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When my mother sent me on errands to buy meat, it was always to the butcher's
shop at the corner of Bulwer Road in Edmonton.

The butcher's shop in Silver Street Edmonton, early 1900s. Detail of a larger photo on old
Edmonton page.
See below for an enlargement of the notice about sausages.
This shop was fairly typical of the
other butcher's shops in Edmonton. I had to go there about once a week and it
was usually to get 3/4 of a pound of leg of beef and a 1/4 of a pound of beef
suet for a meat pudding. I was never happy about this errand because my mother
would always tell me to tell the butcher that she didn't want too much sinew.
Yet far too often there was too much for her taste. Then she made me take the meat
back which made me feel uncomfortable.
The suet was bought as a lump and the butcher sometimes cut it out of a side
of beef while I watched. These sides of beef would either be hanging up from
large hooks suspended in the shop or in an ice-safe which was kept cool with
ice supplied by the
ice man.
Sausages were made in full view in a red sausage machine. In at the top would
go the meat (and probably some meal and flavourings as well, although I can't
be sure). Then the butcher would put the skins on the nozzle and turn the handle.
It was fascinating for me to see him take the long string of the emerging sausage
in this hands and with a flip of his fingers make a string of individual sausages.
These would be put over a hook and hung in the shop window.
It was not unusual for bones to be on sale for women to use to flavour their
soups. Lumps of fat were on sale too for rendering down for dripping, which
was a popular meal on its own, spread on a slice of toast.
If you have an old photo which illustrates the
way of life that my mother describes, I would very much appreciate a copy.
Pat Cryer
The butcher had the appearance of a butcher because he was big with a
florid face and he had a belt round his waist which was unusual for other
shop-keepers. He kept the shop beautifully clean with fresh sawdust on the
floor and shiny tiles on the walls. At the end of every day, the chopping
board, which looked rather like a heavy three-legged stool was scrubbed with
a wire brush and then washed. The chopper and knives had the same treatment.
The day's sawdust, which had absorbed or coated spills, was swept up and new
was put down.
My mother didn't stay with one butcher. She loved looking at meat in butchers'
shops. She would say, "That’s a lovely bit of beef", etc. I wouldn’t have known.