When I was growing up my best friend was Joy. Joy’s father, worked for a wholesale butcher
and dinner at her house always meant great big portions of meat. I remember listening to her parents
discussing what meat they would need over Christmas; a turkey, a leg of pork
and beef brisket. “Will that do, or
should we have some ham as well?” her mum asked. In my house meat was strictly rationed, we
had a turkey at Christmas and that lasted for a week.
My own Dad was a baker and when I was little he started work very early
every morning in the bakery of a local department store, making bread and cakes
for the restaurant. What this meant for
us kids was that we invariably had cream cakes for tea; the day’s
leftovers. I was the envy of many of my friends and I often invited Joy home to tea. Joy loved a cream cake. I, on the
other hand, hated cream. The sight of
thick, white, whipped cream on a lip would quite make me heave. My favourite was always an iced bun,
commonly called a Sticky Willy, but we didn’t do common in my house. Even Spotted Dick was called Spotted Dog at home. I first saw the name Spotted Dick on the school canteen menu. "Is that the same as Spotted Dog?" I asked my friends.
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