Re: Oh the irony
I was brought up on a croft in the north east of Scotland. My mother milked the cow and we used the milk untreated. The milk was left to cool in basins. The cream was skimmed off for making butter. She also made her own cheese. I guess we were lucky not to have contracted somethingRe: Oh the irony
Re: Oh the irony
When my children were small, we went on holiday to a farm at Freshwater in the Isle Of Wight. It was near a National Trust area where many species of wild flowers grew. We bought fresh milk from the farmer in a jug, it was so creamy and delicious. It didn't make us ill. I also bought eggs that the children had helped collect.Re: Oh the irony
Re: Oh the irony
Re: Oh the irony
Re: Oh the irony
Is anyone else old enough to remember Bernard Miles? This kind of complaint against government interference in our use of 'natural' produce for reasons of health, always reminds me of his short, recorded homilies, much enjoyed on the wireless, before the invention of tv. The following was one such:
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