It had to come around eventually. Sunday off work, sunshine streaming through the living room window, little to do but watch football and feed my face... it’s Roast Dinner time.
Though, this can be no ordinary roast dinner, of course.
My personal favourite is chicken. Wrap that breast in some bacon and drown it in the brownest, meatiest gravy you can find and you’ve got yourself a sale. That narrowly beats beef, leaving lamb and pork a distant third and fourth and turkey obviously only suitable for Christmas Day.
None of that is on the menu today, though. My hapless mum, facing her toughest Sunday lunch challenge for some time, I should imagine, is charged with the cooking. The result? Nut roast. Yep. Bloody nut roast.
And you know what? It’s not that bad. Breadcrumbed, it reminded me of a slab of stuffing. And everyone likes stuffing. It was okay; more than edible, just not quite enjoyable. It felt like something was missing. I felt like pushing it around my plate with the potatoes and parsnips, lifting it up with my knife and fork as if searching for the inevitable sliced flesh that obviously wasn’t there.
It might have been the first time during this fortnight that I have almost craved meat. So far I have almost forgotten that human beings murder animals for food. It seems like madness. Today, as terrible as it sounds, I suppose I was reminded as to why we are driven to do such a thing.
For the moment, however, I’m still firmly on the side of nature. Even the multiple cups of milkless-tea didn’t upset my attempted sofa-naps as much as Ben Fogle (twat) apparently torturing / distressing wild Australian crocodiles for “their own good” on the BBC.
At least he wasn’t killing them, cooking them and eating them, I guess. But I still might complain. ‘Points Of View’, here I come...