Guardian: Half a century ago this week – taking a last walk with my father before school began and autumn closed in – I made the most stubbornly enduring decision of my life. I asked my father what happened to the sheep we contemplated through descending dusk. “Well, er – roast lamb, I’m afraid,” replied dad.
I think it was the weirdness rather than the cruelty of the idea that made eight-year-old me decide never to eat meat again. We returned to the cottage we had borrowed for summer, which had neither…

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