I saw Dale talking with my grandmother and I snapped a photo. Dale looked like she was trying hard to not burst out laughing. I knew the look. She immediately filled me in. My grandmother, some level of orthodox Jew, asked Dale how she was going to find a kosher butcher in the little northern English town she was headed for. Dale lied. Yes, she lied. She said, “Oh, grandma, I would never shop anywhere but a kosher butcher. There’s a big city nearby that has everything we need.”