The main meat market near our compound was at the end of Hill Street in Dehiwala Junction. It was a seven-day-a-week operation and was run by the Muslim community. I was always the first to put my hand up when someone was going—it was so exciting and colourful. (The market is still there, with the sons of the original butchers now running the show.)
Getting dressed up was a must—it is wonderful to live in a country where people, no matter how poor they are, will always ensure they are well turned out before leaving the house. I had to put pomade in my hair and comb it, ensure I had on a collared shirt and long trousers, and put something on my feet. Formal shoes were optional but some kind of footwear was essential.