Think YOU had it tough?
Our family was poor. We envied people who lived in trailer parks and council flats. We lived in a stolen garden shed that dad had placed by the side of a river and stocked with furniture he'd found in a local canal. Gypsy kids made fun of us - that's how bad it was. A typical day might go like this:

6.00am - woken up by a plank or similar object being applied to our sleeping forms by dad, who'd been up all night sniffing permanent markers and drinking homemade potato vodka.
6.15 - a thorough beating before breakfast, which consisted of whatever dad had managed to steal the night before. It was usually pizza or discarded doner kebab. Once, we had a hedgehog he tried to pass off as a 'road chicken'.
7.00 - mum wanders in after a night on the game. She gives her money to dad and has a quick beating before finishing off what's left of breakfast.
7.30 - we run to school behind dad in the car. He won't let us sit inside because it'll "make us soft". And he won't give us our shoes until we get to school.
8.00 - picked on and bulied by other kids until it's time to start lessons. Fight back the only way we know how: with five quid's worth of ten pence pieces in a sock, and a brass knuckle duster.
12.00 - if not in the police cells again, we eat our pack lunches. Dad thinks it's hilarious to surprise us with something unusual. One time, I opened my Tupperware to discover a spanner and a pair of lady's sheepskin gloves.
3.30 - If not expelled, run home to see what dad has stolen for tea. More often than not, he's unconscious in a pool of vomit or waiting to be bailed out down the station.
4.00 - start minng. Dad thinks if we dig deep enough, we'll find a seam of gold or platinum. In fact, the shed topples into a muddy hole and we have to spend the rest of the month living a partially aquatic life.
(frankspencer, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 10:49, Reply)