Meat the Neighbours

Before we moved to Chiswick, I had heard rumblings of a very very hot butcher from some of my single friends in the area. I wrote it off as a couple of girls who needed to get some and were clearly projecting 70's porn fantasies on to a poor bloke whose meat they wanted to handle. Fast forward to two weekends ago when CB and I decided to pop in to the local butcher in prep for a nice Sunday roast. To what did my wandering eyes did appear. Behind the rack of lamb and spicy pork sausages was a very very hot butcher and he was helping us. I looked around and realised I was the only one who dared bring a male counterpart in with her and also the only one who happened to actually be wearing her ring. We (or should I say I) bought 2x as much as needed and had a fine chat with said bloke. When we left the butcher I commented on the truth of the rumours. CB decided that he was either gay or secretly a trannie. You see no man could be that cute and that nice and be interested in women (according to my better half). Whatever, I don't really care. He's still hot. CB often teases me and calls me a vegetarian. I am not, I totally eat meat, but it's true that I prefer vegetables more times then not and I don't cook with meat more then 3x a month probably. Well, I didn't use to. I have since been into the butcher every other day and our freezer is full of meat that CB will have to eat when I am travelling for work.

I was walking down the street this morning and was greeted by a very enthusiastic, 'Morning! from the hot butcher. I knew it was going to be a very good day.