Yorkshire 1950's Butcher's Market Stall

Centre stage: a white slab displays the cuts from recent cattle kill. Fresh meat show boosted to brightest red with the Salox dye. Prime joints at some shillings a piece – argue the toss. But make sure tis wrapped in front of you. And check your change; refuse the farthings. Waiting in the wings are lesser players lining up to provide for the purse of the poor. Brown bunnies, with string bound hind legs, dangle head down from metal hooks. Once, warm soft fur - life and freedom. Now, cold hard chrome - death and profit. In a white tiled corner there slump gut bags bulging with boiled down blood. They are marked up: ‘black puds - tuppence - half doz’. Their neighbours are many and mostly lower class. Some end scrags of vertebrae. Oxtails, sad and heaped in a white enamel tray, browned off, awaiting offers. But on the lighter side of the offal fringe there are bleached white flops of honeycomb flesh. Beast stomachs galore. Fresh tripe. The butcher is always jolly and with the gift of the gab. He stands confident in his uniform. A white apron with blue bands and random splats of red.