DAN MACKAY: Energy prices being a hot topic is nothing new
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Then there was the time dad tried to kill us. Albeit with some compassion.
It was that horrible winter of discontent back in the 70s when the trade unions were on strike. The country was subjected to a series of power cuts, people were freezing, uncollected garbage was piling up on the streets, inflation was going through the roof and the then Labour Prime Minister, Jim Callaghan, was struggling to bring the country back on an even keel…
Sound familiar?
Ancillary workers formed blockades outside hospitals, even the gravediggers mounted protests as the government fell to a vote of no confidence. Deja vu?
And now we have the catastrophic Trussonomics sending the UK economy into free fall. Despite the best efforts of the new Chancellor, Jeremey Hunt, who has reversed every one of the former premier’s budget pledges, things look set to get worse. And when people realise the astronomical impact on their monthly mortgages, we are all going to be deep in pooh.
I guess in his own way dad was our household chancellor and his first concern was to bring some warmth to our chilly Willowbank home. Back then very few houses had central heating. We had a combination of coal fires, gas and electric heaters. And when temperatures plummeted, as they often did in those days, we would throw coats over our bed clothes for an extra layer of insulation.
Interestingly the big scientific concern in those days, I kid you not, were dire warnings of another ice age. Honest!
But then dad had a brainwave! And a new generation of Valor paraffin heaters were bought for our rooms. They had a brilliant safety feature which meant that if they ever got accidentally knocked over a safety clamp would automatically trigger and immediately extinguish the burning wick so, in theory, it was a sound investment.
Ever attentive to our welfare needs he also ensured that each paraffin tank had a copious portion of soda crystals which, it was said, reduced the smelly and toxic fumes the heaters emitted.
I remember that fateful morning when we woke in our bedroom. I shared with my two brothers Thomas and Alexander at the time. First to say we actually woke up…because I swear we were moments from death.
We three brothers woke gasping to clear our parched, swollen and clogged throats. Just trying to cough or splutter was almost impossible.
Our pet budgie, Joey, had been less successful. His two feet were all that we could see poking up from the bottom of his cage. The noxious fumes had claimed their first victim during the night... His talons pointed to the heavens in a final act of resigned benediction. Poor Joey.
We must have been moments ourselves from the pearly gates. The room had a nice toasty warmth to it. No doubt aided by a closed window and complete lack of ventilation! The wood chip wallpaper was drenched with condensation and peeling off the walls. But our numbers were not yet up…
A customer came in dad’s Ensign Shop newsagents later that morning asking for candles. “Is it for a birthday cake?” mum asked innocently.
“No, for the electric!” came the emphatic reply.
It was a sign of the times. The paraffin heaters got the heave.
