The local butcher and me...

The following account was recently handed to me...

"The contact that I had with the local butcher; during my formative years, was probably quite small - but it loomed large in my mind for many years. Perhaps the nature and quality of the contact determined the latter - but looking back it is clear that my sensitive nature was a factor.

What follows may not be chronologically exact, but given the nature of the observations offered that is not felt to be a problem, and it should not detract from the value of the account.

Several things happened that were in combination or individually to account for my aversion to butchers for years to come. 

The first was the creation of a new facility to kill animals after action was taken to do away with the nearby 'old abattoir', which involved the demolition of the butchers shop, abattoir and nearby buildings. 

The new facility was located on an allotment or close by one. I had occasion to pass the place many times, and whilst I do not recall seeing or hearing anything untoward, the fact that I knew the purpose of the building was sufficient to make me hasten my step as I approached it and look over my shoulder at it - as it receded into the distance.

The next thing was more intense. The butcher would place the severed head of a newly slaughtered pig into a prominent place within his shop window. 

Presumably this was some kind of advertisement of the availability of fresh meat, but that did not occur to me until a long time afterwards.

What fascinated me was the hole in the pigs forehead where the humane killer had entered the head of the animal - and killed it. 

The butcher was given to showing me the 'gun' that fired the bolt; and explained that he inserted some kind of metal probe into the hole and worked it about to make sure that the animal was indeed dead.

Fascinated I might have been, but I had nightmares about all aspects of it.

The final thing that I will mention was that the butcher was prone to 'butcher' a dead pig in what for me was a horrendous way. He used to hang the corpse - by its back legs - on hooks in the doorframe of the double entrance doorway of his shop - and then - open the abdomen with a knife - to release the wretched contents that fell into a strategically placed bowl. He would then proceed to divide up the corpse and take the pieces into his shop where he could do more detailed work upon them.

If I was unfortunate enough to have to visit the shop - whilst work was in progress on the corpse - I would have to squeeze past it.

I tried to avoid going near the shop when he was at this aspect of his work - but - he became aware of my squeamishness and played on it whenever he could - at least it seemed that way to me."

The Editor