The Butcher’s Boy…

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When I was about 10 years old I worked for Tommy, the Co-op’s mobile butcher in Carlisle. On a Saturday I was his door knocker. It was probably the only job I have had that I was intellectually capable of doing. Job description…… walk up to the house, occasionally jump over the fence, watch out for dogs (usually not a problem cos. in those days dogs just roamed the streets), knock smartly on the door and shout butcher! Why did everything have to get so complicated when I grew up? Tommy was a tight sod and I got paid 2 bob (10 pence in today’s money although it was obs. worth a lot more then). If he was in a really good mood I got Half a Crown. Despite that one of the customers did not like me because she wanted her own son to have my job. In the end I packed it in and he got it and bragged about how much he got paid. Maybe Tommy turned generous all of a sudden or maybe the lad was embarrassed about the truth of his pathetic hourly rate. Tommy did a good line in tomato sausage which one customer gave raw to her tiny daughter as a treat – you couldn’t make it up could you? Stories don’t need to be huge to tell a tale. Interested in a video of your mum’s or dad’s life? Ring Howard on 07795 252797 /email

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