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.”
Don't forget, you can catch up with my writing bits and pieces ate the following places: