STORIES - Killing
As a boy killing animals for food was a part of life, I can remember being taken to the local abattoir and watching a calf being killed. I am not sure whether this was on a school excursion or, as my sister worked in the local Butcher Shop, it was just a casual visit. Either way, while I felt sorry for the calf, the killing did not particularly affect, possibly because it was one of my jobs to kill any non-laying chicken, for the table. Remove head with an axe, drain the blood, dip in a copper laundry tub of hot water and feathers removed, then gut. The latter was fascinating, saving the heart, gizzard, liver and searching for un-formed eggs, just yolks, if there were a number we had made a mistake re non-laying, but they were collected anyway and used in cakes. The offal was cooked, the heart and gizzard were fought over by my brother and I, being older he usually won and had which ever he fancied on the day.