Walter Phillips, now closed and a florist on Heeley bottom, beside Manhattan motorbikes, now there was a fine butcher, consequently a wondeful pork pie, and the saturday morning sausage rolls, while still warm, were next level business.
I distinctly recall, as a 3 year old boy in Monks's trade counter (now keyline, the builder's merchants) proclaiming that the inside of my pork pie was made of putty....