Three months into my vegan experiment, I hit a snag. Staying at my mum’s house for a weekend, I found myself completely unable to ‘come out’ as a vegan, and so simply ate the ‘special cheese’ and butter she had laid in for me. What does this say about me? That my commitment to veganism isn’t strong enough to make me deserving of the name? That I’m embarrassed to be a vegan? That I consider accepting my mother’s hospitality with good grace more important than sticking to my dietary principles? Yes, probably all these, and more.
I ate the cheese, and the butter, and it was interesting. I didn’t ...
There are approximately 1334 more words in this article.
To read the rest of this article, please buy this issue, or join the Resurgence Trust. As a member you will receive access to the complete archive of magazines from May 1966.
If you are already a member, please Sign in
