When I was five years old and my sister Angel was four we went out for Hallowe’en as ghosts. Mum cut a bed sheet in half and then cut two eye holes in each half. We were ghosts (perhaps floral patterned ghosts…I am not sure).

It is the only Hallowe’en I remember.

This is significant to me. My mum. Single-parent mum. Welfare mum. The best mum in the world mum. She couldn’t afford to go out and buy costumes with masks…so we had sheets. It never occurred to me when I was five that this should disappoint me and so it did not. It never occurred to me when I was five to be bothered by being poor and so it did not. It never occurred to me when I was five that somehow I may have been lacking for something and so it did not.

These things did not occur to me until others suggested they should.

I did not know I was poor until others pointed it out. At this point something was stolen from me. A proud innocence. A value of simply being me in a family with a mum and sisters. There was no need for anything else.

I remember one Hallowe’en. I was a ghost. I was a sheet with eye holes cut out. I was loved by a mum and this was better than anything ever in the whole wide world. The best treat and treasure a boy could ask for.

I remember one Hallowe’en. I was a ghost…the best ghost in the world.