The butcher the baker and the rag and bone man who rings his bell and shouts ‘any old iron?’. I know you were waiting for the candlestick maker but this is 2014 not 1814. The supermarket experience in the UK is made up of going to the butcher, the baker and others. Yes, we do have supermarkets but we don’t do Costco or Sam’s club. Going to the butcher for the first time was a bit intimidating. There was meat everywhere perfectly tied with string. A fly buzzed hazily and the butcher behind the counter was burly and butch with thick sausage like fingers. He wore a kind gap toothed smile and wiped blood on his apron. Get. Me. Out. Seemed to resonate through my body as any thoughts of being a vegetarian were quickly dashed.
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