Jumping On The... Horse And Cart

In January, some scientists found some horse in a burger. I had a very strong initial response to this, and it was one of AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

See, I'm a vegetarian, and while I'm not the sort to go around slapping people eating KFC, screaming "YOU BASTARD, THINK OF HOW MANY CHICKENS YOU'RE IMPRISONING  TORTURING AND MURDERING. THEY HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW!!1!", I do feel a little bit smug. 

It's not so much that I think people who eat meat are 'finally getting what they deserve', as such, it's more that  sort of smugness that crops up when something bad happens to people who aren't you. I sat in a corner with my salad, and cackled as the media descended into an infernal outrage.

Which I think was the best bit about, what Wikipedia has dubbed, the 2013 Meat Adulteration Scandal. The press treated it as if the manufacturers were playing a nation wide game of Russian Roulette, by sneakily sprinkling horse into one burger out of every ten, and that the only conclusion was that everyone would somehow be horribly poisoned. They had to call in 'top scientists' (the majority of which were students with lab coats) to reassure all England that there was not actually enough horse meat in anything that could be in anyway harmful. None of the horses that had accidently been dropped into the mincer contained drugs, and everyone was going to be totally fine, honest, cross our hearts and hope to die.

The only problem was, that for once, no one actually needed reassuring. The entire population, as a whole, seemed to just shrug and go "Well, these things happen.", before carrying on moaning about the weather, and slagging off Micheal Gove. The only food that contained horse was, and is, dirt cheap. The people who were actually eating it quietly agreed that they probably should have seen it coming, and looked a bit sad. Everyone in the middle class tutted, in a "As if we'd shop at Tesco's" sort of way, and went back to staring at the free range washing powder in Waitrose. 

And I think everyone knows that the upper class has been nibbling on polo pony on cracker for decades. They're not called Hor(se) d'ourves for nothing.

The other thing that surprised me was the we were all very rational about the whole thing. Everyone seemed to recall the fact that, just because we are not culturally inclined to eat horse, doesn't mean that others aren't, and it isn't necessarily all that unethical. We don't make a habit out of it, but we made a habit of eating cow. 

So, y'know, thanks a lot British press. It's time to move on now.

Then I Realized How Rural My Upbringing Has Beem

So I went to Whitby last week, which was nice. Just a couple of days away with Mum and the step father, to clean out the cobwebs before we all went back to functioning in society. We visited the abbey, and the museum, and did a lot of shopping. I bought a cardigan. Yes, it is very nice, thank you. It's red, and has a little embroidered anchor. We did a lot of walking, and nearly stole a dog. I fell down a lot of stairs, and Mum nearly cried at the amount of themed tea shops we visited. 

I also realized how very, very rural my upbringing has been. Where I live, if you need to get something useful, like bread, or toothpaste, you have to plan to go and get these things at least a week in advance, maybe a little less if you can drive. Most people are used to the fact that, half an hour before Boot's shuts, they can just walk there, get what they need, on the spur of the moment, and be home in time for tea, thank you very much. Not me. Oh no, I was baffled by this.  I needed face wipes. Boots would be shut in half an hour. Grabbed the handbag, ran down the road, and was back within about five minutes. I ended up staring at the wall for the entirety of the next day trying to get over the fact that I didn't need to catch a train, or a bus, or cycle anywhere. I'm going to be rubbish when I move out. I'll probably break when I discover Tesco Metro. 

I also fell in a lake, trying to escape from the Abby, then nearly threw up in a church, but that's a very different story.