Sometimes Grandpa would ask if I would like to butter his toast and to me that was an honour, grandma usually did this job. There was always home made butter made from cream, and on occasion I was shown how to beat the cream into butter. (Mind you I did have tired arms after this experience.) The skill of buttering toast did not just happen and you had to be taught the right way to do it. Grandpa would tell the tale why so many children did not eat their crusts, as this was due to the fact that the toast was not buttered properly and the corners would be dry. He would also say people who didn’t eat all their crusts did not have a restful night as the crusts would sit on the end of your bed and haunt you.
These creatures were in the shape of the crusts you did not eat. And left on the plate. (Now today this might be considered child cruelty). But grandpa would explain to take a good sized piece of butter and place it in the centre of the toast. You would then spread the butter to a corner, you continued this until you did all four corners. If you did it properly the butter was evenly spread and every inch of the toast was covered with no bare spots. Now what I learned was that the toast was so goooood and the butter had soaked in everywhere.
If by chance you did not do it right it would be handed back to you to do the right way. Today I do butter my corners and no I don’t leave the crusts but gobble them up, the only thing missing is the homemade butter and raspberry jam, which the berries came from the bushes in Grandma’s back yard.
From the Pen of Noreen