My dad worked in the meat marketHe used to bring home the best cuts of meat for family and friends, trim them up, make them look nice, give them away just to be nice. One Sunday morning he was trimming up a pork joint for a neighbour called Sid. The meat had an abcess in it. Pus ran out of the meat over the chopping board, down the cupboard and onto the floor. There must have been a gallon of the stuff. Dad spewed into the sink. The stench stayed in the kitchen for days inspite of constant cleaning and air fresheners. Not cooking, but not nice.
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Tue 14 Oct 2003, 1:17,
archived)