Now they had mince stew, and not enough of it, and curly kale, and a spoonful of mashed potato without any butter, and once a week a bread pudding to use up the crusts.Sometimes they had sago. Of all the puddings in the world, he hated sago most.
He was a skinny boy. As well as being hungry he was greedy, which got him into trouble so bad that he could have ended up in a hole down by the creek. He did end up with a broken arm, but that healed quickly. It took longer for other things to heal but we must not get ahead of our story, which begins on the day his mother gave him bread and dripping and sent him outside. He ate it, although it was the sort of thing you fed the fowls.
There was a bit of meat flavour in the dripping, from Grandma's road of beef which they had shared last Sunday. Grandma's was the only place he got a feed these days meat and gravy, roast potatoes, jelly and blancmange and a glass of milk. The trouble was it only happened every two or three weeks.
