In Britain back in the 50s and 60s this was a combination no less common than roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. A hoc of Bacon so salty that it had to be soaked and drained at least twice before boiling. Several hours later the tough bacon would be tender enough to eat. Wrapped in a cloth and boiled to mush along with it was a few handfuls of yellow split peas. In the East End of London this was a handsome repast. Boiled bacon and peas pudding. My mother loved it!
The November nights of 1960 were cold and foreboding. They lived in a three-bedroom house and had paid the mortgage for only 5 years. £1,500 it was valued in 1955 and the monthly payments took over half of my father's weekly wage. This was the generation when the man was the breadwinner and the woman stayed at home. My father was a mechanical engineer by day and a pub music entertainer by night. Money was needed to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Only one room in the house was heated and the toilet, typical of many houses at that time, lurked in the dark and cold wilderness of the back garden. In short, life was hard and every chunk of coal on the open fire was a luxury. But my mother was heavily pregnant and her 18-month-old baby had to keep warm.
My Grandfather was a master butcher by trade. You would think that he would turn up from time to time with a nice piece of fillet steak or a leg of lamb. Not a chance! I do not believe that my grandparents had ever blessed my mother's marriage; a point not without evidence in the fact that they were notably absent at my parent's wedding. Granddad Arthur was a typical East End lad who seemed to believe that his daughter had chosen her path in life and was not about to make it any easier. His best effort was to sell my mother the cuts of meat that were just on the turn. He taught her how to take the best bits and make a good meal. Neck of lamb stew was cheap and filling. Scrag end of beef or a nice piece of liver. Oh, and not least of all the cheapest bit of bacon that was edible if you could boil out the salt.
(((HUGS))) and love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
i have had yorkshire pudding and roast beef. the beef was great, but the yorkshire pudding was a bit too rich for my tastes. besides, i was getting sick, and i didn't keep it down. this happened on christmas day in the year 1998, before i moved to texas. it ended up i got a case of the stomach flu. it was NOT good.
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
