I had thought that my earlier Tail, Horse, would be my last word on the Tesco horsemeat scandal.
But on Saturday afternoon, ten days after the darts match, I went into Teare the butcher in Ramsey intending to buy my week’s supply of meat.
There was a long queue and the counter looked as if a bomb had gone off. Mark the butcher and his assistants seemed shell-shocked and totally exhausted.
My ill-timed attempt at humour, “any horsemeat?” brought only a weak, polite smile. Mark had heard it all before. He replied wearily, “there’s only what you see.”
There wasn’t much left – a few of their home-made sausages and some tripe, but no mince, no chicken, no lamb and only one pork chop, which I had for my tea (as the Manx call it).
I have thrown out all the ready meals in my freezer, so it looks as if I shall have to survive on takeaways until Mark has restocked. But, as the old saying goes, it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.
See also: Horse