… or a Tyke (aye, it wor’ a while ago), meat were properly cooked, ‘appen. (The reader will no doubt aim off for the accent, at this stage.) Even at the best dining establishments in Great Yarmouth — dwell on that, for a moment — a trace of reddish fluid on the plate was cause to send the dish back for proper cooking.
Leaving home engendered the odd change, in eating as elsewhere, and for the last couple of decades — OK, few decades — it has never occurred to the Chap that meat outside of stew should be cooked other than rare. But equally, it has never occurred to him that the state of one’s meat equated in any way to the state of ones masculinity. (Although the act of eating meat is an old indicator of red-in-tooth-and-claw masculinity.) Other males and genders were perfectly free to make their own choices, right or wrong.
But now, all of a sudden, Continue reading “Meat and Right”