In June I took two lambs to Gloucester abattoir. One was for our own freezer and one for a neighbour’s; The slaughter cost for what is called ‘Own kill,’ is now £23, well up on last year. After hanging for a week, I could have picked up the carcasses and cut one up for myself,
However, because Wallers in Ledbury already take lambs from us, I asked the abattoir to drop them off on their next visit to Ledbury. Nathan Waller then cut them up as he is much better at butchery than I am. The lambs, which kill-out at around 48%, weighed 20.5kg and graded at U3L.
After collecting the packaged lambs from the Homend Shop, I spotted a parking spot opposite and so popped into Colin Thorne the barber. He cut my hair and I went home, dropping off one of the lambs on the way..
Nathan will normally put various cuts into medium-sized bags prior to putting the total into a larger one. This time however, instead of the big bag, he put the various bags into large trays and without another thought I placed the smaller bags into the chest freezer and pushed the freeze button.
It was Sunday morning when my grievous error was revealed. Marie came into the kitchen holding a three-kilo bag of solid minced lamb and a look on her face that said. “What am I expected to do with this.” In fact, those were exactly the words she actually uttered. But, and all husbands will know this, the nuances of the voice were also clearly saying, ‘Do not reply, as things can only get worse.” I stayed quiet!
Readers will have already guessed that all the other cuts were likewise, frozen into shapes and lumps too large to be used in meals for just two.
By the time you are reading this my misdemeanour will have been resolved by the judicious use of a band saw. Such a saw, used mainly for cutting wood or metals, can be a boon for any errant husband who has inadvertently welded together lamb chops and other frozen treats.
I know from feedback, that this column is read because readers enjoy the reminiscences and observations about rural life. Some also have a sense that the topics touched on may be worth more serious thought. Such thoughts can be found in videos. These can be viewed on YouTube. (Peter Wells Pauntley or Western Way Chapel) but what readers may not know, is that a small group of us meet at the Dymock Chapel at eleven am, every Sunday Morning. For about an hour we share an unstructured time of silence, interspersed with whatever anyone wishes to share.
The overall direction of our thoughts naturally draws on our Judaic-Christian traditions, and which are the foundations of our Western Civilisation. Our small group believe the Bible is the primary bedrock of our civilisation, our nation, and our personal lives.
The Bible was first translated into English from Greek and Hebrew by a Gloucestershire man. William Tyndale (1494 –1536) was born at Melksham Court Stinchcombe and became a learned Protestant whose translation went on to comprise about 75% of the 1611 King James Bible..
This weekly meeting is not about doctrinal assertion and is more meditative than discursive. It is also a state when, as a hymn writer put it. “The silence of eternity is interpreted by love.” This is particularly so when we share in the Communion; a time when the Infinite and the Finite are close, and from which we draw energy to better contribute to a world in a dangerous intellectual and spiritual crisis.
Just turn up any Sunday at eleven and say nothing or share a thought or two.
Here’s a thought readers might ponder.
A boy said, “Grandad, I think you and God are alike.”
Grandad felt his ego polished and replied, “ How come.”
The boy replied, “ Well, you’re both old,”
View from the Pew 