ALAN WHALLEY'S WORLD

YOU'LL need to have a strong stomach to digest the following "back to the past" piece submitted by a lively-minded pensioner.

Choosing to remain anonymous, the sprightly 80-plus lady takes us back to the 1920s when, as a 10-year-old schoolgirl, she joined a rag-tag queue of other kids in the back alley of Hales' butchers shop in Earle Street, Earlestown.

What they were all clamouring for were - wait for it! - free sheep's eyes. The amused butcher popped then into pieces of cloth that the kiddies specially took along to wrap their grisly 'trophies' in.

"We then took sadistic delight in scaring little boys with these yucky specimens . . . running, moo-ing and boo-ing after them."

But that was just the "fun" side to it. Hard-up mothers had far more serious butchery business in mind when picking up their own very welcome 'freebie' in the shape of the full sheep's head (minus its peepers, of course).

And it would appear that those Roaring Twenties mums could get just about anything out of a sheep's head, apart from the baah.

First, they removed and soaked the brains overnight. Rinsed off, these were then lightly cooked after being beaten together with salt, pepper and margarine.

"And very tasty, too!" says our octogenarian chum, with obvious relish.

The rest of the head was then seasoned and boiled up in a big, black cast-iron pan, popped on to the open coal fire. When tender, the tongue was skinned and left to be sliced up when cold. Next, the head meat was chopped up, then pressed together, (after being liberally sprinkled with salt and pepper) inside two large plates weighted down by a housebrick.

"When cold, this made lovely butties," declares our enthusiastic pensioner, who adds: "Those were the days, my friend! Sadly, they've now all gone - but memories are treasures no-one can steal."

FAIR enough, lass, but, if you don't mind, I think I'll stick to beans on toast!

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.