I sometimes get asked,
“Why are you a vegan?” Now, I have to say this isn't a question
that comes my way very often but, when it does, the part of me that is
British suddenly becomes very uncomfortable.
There are certain
things that Brits are known throughout the world for doing thoroughly
and with great style. Queuing is one of them – look at the lengths
we will go to for that new book or for a reduced price dishwasher in the
January sales. Complain politely is another – hence our abhorrence
for automated telephone systems (we would much rather have a nice
polite chap on the other end of the phone with whom we can discuss our
grievance in a civilised manner).
One thing we are not so
good at is expressing or explaining our personal beliefs whether they
be political, social or religious. We look at our American cousins
and shudder at the brash televangelists or we scratch our heads when
we see French lorry drivers blockading their ports. This sort of
thing tends to be inherently alien to us as we would much rather sit
at home and grumble into our newspapers about something rather than
grab it by the neck and choke it into submission.
So
when I get asked about my particular lifestyle choice, I tend to
stare off into the middle distance before giving a bemused shrug and
saying, “I just am.”
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