August 29th, 2007

Eating Meat

I've changed the way I eat. I used to be a vegetarian (who would occasionally indulge in sushi or fish and chips). Now I'm regularly cooking joints. 

The night before last I was eating lambs liver on a bed of rice. Last night it was roast brisket of beef. The other day, in a restaurant, I had a steak sandwich with a mustard crust.  It was the must delicious thing ever.

I made the change for reasons of health. I don't have much energy at the best of times. Never did.  But subsisting on a diet of bread and potatoes wasn't helping.

I believe I'm putting on weight. I'm certainly changing my- ahem- contours. 

I try to keep things ethical. When I buy meat I want the assurance that the animal had a good quality of life. But I realise the labels I rely on may be bending the truth. 

For the first time in ages I'm actually enjoying my meals.  I'm enjoying cooking them too. 

A Stray Memory

This happened in the early 70s.

My first wife and I were sitting after dark on London's South Bank, looking at the pretty river, and  this crazy, homeless guy latched onto us and treated us to a rant about how the blacks (I don't suppose that was the word he used) were coming over and taking all our jobs and how he'd send 'em  home at gunpoint.

And we were smiling frostily and wishing he'd go away.

And then-  because he thought we were homeless too-  he offered to share his sandwiches with us.

It wasn't at all what I expected.