Wow - my dad had it harder - he adds in "with only a baked potato to keep me warm" to that story.
Yooouu were lucky...
When I was young, we used to have to get up at 11:00 at night, four hours before we went to bed, crawl out of the swamp, eat a hand full of freezing gravel, work 28 hours a day in the local factory and pay the owner for the privlege. When we would get home, our father would slice us into bits with a bread knife... IF we were lucky
Your dad must have been rich. I mean, we had to eat our potatoes frozen, the only warmth we could infuse into them was from the friction of dragging them behind us on the way to the library!