My Dad was a butcher. When my grandfather died, Dad and his two sisters took over the
grocery store/butcher shop that Grandfather had begun in 1912.

Dad retired in the 1980s and closed the business. In retirement, he turned to woodworking as a hobby. I have
a small collection of birdhouses he has since built, using wood cut on the band saw that for years stood
behind the butcher's counter and was later moved to his basement. But this birdhouse is my favourite.
He gave it to me to take to my children in London after my most recent visit.

In a fit of Christmastime sentimentality, I share it with you.

BTW, that is not false advertising ... Dad's meat was the best - anywhere. No doubt.