Starting from the time when he was five and three quarter years old my youngest brother Martyn would get up at 5:45 a.m. each day to cook breakfast for his eight siblings and our parents. Thanks to Martyn we would feast on eggs, bacon, lamb cutlets, baked beans, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, and toast every single morning.
I would have been “up and at it” at 4:00 a.m. to bake the eleven loaves of bread we ate each day. As the dough was rising I would churn the butter, and grind the coffee.
Dear brother Stephen would forgo his school lunch break. Instead he would ride his bike to deliver freshly made sandwiches to his brothers and sisters at their schools, and to our Dad at work.
Thanks to Mum we feasted each evening. Roast beef on Sunday, Lamb on Monday, Pork on Tuesday, Ham on Wednesday, Goose on Thursday, Lobster on Friday,and Spam on Saturday. Dessert would always be an overflowing plate filled with fresh fruit and scrumptious cheeses.
No matter what time we called out during the night, our Dad would bring us a dish filled with fresh peaches and ice-cream. I weep at the memory.
The sacrifices Martyn, Stephen, Dad, Mum and I made were so worthwhile. They enabled our four sisters to train as welders, and our other two brothers to enjoy their ballet lessons.