by Thomas Keown
What when this month makes innocent people sad?
He was so disappointed. I hadn't seen him in more than a year and most of the year before he had spent unsuccessfully inviting to stay with he and his new wife in his new home. When this week I was finally able and agreeable to staying for a night with an old university house mate he shopped handsomely the day before in order to please me by purchasing all the breakfast foods I am renowned for loving.
The look of utter dejection when I told him I wouldn't touch nevermind chew any of the mound of pig products in the pantry was pronounced. To be sure it provided a way of introducing the month to the bloke. But it felt jolly rude. Or at least impolite.
Was saying no and making him swallow his disappointment more holy than if I'd made myself appreciatively swallow his caring comestibles? Sacrificing pleasurable flavours for to my own purity and benefit is obviously good but this felt a mite self-indulgent.
And besides, bacon is so good.