread or biscuits would almost certainly result in punishment.
So, in our childish logic, we chose to eat some of the margarine instead. We thought we could smooth it over, and Dad would never know. I can’t recall if we were punished, but I knew even then that we probably deserved it.
Life Without Mum
I always felt loved as a child, but life after Mum’s death was understandably different. My dad suddenly became a single parent, mourning the loss of his 39-year-old wife while raising four children alone. He was a strict disciplinarian – punishment, involving a hand, a slipper, or a belt, was part of growing up. However, we always understood why it happened and that it was preceded by fair warning. At no point did I ever feel I was abused - a point I was to emphasise during a conversation with a police officer some months later.
Looking back, I realise how hard it must have been for him. He did his best, but we still went without. Hunger became a recurring part of my childhood from 8 to 12 years old.
The Lasting Impact
That feeling of not having enough has stayed with me. Even now, as an adult and parent, I see how it has shaped my life. My wife and I probably spend more on food than most families. When we have guests – no matter their age or number – we always buy too much, making sure that nobody ever leaves hungry.
Hunger is a powerful drive. In Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, it is one of the most basic physiological requirements, as essential as air, water, shelter, and sleep. Without food, we simply cannot function.
Hunger in the UK Today
More than 40 years after my childhood experiences, hunger is still a harsh reality for millions of people across the UK.
According to The Trussell Trust (October 2024), a record 9.3 million people face hunger and hardship – including 6.3 million adults and 3 million children. That means one in seven people and one in five children are struggling to get enough to eat.
Final Reflection
When I think back to that hungry walk home with my brother, sneaking margarine to ease the pangs in our stomachs, I am reminded of how deeply food insecurity can affect a child. It leaves lasting scars – not just physical, but emotional too.
No child should ever feel the kind of hunger I experienced. Yet today, in one of the world’s wealthiest countries, millions still do.