"To see the butcher slap the steak before he laid it on the block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfast instantly.
It was agreeable too - it really was - to see him cut it off so smooth and juicy.
There was nothing savage in the act, although the knife was large and keen; it was a piece of art, high art; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading.
It was the triumph of mind over matter; quite."
~Charles Dickens (1812-1870) 'Martin Chuzzlewit'
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Flourishing in the Fifties
Non-FictionA collection of tales of growing up in a working class suburb of South Australia in the 1950's. My Dad was the butcher, next door was the grocer. Milk and bread were delivered by horse-drawn vehicles, and what is now a busy highway was once an ordin...
