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  I mentioned this on the old DoverWeb many years ago and it's worth repeating.
  
  When I was a lad just after the war (WW2 that is not the Crimean!) pigs had to be licensed (watch out for that excellent film "Private Function"). My father was a baker and among his specialities were flead cakes, one of the ingredients being pig fat.
  
  Those of you of a certain age might remember Charlie Wilkinson from Seven Star Street flats. He was my uncle and without doubt a bit of a rogue. It was Uncle Charlie who always managed to find those things that were still short in those days. One dark night he arrived at the bakehouse in a bit of a worried state. He said that people had been staring at him and he didn't know why. When he took his rucksack off he realised why he had been the centre of attention. He had walked all the way from the Pier district to Peter Street with a pig's trotter hanging out at the back!
  
  While on the subject of the bakehouse I'll just quickly tell you this. The bakehouse cat used to like laying on top of the proover. One day it forgot where it was and fell off into the doughnut deep fat fryer next to it.
  
  People were picking black hair out the doughnuts for weeks after!
  
  Terry

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