Jellied Eels and Zeppelins by Sue Taylor Page A
Authors: Sue Taylor
Tags: History, War, Memoirs
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mouth outbreak during the 1960’s.
We used to send up to one dozen pigs off for slaughter at a time - depending on how many was ready. The slaughter men allowed you what they called ‘the pluck’ - that was the lungs and the heart and all that - reasonably cheaply. And we had the pigs’ heads as well. The pigs were weighed and we were sent how much they were worth. If we wanted a dead pig, we marked it with special ink. We used to hang the carcass in the doorway. Once the meat was cut up, I used to weigh it and mark who it was to be sold to - this was mostly at Christmas time. We used to get orders from Cousin Flo’s firm. My friend, who taught me to drive, had the pig’s head and she made brawn with it. It was beautiful. She used to bring us three of four pots of gorgeous brawn, which we ate with bread and butter, ham and tomatoes and all that. It was lovely.
Two days before Christmas, Joe and I used to load up our van and drive to London to sell the meat. Once, we were returning to Doddinghurst at about three in the morning, when we were stopped by a policeman in Woodford Green. He asked what we had in the back of the van. We told him that there was a pig’s head. He didn’t believe us at first but after he’d checked us out, he let us go refusing our offer of the pig’s head!
I used to like the piglets, but once they went into the second sty to be fattened up, I didn’t want to know them. I did however, become very fond of one piglet, which I named Tina. Tina was the runt of a litter, so I kept her indoors for a while to feed her by hand. I even house-trained her. She used to love chocolate buttons, which she was often given by campers who came to buy eggs from us. We kept her for breeding.
One sow, which was pregnant when we got her, had 24 piglets and was only able to feed 12 at a time, so I fed the others every two hours with dried milk and milk from my goat, Nan, who would only allow me to milk her. She always used to give me a kiss when I went to feed her. Cousin Les had come to see me on his birthday and was helping me with Nan. She thought that she would give him a kiss too. He thought that she was going to butt him, stepped backwards and fell into the brook! He was soaked!
We bought our own boar a couple of years after starting our business. The boar usually served the sows twice a year. When close to giving birth, we put the sow into a furrowing crate, so that she didn’t crush the piglets. We stayed with her while she was giving birth in case there were any complications. We lost very few piglets.
Nan, Ethel’s goat
Joe had a very clean mind and would never swear nor tell a dirty joke in front of me. He didn’t think it right for a woman to see the boar and sow together, so I had to stand with my back to them after I’d helped him get the boar into the stall. When Joe said ‘ready’, I had to unbolt the door to let the boar out, but on one occasion, this big sow wanted to follow ‘im. She caught Joe unawares and charged right between his legs, so the sow was facing one way and Joe the other. She rushed out of the stall, looking for the boar and poor Joe had his fingers scraped on the silver birch tree.
My chap was six feet two, but that sow took ‘im clean off his feet. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen and I couldn’t do anything for laughing, I just couldn’t, but he cried ‘Don’t just stand there, help me!’ He eventually fell off just near the house, but he wasn’t pleased at all, I can tell you!
We fed the pigs with Tottenham Pudding
(the product of boiling lots of kitchen waste - including potato peelings and pea shells - from London
) - like a lump of black dough stuff, in a drum it was, we used to buy it in. The chickens loved it too. It made them lay lovely tasty eggs.
We used to get the swill from a school in Brentwood, an old People’s Home and from shops in the High Street - vegetables and peelings - and leftovers that farmers were unable to sell at market.
We used to send up to one dozen pigs off for slaughter at a time - depending on how many was ready. The slaughter men allowed you what they called ‘the pluck’ - that was the lungs and the heart and all that - reasonably cheaply. And we had the pigs’ heads as well. The pigs were weighed and we were sent how much they were worth. If we wanted a dead pig, we marked it with special ink. We used to hang the carcass in the doorway. Once the meat was cut up, I used to weigh it and mark who it was to be sold to - this was mostly at Christmas time. We used to get orders from Cousin Flo’s firm. My friend, who taught me to drive, had the pig’s head and she made brawn with it. It was beautiful. She used to bring us three of four pots of gorgeous brawn, which we ate with bread and butter, ham and tomatoes and all that. It was lovely.
Two days before Christmas, Joe and I used to load up our van and drive to London to sell the meat. Once, we were returning to Doddinghurst at about three in the morning, when we were stopped by a policeman in Woodford Green. He asked what we had in the back of the van. We told him that there was a pig’s head. He didn’t believe us at first but after he’d checked us out, he let us go refusing our offer of the pig’s head!
I used to like the piglets, but once they went into the second sty to be fattened up, I didn’t want to know them. I did however, become very fond of one piglet, which I named Tina. Tina was the runt of a litter, so I kept her indoors for a while to feed her by hand. I even house-trained her. She used to love chocolate buttons, which she was often given by campers who came to buy eggs from us. We kept her for breeding.
One sow, which was pregnant when we got her, had 24 piglets and was only able to feed 12 at a time, so I fed the others every two hours with dried milk and milk from my goat, Nan, who would only allow me to milk her. She always used to give me a kiss when I went to feed her. Cousin Les had come to see me on his birthday and was helping me with Nan. She thought that she would give him a kiss too. He thought that she was going to butt him, stepped backwards and fell into the brook! He was soaked!
We bought our own boar a couple of years after starting our business. The boar usually served the sows twice a year. When close to giving birth, we put the sow into a furrowing crate, so that she didn’t crush the piglets. We stayed with her while she was giving birth in case there were any complications. We lost very few piglets.
Nan, Ethel’s goat
Joe had a very clean mind and would never swear nor tell a dirty joke in front of me. He didn’t think it right for a woman to see the boar and sow together, so I had to stand with my back to them after I’d helped him get the boar into the stall. When Joe said ‘ready’, I had to unbolt the door to let the boar out, but on one occasion, this big sow wanted to follow ‘im. She caught Joe unawares and charged right between his legs, so the sow was facing one way and Joe the other. She rushed out of the stall, looking for the boar and poor Joe had his fingers scraped on the silver birch tree.
My chap was six feet two, but that sow took ‘im clean off his feet. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen and I couldn’t do anything for laughing, I just couldn’t, but he cried ‘Don’t just stand there, help me!’ He eventually fell off just near the house, but he wasn’t pleased at all, I can tell you!
We fed the pigs with Tottenham Pudding
(the product of boiling lots of kitchen waste - including potato peelings and pea shells - from London
) - like a lump of black dough stuff, in a drum it was, we used to buy it in. The chickens loved it too. It made them lay lovely tasty eggs.
We used to get the swill from a school in Brentwood, an old People’s Home and from shops in the High Street - vegetables and peelings - and leftovers that farmers were unable to sell at market.
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