Then came Alan Robinson, our Grandad, who had the shop during the war. Times were tough — staff were called up, rations were strict, and meat was scarce. But butchers had a quiet way of looking after their own. If you knew your butcher and had a few shillings, you wouldn’t go hungry. Nothing was wasted — wild rabbit, ox tongue, pigs’ heads turned into brawn, even chitterlings. Grandad made sure every ounce of protein was put to use — a lesson we still live by today.