There was a slaughterhouse behind the house on Camden Street where I lived as a child. Perhaps it made some impression on me for I was never much of a meat eater. In my teens, after seeing a documentary about factory farming, I never again ate another bite of meat. And those were the days when a vegetarian meal was a meal with the meat taken off the plate. Since I didn’t eat vegetables, I existed on a diet of coffee and toast.
I was vegan for a while, not to save the animals, but to give me a reason to talk about myself every 5 minutes. I came to my senses pretty quickly though when I was advised by an emaciated young lady with severe alopecia, that to be a real vegan, I’d have to divest myself of my leather shoe collection. No can do. Not all 15 pairs!
Besides, trying to live life without eggs borders on the ridiculous.
But fear not, you don’t have to hide your bacon sandwich from me—every man to his own conscience. I’m neither preacher nor teacher.
As well as being vegetarian, I’m a life long teetotaller. I despise alcohol and the effect it has on otherwise commonsensical people. I know. I sound like a positive riot, but at least I’ve never woken up in the morning with a blank where my memory of the previous night should be ... though there was that time when someone gave me a microdot. Well anyway, where were we? Oh yes, drunken parents and their antics. I could write you a treatise on excessive parental alcohol intake and its effects on children.
My mother was an infamous neighbourhood drunk. If you wanted your sofa peed upon or were partial to an earful of maudlin drivel, she was your man. ‘Every woman is a lady until she proves herself otherwise,’ my R.E teacher Fairy Adams used to tell us, and let me tell you, she did!
When we kids awoke one morning to find a turd in the middle of the bathroom floor we immediately presumed one of my parents to be the culprit. Though it later turned out to be the dog, it speaks volumes that our first suspects were our parents.
When I eventually escaped and bought my own house, my father thought it hilarious to despatch his drunken artist friends from the pub to my door with masterpieces to swap for cash. One ne’er-do-well arrived with only a note, in my father’s hand, which read simply ‘Give bearer the dosh’.
To those who think that drinking renders them more sociable or more attractive, I say, you are mistaken. It seems to me it impairs your higher faculties, removes your logic filters and leaves you operating on pure, unchecked emotion. I’ve never come across anyone whose disposition was improved by drink.
Personally, I don’t need alcohol to be a scintillating conversationalist and a fine addition to any dinner party. I’m also well known for my humility.
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Posted in response to 
'would you ever embrace the vegan diet'
The photos are my own but do not necessarily reflect my opinions.
