Postcard from Norfolk – Farm Shop again

The final visit to the farm shop, to stock up on fresh, muddy, fruit and veg before going home. While I was there, fondling the apples so large one feels like a borrower, a delivery van pulled up. Nothing unusual in that but this was, if the sign painted on the side was to be believed, delivering 'rare breed cuts'. Getting rarer all the time I would say. I'm not sure if the best way of pressing a breed is to ensure that members of it are sliced up and served up with chips, but I guess the farmers know what they are doing. Maybe if we discovered tigers were delicious, farmers would rear them, although it would take one fucking tough dog to round them up.