The phone was always in the freezing cold hall, wasn't it, often on a special table. Vintage telephone tables are apparently collectors' pieces now.


This is a really horrible one, but still probably worth a few bob. I suppose someone will sand it down, re-paint it and put some trendy fabric on the cushions. But those legs are dreadful! I like the spaces for the phone directories though. Remember them?




This one is rather trendier: I actually quite like it (but not the seat which is a foul colour and appears to be vinyl - yuk). Very early 60s, I suppose.








I read somewhere that Paul Getty (not sure which one) had pay phones installed in all guest bedrooms. Bit mean, but then again probably very wise.

Even ruder, ID. The people I mentioned text each other in the group - rather like passing notes at junior school.
MM, we loved our small town operator. In the early days of more owning them, she used to tell us where people were if we called...... "Try The Ship, dear,...no, I'll try for you. They go there on Fridays.'

or "About time you called - your mother is getting in a state....'

Oh, those good old days when communities were just that.

Blush - A few years back I asked my daughter if there were similar directories of e-mail addresses. After a frowning blank stare, she said, "Don't be silly."

Priscilla and others,

as you seem to know how the connection was done, for instance with this model that we owned in my grandmother's house and which they used for calls to customers while it was a fishshop. I have a vague rememberance that they learned me to phone. For a nowadays scription I want to know how it worked. If I am right you had first to ring the telephoniste with turning the handle at the right side? Then you was connected with the telephoniste? And then you had to say to the telephoniste which number you wanted? I have seen in the films that the telephonistes had a big board with all the connections on it. Did they connect your number with the number of destiny then? If some one can enlighten me on the exact procedure as I have to describe it as authentically as possible. I also want to know but that I will seek elsewhere if the telephone still worked during the German invasion in Belgium on 10 May 1940? As the telephone centrale had to be (wo)manned? I still remember that during the Russian revolution in St. Petersbourg the telephone still worked for a whole time even during the uprising and the executions in the streets...

Kind regards and with thanks in advance, Paul.

I'm sure Priscilla will be able to help, Paul. In fact I've found a picture of her in the act of connecting.






Our phone number in the 1950s was Pollok 4027, today I can't even recall my children's land line numbers, I just press the relevant button. However I have an elderly smart phone (tiny and according to the kids, embarrassingly old fashioned) that rarely has mobile data enabled but is occasionally used on the free wi-fi in pubs so it can be handy for checking transport times, looking at maps or googling for factual answers to resolve arguments.

Nah ferv, not me - but mother would probably have approved had I ever presented myself like that. Find a pic of someone in scruffy navy blue sailing clothes streaked with mud and filthy shoes. I  eventually  did do posh, smart etc especially when dress codes were formally indicated and observed but always preferred the slouch stuff.

Paul, I am not that old. We just picked up the phone and dialed 0 for the operator - and she (whichever it was)  being the local News of The World would know what time the big film started or the local bus times or if Mrs W was at the Women's Institute that night -or when it was best to phone someone or not...... a really smart phone in those days it was. Of course they also listened in so local gossip was always fresh and accurate.

Invasion of the Zombies;

Paul,

As two of my sisters-in-law worked as telephonistes at various village and small town centrals before their marriages. I did, as a snotty nosed brat watch them, and the procedure you suggest above, was how it was done then in this country.
When going outside the local central, you'd have to tell the lady-at-the-central which nearest, larger town you wanted, and then, when getting there, perhaps to be connected to another village or just the local number. 
The thing with dialling O for operator, wasn't known here, but the lady-at-the-central would generally know the numbers of the fishmonger, the grocers of the various kinds, as well as the doctor/-s, veterinarian/-s, &c., and could probably tell how their days business had been.

As a curiosum, when I served with the army in the mid-1970'es, we had field telephones working on the same principles and with some of the telephonistes just as knowledgeable ...

Kind regards to you from this part of Europe.



Edited because of additions and spelling.

Temperance wrote:

The phone was always in the freezing cold hall, wasn't it, often on a special table. Vintage telephone tables are apparently collectors' pieces now.

In my mother's house it still is.   Just on a hall table and with no chair near it so you had to stand in the freezing hall as well. And was like that for years and years until we recently had to talk her into putting a chair beside the table because they're old now and just not up standing for any length of time. Silly how people can get stuck in their ways.

Priscilla wrote:

Even ruder, ID. The people I mentioned text each other in the group - rather like passing notes at junior school.
MM, we loved our small town operator. In the early days of more owning them, she used to tell us where people were if we called...... "Try The Ship, dear,...no, I'll try for you. They go there on Fridays.'

or "About time you called - your mother is getting in a state....'

Oh, those good old days when communities were just that.

I could happily snatch the phones off them and say.....right, you'll get these back at the end of the evening and not before. I've been tempted but never quite game....yet.

The Daily Smell reports on people whose heart rate increases if their mobile is removed  and who can be soothed when given another to hold - not their own. Much as babies are with dummies then. This, I think I shall introduce and pursue  as a conversation  set piece when meeting with intolerable behaviour from the smart phone twitchers. 
I sat for long in an unheated  car this weekend with others awaiting  the return of the shopping group who had  walked off with the only set of house keys. Everyone played with their phones until - eventually - someone realised that they could also phone the other lot to send someone back with the keys..........( Please God of all phones, bring back the Nokia 3310 soon!) I had forgotten that everyone in that family - even the smallest child had a smart phone..... and one of them, mercifully, had hers switched on and not twitching.)

Nielsen wrote:

Paul,

As two of my sisters-in-law worked as telephonistes at various village and small town centrals before their marriages. I did, as a snotty nosed brat watch them, and the procedure you suggest above, was how it was done then in this country.
When going outside the local central, you'd have to tell the lady-at-the-central which nearest, larger town you wanted, and then, when getting there, perhaps to be connected to another village or just the local number. 
The thing with dialling O for operator, wasn't known here, but the lady-at-the-central would generally know the numbers of the fishmonger, the grocers of the various kinds, as well as the doctor/-s, veterinarian/-s, &c., and could probably tell how their days business had been.

As a curiosum, when I served with the army in the mid-1970'es, we had field telephones working on the same principles and with some of the telephonistes just as knowledgeable ...

Kind regards to you from this part of Europe.



Edited because of additions and spelling.

 Excuse for the delay, Nielsen.

Yes you described it exactly as  I remember it. Thank you very much for the help.

Kind regards from your Belgian friend.

My mobile phone (called by the American name of cell-phones here) is a Nokia , though I can't see any number on it.  I have had it the best part of 15 years; my dil found it on a beach and gave it to me.  I feel a bit guilty that we didn't hand it in to police but (a) no-one would probably claimed it anyway and (b) it would have been thrown away years ago to upgrade it. 

I was seeing just last week that people are getting sick of being eternally online and instead of smart phones 'dumb' phones are coming back!  But I have also seen that they are turning off soon G2 (whatever that means and I may have it wrong anyway) and it will be unusable.  I don't use it much but I like to have it for emergencies.  And when I'm away from home I sometimes text people on it.  (Not very efficiently.)

I remember when phoning people overseas needed booking in advance, at least at Xmas which was when most people wanted to.  It was quite a performance and we all stood round the phone to listen and had to wait for the answers from the people in Scotland.  (Which was where we mostly phoned, for my grandmother to contact her family.)

We were on a party line which meant that others could listen in, though for all the rumours, I don't remember that happening much.  You said, "Are you there?"  to check if you had been linked up.  Our ring was three shorts we were 122S or 184S when it changed, and I think there were about 6 of us sharing the line. Morse code rings were used, I am fairly sure.

You've probably seen this and it's fake anyway, but nevertheless we all approve.

I'm always light years behind the times, but have just watched The Revenant which I earlier today fished out of Morrison's DVD bargain bin for a fiver. What an absolutely brilliant film.

So who was this Hugh Glass?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Glass

Yes, I really enjoyed that film as well.

Was going to see this at the weekend, but the weather was far too good to sit inside:

Triceratops wrote:

Yes, I really enjoyed that film as well.

Well, I can't say I exactly enjoyed the film, Trike; I actually experienced it as a very distressing and difficult piece to watch. I found the contrast between the stunning beauty of the environment and the terrible, brutal, blood-soaked reality of survival in that environment quite overwhelming. A story set somewhere North of Eden perhaps?

I thought the film was full of theological themes and symbolism: the presentation of the Darwinian truth of physical survival v. the competing truth of spiritual survival was what I found brilliant. But it's quite upset me, if I am honest.

But that's probably me being stupid again - looking for "meaning" that just isn't there. (That said, there was that very strange scene in the ruined church... the father/son ideas... and the light images that kept cropping up...)

It is indeed quite visceral, Temp. Leo deserved his Oscar.

I watched this dvd yesterday evening, Burton and Speke's search for the source of the Nile:

When I was about 12 I read this:






Of the contents I recall little, it was a bit beyond me I think, but that cover illustration has stayed in my memory so clearly.


My reason to be cheerful on this miserable day is - my breakfast egg was a double yolker. I haven't seen one of those for years.

ferval wrote:

When I was about 12 I read this:
Of the contents I recall little, it was a bit beyond me I think, but that cover illustration has stayed in my memory so clearly.


My reason to be cheerful on this miserable day is - my breakfast egg was a double yolker. I haven't seen one of those for years.

I remember reading about Fawcett when I was a youngster as well. Had forgotten about him until the new film appeared.

Miserable day, Ferval. Is that the weather or this?

Theresa Mayhem

Both, Trike, both.

Animals enjoying themselves:

Our Father,
Who art in Hendon
Harrow Road be thy name
Thy Kingston come
Thy Wimbledon
In Erith as it is in Hendon.
Give us this day our Berkhamsted
And forgive us our Westminsters
As we forgive those who Westminster against us.
Lead us not into Temple Station
But deliver us from Ealing,
For thine is the Kingston
The Purley and the Crawley,
For Iver and Iver
Crouch End



I'd so forgotten this ... found it again when googling the book of common prayer (as one does). Genius, the late Mr Dury, pure genius!

Sir Humphrey Appleby, one of the greatest English villains ever created, has been mentioned elsewhere today. Sir Humphrey is sadly missed. If only Nigel Hawthorne could be raised from the dead...

A Brexit Special edition of "Yes, Minister!" has been written in Sir Humphrey's honour. Here is a little bit of the script from the link given below:



Minister: So who really runs Europe?

Sir Humphrey: Another interesting question. Well done, Minister! The European Union is run on an intricate and sophisticated system based on an hierarchical structure of interlocking and overlapping jurisdictions designed to separate the powers whilst reinforcing the authority of the departments, institutions and agencies who collectively and separately control and supervise the diverse activities of the Union and its associated organisations. So Europe is not run by the president of the European Council or the Council of the European Union, but by the president of the European Commission, who is akin to prime minister of Europe because he is elected for five years and heads a cabinet government, whereas the president of the Council, on the other hand, is not elected but appointed, and presides over the meetings of the Council, which is not the cabinet.

Minister: Who are the members of the European Council?

Sir Humphrey: The European Council’s membership consists of the heads of member states while the Council of the European Union, on the other hand – which is often still referred to as the Council of Ministers – is the real voice of EU member governments, adopting EU laws and coordinating EU policies. Sometimes it is just called “the Council” in the interests of clarity. And they’re not even trying to be funny.

Minister: It’s called the Council?

Sir Humphrey: Yes – but the Council of the European Union should not be confused with the European Council nor with the Council of Europe – nor the Council of Ministers, which is also sometimes just called “the Council”, although it is not the same Council as the other Council and is in fact not an EU body at all.

Minister: It’s not that simple, is it?

Sir Humphrey: Would you like us to simplify it for you?

Minister: I would.

Sir Humphrey: In that case, just move all the paperwork that we give you from your in-tray to your out-tray. We’ll do the rest.

Minister: Can I trust you?

Sir Humphrey: Of course. We are your humble servants ...

Minister: Yes, yes! I’ve heard all that. But are you in favour of Brexit?

Sir Humphrey: That depends what it means.

Minister: Brexit means Brexit.

Sir Humphrey: Yes Minister.




https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2016/aug/07/yes-minister-brexit-eu-jonathan-lynn-sir-humphrey

I have just read something that has made me laugh.

I was googling about low carbohydrate diets. These diets are apparently very healthy but, as with all things, moderation is the key. Too rigorous a restriction of carbs is not recommended. Fewer than 20 grams of the stuff a day is, the article advised, only for the "metabolically deranged".

"Metabolically deranged" - what a lovely expression. Being deranged generally is bad enough, but to be metabolically so afflicted is indeed bad news. It reminded me of a friend who had a really terrible temper and who was therefore worried she might have what the psychiatrists call Borderline Personality Disorder. I reassured her, saying that in my considered opinion she was simply suffering from Borderline Intermittent Drunken Explosive Disorder.

As I do not think I'm metabolically deranged, I shall aim for a moderate intake of 100 grams of carbohydrate daily, starting tomorrow. Porridge, but sadly no banana.

Metabolically deranged, is that a cross between being metaphysically deranged and diabolically deranged?

I hope there is a special circle in hell for the advocates of all these diets and where grossly obese demons shove their super-accurate diet scales up their fundaments thereby stopping them pontificating out of them.

Just been watching the BBC News and they have reported that Atlantic salmon have been discovered in a tributary of the River Derwent for the first time since the Industrial Revolution. The Environment Agency people are chuffed to bits and rightly so.

B*gger Brexit - this exciting fishy news really does call for a quick burst of something joyful!





Tried to post a picture of an actual Derwent baby salmon, but it isn't an "s" picture, so it won't take.

Good news indeed ... the next target is to get sturgeon back.

Mrs Beeton (1861) - whose motives, I admit, were probably not entirely altruistic - said that sturgeon, though no longer to be found in the Thames, Humber, Derwent (the Yorkshire one), Tees or Tyne, were still to be found in the rivers draining into the Irish Sea: the Severn, the Wye, the Dee and the Derwent (the Cumbrian one), at least in sufficient numbers to be readily obtainable at Billingsgate market, and per pound not costing that much more than salmon. (Fresh sturgeon she reckoned should cost 1s 6d - 3s 6d per lb ... which is about what she gives for salmon  ... by contrast she quotes the price of cod as 1s 6d - 2s 6d per lb ... so, surprisingly only a little cheaper).

In France sturgeon, heavily protected, are now back and doing fairly well in the Rhone and Gironde - in fact I think they never actually died out but they were certainly down to just a few very small and isolated populations.

Not quite sturgeon in the Rhone this but some interesting facts about Surrey were recently broadcast by the BBC.

The first was that Surrey is the most wooded county in England. This is surprising as one might have thought that Staffordshire, Essex, Nottinghamshire, Kent, Warwickshire, Northumberland, Hampshire, Sussex, Gloucestershire, Norfolk, Lancashire, and Berkshire (among others) would all have ranked higher than Surrey in this. It just goes to show that having a 'forest' within its boundary does not necessarily equate to a county being particularly wooded.

The second fact given was that Surrey has more deer in it today than it did during time of Elizabeth I. One wonders, however, if that includes those parts of Surrey such as Croydon, Kingston, Putney, Lambeth and Southwark etc which are now part of 'Greater London'. But an interesting statistic none the less.

These were given in Judi Dench: My Passion for Trees a delightful program which was broadcast over the Christmas period.

P.S. For those outside the BBC broadcast area, snippets of the program can be found on YouTube.

I'm not surprised Viz ... I was born and brought up in West Sussex and at secondary school in the early 1970s while doing local geography I remember the stats showed that Sussex (East and West) and Surrey were the three most wooded counties in England. Despite the massive deforestation of the Weald between the 15th and 17th centuries when it was the centre of England's iron industry and provided the timber for the Navy's wooden walls, as well as all the post war development along the London-Brighton corridor (Croydon, Purley, Crawley, Gatwick, Preston etc), the vestiges of the ancient Saxon Andredesweald forest were still there. When I later lived and worked in Crawley (mid 1980s) I was gratified to see that the trees lining the modern suburban residential streets and even in the town centre, were enormous oaks, many with girths of well over a metre and obviously many centures old, so even though the whole area had been 'developed' as a post-war New Town, it was still heavily wooded. And as well as having plentiful deer I'd bet Sussex (not so sure about Surrey) also has many more wild boar than it did in the 16th century too.

And thanks for the tip about the Judy Dench program ... I'll seek it out for tonight.

Talking of wild boar ...

I'm currently in the process of emptying my biggest chest freezer prior to a de-frost and clean. On Friday I'd been making loads of fig jam from all the frozen fruit, and I'd also got a large boar head out to defrost, as you do (it was the second reserve head from the Xmas 2016 cooking trial). Accordingly yesterday all the kitchen surfaces were occupied with jam pots and I was fully occupied with Mr Pig ... when a couple of the hunter chaps came by with a large plastic bag containing a generous present of boar meat: an entire forequarter. Though I was very pleased to receive the gift, I could have done with it at another time being already rather pigged-out as it were, but hey ho, one should never never look gift-boars in the snout. So today I've spent this morning butchering it up, as well as processing the remains of the other's head. From the fore-quarter I've managed to get a nice boned-shoulder roasting joint; the breast I've stuffed and rolled; the filet mignon I've kept whole; and from the rest I've got six bags of braising steak. I'd also got a good kilo of assorted trimmings and a jug of blood, plus all the trimmings left after making paté from the head, and so, seeing as it's nearly 26th January, my thoughts naturally turned towards haggis.

The guys were hunting all this morning just down from the house, and by the crescendo of barks from the dogs followed by a couple of shots, I guessed they'd got something. So at around midday - rather cheekily seeing that it was only two days ago they'd given me a nice portion of meat - I nipped up to the hunter's clubhouse/kitchen/abbatoir to cadge some offal. I suspect they all think I'm a bit mad, especially after trying to explain Burns' Night to them, but my mate Arnaud was there and he let me have what I wanted: the heart and liver from the big 80kg beast they'd shot this morning ... and so fresh it was still warm. I could have had the entire pluck and paunch if I'd wanted: they were all there in the big plastic tub under the hanging carcasse, but although not traditional I find it's certainly simpler to use an oven-proof plastic roasting bag. So now, after a rather messy couple of hours in the kitchen, acutely observed throughout by an ever-hopeful, yet ultimately disappointed dog, I've got two big haggis de sanglier in the freezer, all ready for Burns' Night, plus a slightly smaller one to have tonight. Miam miam.

Meles meles wrote:

Good news indeed ... the next target is to get sturgeon back.

Mrs Beeton (1861) - whose motives, I admit, were probably not entirely altruistic - said that sturgeon, though no longer to be found in the Thames, Humber, Derwent (the Yorkshire one), Tees or Tyne, were still to be found in the rivers draining into the Irish Sea: the Severn, the Wye, the Dee and the Derwent (the Cumbrian one), at least in sufficient numbers to be readily obtainable at Billingsgate market, and per pound not costing that much more than salmon. (Fresh sturgeon she reckoned should cost 1s 6d - 3s 6d per lb ... which is about what she gives for salmon  ... by contrast she quotes the price of cod as 1s 6d - 2s 6d per lb ... so, surprisingly only a little cheaper).

In France sturgeon, heavily protected, are now back and doing fairly well in the Rhone and Gironde - in fact I think they never actually died out but they were certainly down to just a few very small and isolated populations.

Meles meles,

sturgeon is that the one with the caviar?
In any case, here in Belgium they produce caviar from the sturgeon...and from this article even Queen Elisabeth II seems to prefer the Belgian one...
https://www.hln.be/regio/turnhout/queen-eet-kempense-kaviaar~acabe6fd/
Voor 100 gram betaal je al snel 150 euro. Wie niet op een cent moet kijken, is de Britse Queen Elizabeth. Ze speelt de Royal Belgian Caviar van Aqua Bio in Turnhout regelmatig naar binnen.
For 100 gram one pays easy 150 Euro. For those, who haven't to look for every penny spent, as the British Queen Elisabeth, it is normal that she regularly eats the Belgian Caviar which she prefers above the others.
As I suppose you understand French MM...



Kind regards from Paul.

I don't know about Her Majesty's preferences, but I do know that she has given royal approval to the caviar extracted from farmed sturgeon raised in the streams running off Dartmoor in Devon (not that far from Temp). Her "approval" however may not mean any special gastronomic preference as under English (& UK?) law sturgeon are still deemed to be 'Royal Fish' and any found in English rivers and inshore waters automatically belong to the Crown (as well as being subject to EU wildlife conservation legislation, of course) ... hence the need for the Devon caviar company to secure Her Majesty's consent before they could legally start their business.

PS
I was sure it was a company in Devon that first ran up against the old 'Royal Fysshe' law, but after an admittedly very brief online search, the only caviar-producing sturgeon farm I can find is in Yorkshire:

KC Caviar

So p'raps Her Maj' now has even more choice.

Meles meles wrote:

I don't know about Her Majesty's preferences, but I do know that she has given royal approval to the caviar extracted from farmed sturgeon raised in the streams running off Dartmoor in Devon (not that far from Temp). Her "approval" however may not mean any special gastronomic preference as under English (& UK?) law sturgeon are still deemed to be 'Royal Fish' and any found in English rivers and inshore waters automatically belong to the Crown (as well as being subject to EU wildlife conservation legislation, of course) ... hence the need for the Devon caviar company to secure Her Majesty's consent before they could legally start their business.

PS
I was sure it was a company in Devon that first ran up against the old 'Royal Fysshe' law, but after an admittedly very brief online search, the only caviar-producing sturgeon farm I can find is in Yorkshire:

KC Caviar

So p'raps Her Maj' now has even more choice.

Meles meles,
up to this documentary about the same farm they kill the fish (my parents were fishmerchants)



I don't know, but the sturgeon needs 10 years to produce the eggs...can such an old sturgeon still produce again eggs?...as such the sturgeon has only then the value of the salmon in the shop?...
And they seem to have started also in The Netherlands with the same method...
Yes those people from the Low Countries with their butcheries they should better take an example at the Yorkshire people...

But up to now the Queen seems still to prefer the Belgian caviar above those of Iran and the Saudis...even Japan prefers the Belgian one...

The only time I have eaten caviar was together with my father as guests of the Soviet Union in Leningrad (now again Sankt Petersburg)...and in abundance...invited by the Communist Party...in that time was the Party still rich...

KInd regards from Paul.

http://exmoorcaviar.com/


Philosophy

A happy sturgeon will always produce the best Caviar, no matter the maturity time needed...


How can you tell a fish is a happy fish?

Temperance,

you should to know better, you British ones, or would I have to say English... ...(BTW: Where is Ferval? Is she ill too as I mentioned yesterday to have learned from Jiglu about Per Nielsen?)
You with your close links with horses, dogs, oops and I forgot cats...
The granddaughter happened to caress a ray on her back in an aquarium...the ray seemed to like people and I suppose was happy by that...I remember a little pig at our house... at the end it was our little friend and it came frotting against us from contentment...in my mother's house they had a horse (to serve for distributing the fish with a cart) and it was also a friend in house...my mother named me to that horse... ...and in my wife's house a cow...the same scenario...I mean about the friend of the house...it seems that fish can be that affectionate as a dog...
And yes I wanted it to include in our thread of body and mind...

Kind regards from Paul.

Meles meles wrote:

... So now, after a rather messy couple of hours in the kitchen, acutely observed throughout by an ever-hopeful, yet ultimately disappointed dog, I've got two big haggis de sanglier in the freezer, all ready for Burns' Night, plus a slightly smaller one to have tonight. Miam miam.

Patience is of course a virtue and sometimes good things do come to those that wait, so I did eventually share my haggis with Doggy-Dog. A golden retriever actually makes an excellent dinner companion ... an unfussy yet appreciative eater, there's no idle chatter, he doesn't text or constantly check his phone during the meal, and neither does he hog the wine.

And we both agreed the haggis was excellent.

Meaning I wish posters would add an opinion comment or idea about what we are supposed to be sharing - otherwise we could just flick these refs back and forth until the board petters out with boredom.
Sit up straight at the back there.

Self portrait by bird:

Priscilla wrote:

https://www. downthetube.com/watchourpostdecline= YBoVVer

Priscilla, the link doesn't work

Neither do I, trike but I do try to write a post here without links. Speaking of which, this bar ought provide a decent sausage. Not sure whet defines one of those these days

The link isn"t supposed to work. That"s the point P is making. 

I don"t think that the virgin sturgeon would be the best authority to ask on matters sausage. If you get the drift.

For my part sausage has to be pork. Not beef and certainly not turkey.

Vizzer,

on the first sight I saw "sauce" our "saus" and about that word there is controversy. For me it was the juice? that came out of the meat when baken and baken in butter or vegetal butter and that together is that delicious part that I always pour in my plate...while the wife says that is not sauce that is the "fat" of the meat...and that is not good for you... 
And when I speak with "officials" they say that sauce is made with "perhaps!" juice of the meat and a lot of other ingredients...We need an expert as MM here...
But to return to "sausage" (our "saucisse" or in respectable Dutch "worst", yes give me sausage of pork anytime. But for instance this evening we have eaten sausage of chicken and that is not bad either and not so fat
And those Germans have that many delicious "Wurst"s as the "Bratwurst" with onions and mustard...the water comes in the mouth...
And sausage of beef...I haven't eaten it in my whole life...and this year...75...

Kind regards from your companion Paul.

The English word sausage and the Modern French saucisse both evolved from from Old Northern French saussiche which derived from the medieval Latin salsicia (something seasoned with salt), which in turn was a derivative of the Latin salsus (salted), and ultimately from sal (salt). The same salty derivation also gave rise to the English sauce, French sauce, and Dutch, saus).

The Germanic wurst seems to come from Old German root wers, suggesting a mixture of things. Before the Normans brought over their high-falutin saussiches, the Anglo-Saxons were happily tucking into their gehæccan, which might have meant something made of chopped-up pieces and so having a similar origin with that of the English verb hack and the noun hatchet, the French haché (as in steak haché), and the Scots haggis.

Sausages should be square so that they can be put in a roll for eating:



Infinitely superior to a Hamburger

Oh!  Is there a natural form of gut that is er - cuboid? Nah- sausage skin is now made from wood pulp and such. A friend put up a factory for some outfit  to do this - whish was also making security paper for bank notes; it's a complex world.

Are stuffed gut sausages even made these days? ( A lifetime in the east without sausages makes me above average ignorant on sausages - and much else besides, I suppose.) I prefer pork - but it is so often mixed with other stuff. Many here in UK are named after counties but I fail to find a difference..... mercifully Essex doesn't bother to claim inventing one - we just muck up the mixture.

I think stuffed gut sausages are still made ... the two ladies who run village shop/bar/restaurant usually close for a couple of weeks at the beginning of January, partly to have a break at this quiet time of year but also to make sausages, boudins and assorted charcuterie de la maison. These are primarily for their restaurant's use throughout the year but if you're quick when they reopen (any day now) you can usually buy some of their surplus hand-made sausages. You asked above for a decent sausage ... these ones are rather indecent, being typically amusingly misshapen, twisted and knobbly, and with skins that vary in thickeness which is what makes me think they are made from real intestine. They might look a bit odd but they taste great (and they don't split when you cook them), which is why their seasonal surplus sells out so quickly.