"Chris started it because he was four years ahead of Paddy at school," says Pat, "He didn't have a great appetite, but he found he could sell school dinners. In those days you weren't portion controlled so he'd get a trayful and sell it to whoever approached him!"

Four years on, Paddy joined his brother at school and immediately spotted a gap in the market, "He started eating school dinners for people who would have got into trouble for not eating it."

There was, according to Pat, a sliding scale of charges depending what had to be eaten. "Bland food such as potatoes and scrambled eggs were one penny - old pennies, that is - brussels sprouts and cabbage were threepence. For Sago pudding, known as 'frogs' spawn', he could get sixpence." Pat reckons her sons must have pocketed about eight shillings a week, which was no mean amount then. Her sons' business acumen didn't stop at food, "They did homework as well," says Pat "Maths and French would cost sixpence, physics was a shilling. They graded their charges according to the difficulty of the subject."

Occasionally, however, Pat would find herself at the end of her children's early abilities at fund raising. One evening returning home quite late she found the front door locked. The key wouldn't turn. Then she spotted a note, "Unless our demands are met, you're not coming in, " it stated, "Dad is being held a hostage." The 'demands' were later bedtimes, more freedom and much much more pocket money than they were already getting. So did Pat agree to their conditions? "I certainly did! I wanted to get in. Their father's six foot four and if he can't look after himself against four little children, that's a poor do!"