It was New Year's Eve 1975. I arrived home to my mum's worried face.
"We've had a power cut," she said. "I don't know how long it willlast."
We ate an uncooked steak pie to celebrate the arrival of 1976. The"power cut" lasted a year. The truth was that my parents, unable to paythe bill, had watched as some heartless git from the electricity boardcut it off.
After that, I wore ill-fitting jumble-sale clothes to school, althoughmy aunt let my mum wash our clothes once a week. But meals were cookedon a camping stove and we sat round a paraffin heater in the evening,the room illuminated by candlelight. My brother singed his hair and ateacher noticed, but did nothing. My clothes stank and my teeth werefilthy, and a teacher berated me in front of the class.
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