Playing alone in my bedroom not long after my second birthday, little pangs of hunger led me to wander down the hallway looking for my mother so she could get me something to eat. Through the glass doors in the dining room, I saw her outside, reaching up to hang washing on the single wire clothesline which stretched most of the way across the yard, propped up by a ‘Y’ shaped pole.

Not wanting to disturb her, I decided to get something to eat by myself, but I couldn’t reach up to open the fridge or the cupboard doors. I had an idea and headed to the bathroom, where I carefully climbed up the side of the bath, onto the vanity cabinet and stood up. Through the lace curtains, I could see Mum was still at the clothesline.

I slid open the little mirrored door above the sink and reached inside to grab a small brown bottle. Sitting down on the bathroom floor, I opened the bottle (there were no child-proof lids in those days) and one by one I ate all the sweet, tingly pieces.

When I went outside to play, Mum asked if I was ready for lunch and I told her I wasn’t hungry, as I’d eaten all the sweets. Perplexed as there were no sweets in the house, Mum asked me to show her which ones. Dutifully I took her to the bathroom and pointed to the empty bottle of vitamin C tablets.

I was rushed to the children’s hospital and when the doctor escorted me out of the treatment room, I was overjoyed to see Mum and my grandparents waiting for me. They picked me up and wrapped me in warm hugs and kisses while warning me to never do that again.

“She’s just had her stomach pumped, which is not very pleasant,” said the doctor. “She probably won’t want to eat for a few days.”

On our way home, Mum half-heartedly asked if I wanted anything to eat for dinner. “Fish and chips!” I shouted excitedly. She was dubious about whether I could eat but bought them anyway. Much to her surprise and relief, it didn’t take me long to finish everything on my plate. My little pangs of hunger had returned…