SIR: Here's another memory rouser for past customers of Barlows the Butcher on Stockbridge Road, Winchester.

The smell of freshly scrubbed floors covered in sawdust, white aprons and coats with rolled up sleeves revealing muscular forearms still comes to me. Stainless steel trays filled with various cuts of eat, not to forget the sausages, recipe passed down of course; these trays separated in the spring by young green sprigs of beech leaves brought in a by a lady of the countryside Mrs Harfield.

The staff of Mr Barlow himself, Bill, Stan, Mr Ern Wild and my husband known as Robbie in his working circles. Not forgetting Miss Wright behind the glass in the office taking cash and orders to be delivered by Morris Minor or Mini van, maybe in earlier days by bicycle with basket.

Christmas was a time of long hours and exhaustion, all poultry being drawn, dressed and hung along with joints and hams in the back shop.

The High Street shop had the same standards. A man could be taken off the front counter to make sure a queue was kept. "Must be best meat and prices here", a good and old fashioned sales trick by Mr Barlow. Well that's this week's grey matter stirrer.

Margaret Grant,

Buriton Road,

Harestock,

Winchester