A ghostly portrait.

In Large. - taken on Canon AE-1 today.

T'other day, for the first time in several years, I had the smallest flicker of a desire to go vegetarian (read pescetarian).

I was stood in the kitchen slapping some mayonnaise on a slice of bread in preparation for the bacon which was hissing and spitting under the grill behind me when a huge truck trundled past on the road. It was packed full of pigs, off for the chop.

And I have been a vegetarian in the past- for about two years when I was young. I imagined being a pig in that lorry, succulent cheek by jowl with your pals hoping that this is, indeed, a group trip to Codona's amusement park.

Another reason is that I could be one of the first vegetarian butchers. I would no longer have to expose my ignorance when someone asked me how to cook a brisket or a topside:

look, pal, I'm a vegetarian alright. The fact that you're buying the meat in the first place is offensive to me. Saying that, I would appreciate it if you still bought it, because, you know, money's money and brisket costs a fair bit.

In fact I put The Smiths on my iPod at work the other day and when Meat is Murder came on I took a moment to admire my mastery of irony.

But, perhaps I'll start as of next week. There's half a packet of bacon in the fridge still and I think it's be even more offensive for the pigs whose lives have been taken away for their flesh to be cast into the bin.

Christmas might be tricky, too.