The butchers shops in Edmonton, north London, where I grew up the early 1900s were typical of other butchers shops at the time.
Our local butcher was a typical and traditional butcher because he was big with a florid face and he had a belt round his waist which was unusual for other shop-keepers.
Inside butchers shops, sides of beef would either be hanging up from large hooks suspended in the shop or in an ice-safe which was kept cool with ice supplied by the ice man.
Butchers kept their shops beautifully clean with fresh sawdust on the floor and shining tiles on the walls.
At the end of every day, the chopping boards, which looked rather like heavy three-legged stools were scrubbed with wire brushes and then washed. Choppers and knives had the same treatment. The day's sawdust on the floors, which had absorbed or coated spills, was swept up and new was put down.
My grandfather's butcher's shop had been in the family for nearly 200 years before it closed. The bookshop which bought it entirely refurbished it and found nearly half a metre of sawdust under the floor. This had slipped through the gaps in the floorboards over the years.
In my experience, steel scrapers were used to clean the chopping blocks as wire brushes would have been too difficult to steralise.
Suet was bought as a lump and the butcher sometimes cut it out of a side of beef while I watched. It was minced at home.
The cylinder would be filled in the vertical position (as shown in the right-hand mock-up) before the fitting of the piston, lowering, connecting up and screwing on the required nozzle. Mock-up and additional information courtesy of Desmond Dyer.
Sausages were made in full view in a red sausage machine. In at the top would go the minced meat (and probably some meal and flavourings as well, although I can't be sure). Then butchers would put the skins on the nozzle and turn the handle.
It was fascinating for me to see the butchers take the long strings of the emerging sausage in their hands and with a flip of the fingers make a string of individual sausages. Unless the weather was exceptionally hot, these would be put over hooks and hung in shop windows.
It was not unusual for bones to be on sale for women to use to flavour their soups.
Lumps of fat were on sale too for rendering down for dripping, which was a popular meal on its own, spread on a slice of toast. It was always beef dripping.
I was never directly involved in buying joints of meat. That was for my mother - and it was always beef. She didn't stay with one butcher. She loved looking at meat in butchers shops. She would say, "That's a lovely bit of beef", etc. I wouldn't have known.
I had to go to the local butcher about once a week and it was usually to get ¾ of a pound of leg of beef and a ¼ of a pound of beef suet for a meat pudding. I was never happy about this errand because my mother would always tell me to tell the butcher that she didn't want too much sinew. Yet far too often there was too much for her taste. Then she made me take the meat back which made me feel uncomfortable.
The butcher I was sent to was on the corner of Silver Street and Bulwer Road in Edmonton.