Then, I thought it was goat meat, that is, nanny goat meat. If so, why wasn’t there any, “Potted Billy?” I’d never seen a goat but they must have been about because Dad insisted pasteurised milk was goat’s milk. Being from the country, he knew nothing tasting like that came out of a cow.

The only other milk he knew of came from goats, so he reasoned it must be goat’s milk. So was the paste nanny goat meat? No, it turned out it was simple beef paste.

Why they all called it “Potted Nanny”, I never found out. Chicken paste was not available then. I always tell the kids chicken paste is the stuff just under the chicken’s skin that holds the feathers on.

Dad liked, “Potted Nanny”, it was gentle on his teeth. Apples were not gentle with his teeth. They were always peeled with a knife, cut and eaten in small pieces. He never bit into an apple. His fruit etiquette was good, but not his bread etiquette. Which I understand is: You should break off a piece and then eat it. Miss Kath Evans, a stickler for correctness, always said, “I would rather admit my father was a murderer than be seen biting bread.” Apparently, biting food was considered wrong because only animals bite.

That’s how awful it was in some circles. My father had no such qualms; he bit into bread with gusto but not fresh bread. Fresh baked bread was absolutely not to be eaten. Doreen, my sister, was once sent to Sim's shop for a loaf of bread. Walking home with the loaf she picked the crunchy crust off and ate it. When she arrived home, Dad looked at the crust-less loaf puzzled. She smiled, mimed and mouthed, “Mr Sims says, they’re all like that today.”

Dad was mortified, despite what Doreen said, he suspected she’d eaten the crust. Eating the crust was bad, but what was worse, it was fresh baked bread. To explain his concern, Dad mimed putting the bread in his mouth and chewing it. Then with a big gulp he would dramatically swallow the mime bread. He’d then smile as if every thing was all right, suddenly his smile would be replaced by a look of puzzlement then alarm. He looked down at his stomach. Then with his hands in a terrible arthritic claw like motion, as if gripping a defenseless kitten, he squeezed and squeezed it. Then sucking in his cheeks he crossed his arms on his chest and with his eyes looking to heaven, you knew this was how the fresh bread reacted in your belly sucking’ out all your body juices before you died. This left you in no doubt that fresh bread was a stomach shrinking poison that would suck all the juices out of you and leave you all dried up like a desiccated Egyptian mummy. He looked at us knowingly; shaking his head from side to side and wagging his index finger like a metronome. Indicating don’t do it ... it’s not worth it.

We waited for the terrors of the fresh bread to affect Doreen. They never did, but this didn’t shake our belief in Dad, because Mam said, 'you couldn’t trust a shopkeeper, it must have been yesterday’s bread'. Doreen never did it again. It was all very medieval. I later found that in the old days they had trial by ordeal. They had to grip a red-hot iron bar and if they burnt their hands they were guilty. Suspect witches were thrown into ponds and if they floated they were guilty. This was only for poor people. The clergy were different, they, like our Doreen, had trial by bread. They would call on the wrath of God to strike them dead if they were guilty when they bit into a slice of bread, or more correctly broke a bit off and put it in their mouth. Being wealthy clergy and thinking there was a very, very slight chance it could be his last meal he’d probably made it a jam sandwich, just in case. Surprisingly I don’t think there’s a case of any clergyman being found guilty in a trial by jam sandwich. Like my Dad and us, they knew what the secret was, 'don’t eat fresh bread and you’ll live'.

Eating fresh bread was bad, but what about chewing gum, I hear you cry? Well, we were allowed chewing gum even though it irritated and confused Mam with her lip reading. Chewing toffee was of course worse.The chewing gum was all right, it was the consequences of swallowing the gum that was so terrible.

To explain the evil of swallowing gum, Dad would mime unwrapping and putting the gum in his mouth and chewing it. All the time he smiled. Smiling indicated, 'only unsuspecting idiots did this'. Then he pretended to swallow the imaginary gum and with his index finger he traced on his chest the path of the gum from his throat. Strangely, it didn’t go to his stomach but to his heart. Then stretching his arm out with his index finger pointing downwards, he would swing the finger from side to side like an upside down metronome. Clicking his tongue in time to the jerky swing. This indicated a healthy heart beating. The unsuspecting chewing innocent, still smiling, and the finger continued to swing from side to side, in time to the tongue-clicking beat.
Not for long though ... Suddenly the smile would vanish. The finger stopped abruptly held fast at the end of a swing, stuck. The finger struggled to release itself from the gum. The gum held. The finger struggled harder. The finger manages to free itself. It swings once and sticks at the other side. With superhuman effort it manages to free itself again .It swings back and sticks fast, exhausted. The chewing gum had won. The heart had stopped. Dad’s eyes closed slowly. The finger stayed, rigid, stuck. He opened his eyes looking to heaven, as if to say, 'If only I had listened'. He paused, his eyes closed, his head dropped to his left shoulder, he was dead. Pausing in his dead pose for greater effect and because you didn’t recover quickly from mime death.

COMMUNION CYCLE

His eyes would open and with his palms upwards; he would look to heaven hold his hands up as if surrendering to God. Then licking his index finger he’d draw a cross over his heart and hold his right hand up as if swearing an oath. This indicated that every one, including God, knew what he said was true. He then pointed at Doreen, then me, this meant, 'No excuses, we had been told,' so we now knew what happened when we swallowed chewing gum. His warning came too late. He must have been talking about old-fashioned chewing gum because it didn’t happen when we swallowed the new stuff.

I was reminded recently of Dad’s swinging pendulum heart. A woman I know suffers from what I call ‘Surrealist Hypochondria.’ She says that the doctors can’t ex-ray her hiatus hernia because every time they attempt to do it, her heart swings in front and hides it. She’s got a 'peakaboo organ'. How does it know?