In the mid-1990s, as a young single mum with two kids under five, I lived on £51 a week. Budgets were tight: a fiver for the gas, a fiver for the electric, £4 each for the phone, council tax and nappies. After food, there was barely anything left. This was a time when single parents were the scourge of the welfare state, the benefit system pushing us to the furthest edges of society.

There were few luxuries. The accidents of family life could lead to financial disaster. No wet wipes in the bag after a little one spilled their drink or wet themselves in the park could blow the budget for a week. Being caught out at the time of the month could break the bank. This was long before period poverty was a thing.

That’s what made a McDonald's Happy Meal such a treat. Sat on moulded plastic seats, sipping coffee, I watched my babies munch fries, their faces shiny with anticipation for the toy that was not always crap. This was not about nutrition. It was not about filling them up; it was absolutely not about the peace of sharing a meal. It was about belonging. Just for a moment, sat in all that noise and chatter, it was about belonging to a society that had no place for us.

I know McDonald’s is not without its problems. And more than once, I’ve received snobbish, judgmental comments about taking my kids there. There’s a superiority, a looking down the nose, that sometimes feels less like political awareness and more like a sly dig at class. But here’s the thing: there’s a big difference in terms of power and social capital between choosing to boycott a brand or space, and being excluded because of poverty.

And that’s what poverty does. It excludes you.

I could never afford a holiday. I was never going to be able to take my kids to a theme park or the zoo. There were trips to the library and the free museum, endless days in the town park, but rarely money for ice creams or buns. Bus fare was budgeted for one way, when little legs were too tired to make it home.

But for 99p, just in that moment, dipping dippers in tomato ketchup, my kids were not shut out of the world for being poor.