When I was a child, I never thought that my family was poor.
I’ve learnt from books and TV that being poor meant staying in terribly small and dirty spaces, or not even have a roof at all.
It also meant not having electricity and water at home and always having to go hungry because there’s no food.
I never had any of that.
There was always food available when I got hungry, and I always had a warm bed to return to at night.
The first time I realised that my family was different was when I was in secondary school.
My dad sent me to school every day, and his hardy lorry stood out from the rest of the luxury cars that were lining up to enter the school gates.
Being a self-conscious teenager eager to impress everyone around me, this visible difference hit me like a ton of bricks.