I WILL never forget the little boy whose face lit up when I placed his grubby feet into a pair of over-sized boots.

I was in Bosnia with some aid workers, visiting families on a roadside gypsy camp. As well as handing out food and toiletries we’d bought from a nearby supermarket, we took shoes that we’d brought over in our suitcases, from donations back in Bradford.

I spent time with a family living in a cramped hut. The father, who I learned was going out of his mind with desperation, was out scavenging on rubbish tips with his older children - with the fall-out of the Bosnian war still being felt, work was scarce and the poorest people, living on the margins, were left to scratch around for scraps to sell.

The emaciated-looking mother was looking after several young children. One of them was the little boy who grinned at me while I laced up the boots we gave him. They were clumpy, old-fashioned and too big for his little feet. My young nephews back home, in their fancy trainers, wouldn’t have gone near them.

This family had nothing, barely even a place to live, and I felt an overwhelming urge to give them everything I had. When you’re face-to-face with that kind of poverty, it hits you like a punch in the stomach.

I returned from Bosnia cynical about the relative wealth and waste in the UK, and the things we take for granted - like shoes. Any poverty here was nothing like that gypsy camp, or other areas of Bosnia I visited where I met old people living in cow sheds, neglected and bereaved by the war, relying on food parcels from an American nun who single-handedly collected donations, (with notably little help from local churches).

A decade later, I still believe the poverty I witnessed in rural Bosnia doesn’t exist in the UK. We don’t have barefoot children scavenging on rubbish tips or young families living in makeshift huts with rusty tin roofs, and thank goodness for that.

But there is poverty here - one in five people in the UK are living below the official poverty line - and children go hungry. Any food bank volunteer will tell you of families struggling to put meals on the table.

This week the T&A reported that Bradford Metropolitan Food Bank is at breaking point, handing out more food parcels than ever before. The charity is making over 1,000 monthly distributions across the district - compared with 28 when it started in 2004. Treasurer Keith Thomson told me various factors, not least benefit changes and zero hours contracts, have led to rising demand. Many people receiving food parcels have jobs, but can’t cope with food prices and private rent increases. The cost of living is rising higher than incomes. “For many people, it’s a case of having a roof over their head or food on their table,” said Keith.

The food bank faces a desperate summer, with funds dwindling and food donations from regular contributors, including schools, drying up over the holiday period. Yet, for many families who rely on free school meals, the long summer break is a desperate time.

How shameful that, in the 21st century, food banks are commonplace and “holiday hunger” is a reality for some children. Most of us will have felt the pinch of austerity, but struggling to provide food for your family is something else.

Shortly after the T&A’s food bank report this week, Keith Thomson was offered two cheques from readers. It’s a sobering sign of the times that it is left to the kindness of strangers, the likes of you and I, to help feed those in need this summer.

* WOULD you marry yourself? Last Saturday about 40 women did just that, at Bradford's City Hall. In "a stand against pressures and expectations facing women in society", they walked down the aisle, to various choices of music, from punk to South Asian Sufi, and made wedding vows to themselves. At the reception afterwards, there was a 'first dance' for the new brides. It was celebrated as a happy, empowering event for women, who, said organiser Latifa Bari, do everything for other people but neglect themselves.

Nice idea, but once the confetti has blown away what are you left with? If it's anything like a regular marriage, the honeymoon period will fade and you'll end up detesting the sound of your own breathing, Maybe self-divorce will follow...

* I FEEL for animals in this sweltering weather. Dogs and cats don't know what to do with themselves, flopping about, panting in the heat. Pets can burn their paws on hot pavements and are at increased risk of heatstroke, which can be fatal, the RSPCA warned.

I often join my sister for evening dog walks, when it's cooler, and it's been lovely to see her playful dog discover the joy of swimming in a woodland pool. When we turn to go it's like tearing a child away from the swings; he races back and leaps in the water. Then, inevitably, he shakes it all off within an inch of us!