In 2003, I told my grandparents I wasn't going to eat meat anymore.
My Grandad remained silent. He looked out of the window, tapping his fingers on the side of his chair. He couldn't comprehend such a thought. No meat? What's wrong with him?
My Grandma was more sympathetic but also concerned. What is he going to eat? Without meat what on earth is left? Briefly, she thought to herself and then she asked some questions.
"Can you eat potatoes Neil?"
"Yes."
"Can you eat bread?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Can you eat chicken?"
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When I told me Mam I was going to be a vegetarian on my 16th birthday, it was a monumental family crisis. She used to hide bits of steak in my food.
The first properly vegetarian meal she ever served me was rice and chips, with loads of tomato sauce.
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