Vegetarian in France.

I was going to write something in the wake of the horse burger, but I got rather absorbed in day to day life, so instead I'm trailing a million miles behind. Quite frankly, I never saw the fuss- I am living in a country where it is perfectly acceptable to have a horse served on the same plate as a cow anyway.

I can't say I've really fathomed the French and their relationship to animals yet, here horses are both pets and food, riding is extremely popular out in the countryside where I am, but all the kids who do so say they'd quite happily eat horse meat. Yet, if you mention eating a dog they shrivel their noses up... Dogs and cats seem to be given privilege over other animals here, while us Brits claim to be a land of animal lovers, we've banished them out of restaurants, schools and shops as we consider them a health and hygiene issue. How surprised was I to come to Issoudun and see the owner of a German Shepherd strut into the bar with his gigantic dog. Even in fancy restaurants you may find yourself with a cat purring in your lap happily as you enjoy your meal- the French don't see the problem, the Brits can't believe how you'd let an animal at the table while you're eating.

See, confusing?

I can see why us Brits draw a line at horse meat if they associate them as pets, yet why complain about it when you're happy enough to eat rabbit? Quite a few of us have had one of the floppy-eared cuties as a 'starter-pet', if your parents hated you then I'm sorry, perhaps you got a goldfish instead. There is of course the argument that horses are intelligent animals, therefore shouldn't be put through as much suffering as the other creatures on the food chain- yet pigs are just as smart but because they're 'frigging delicious' people choose to ignore this. It just reminds me of the quote from Animal Farm "ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS."

All in all everybody seems to have their own rules about what animals should be on the menu or not, it is confusing as hell and makes me happy to be vegetarian as I have the simple answer of "none for me thank you".

I can and have given many reasons for being vegetarian, but the simplest is that I simply like animals. My first 'animal rights act' (shall we call it?) took place when I was 4. My dad had just caught an octopus that he was going to take to the local Chinese to have cooked, he left me a total of 5seconds before he heard a splash and came running to see me waving goodbye as my new friend scurried back into the sea, turning many beautiful colours in its rush for freedom. Since then I have brought home orphan hedgehogs, swallows, birds with broken wings, and I don't think I can quite forget the earful I got when mother came home to find two frogs swimming in our bath. To me, animals are just simply a hell of a lot prettier and more interesting alive than dead. However, I don't believe in telling people in what they should and shouldn't eat, it's a personal choice- just don't get shitty with me for being veggie and don't go preaching about your love of meat, it's sickening. Deal?

There are two things however that I dislike about France. We'll start with the less annoying one-

Fur is fashion... Apparently. I don't wear leather myself, but I can see the use if quite frankly you're going to eat the animal, you may as well put the rest of the carcass to good use. However, seeing someone wearing fur or a stole pretty much makes me wanna go all Ace Ventura on their ass.

If you feel it's absolutely necessary to eat meat to survive still, yes you're prehistoric but meat has been sustenance for many years so minds can't be changed too quickly. However, using dead animals to decorate yourself will NEVER be a necessity.

The second thing that disgusts me- foie gras. While the standards of farming in France is actually pretty damned good in most respects, those horses you perhaps worried about had quite a good life before they were served up, geese are treated like shit. Quite frankly, they probably get treated worse than rats here. In fact the rats get well fed on these poor, diseased geese.

Here's Mr Roger Moore to tell you about it.

If you don't have the time to watch it, I'll sum it up for you- these birds are kept in cages so small they can't move and then a steal pipe is rammed down their throat, causing broken beaks and wounds to the neck and stomach, if they survive this first part they are then force-fed food until the majority get cancer. These birds are so ill and weak that when rats come to feed off their open wounds, the birds can't even defend themselves against it. Yes, this video centres on the farms in the US, but the standards are no better here in France. It's fucking disgusting and this is no way of life for any living creature.What's more, it's completely unnecessary. Geese put more fat on during Winter- so killing them then would mean you get the same product (fat liver), just no disease and no cruelty. But the French are unwilling to call fatty liver that has been made 'sans gavage' (without force-feeding) 'foie gras', as it's a break from tradition. Well, it was once a tradition to keep slaves and pass them on through the family but that joy eventually came to an end. Them saying but "Ohh, but it's so tasty" kinda sounds a bit like ex-slaveowners complaining that they now have to clean their houses themselves or actually bloody pay people for it.

If you have the time, here's a presentation about good, humanely produced foie gras:

The fact it's so completely unnecessary fills me with rage, quite frankly I've done well to have held my tongue about the subject on numerous occasions. I doubt I'll move any people here. I'm just bloody glad we don't produce this crap in Britain.
If you wish, there is a petition to stop force-feeding in Europe:
http://www.stopgavage.com/en



Oh well, I'll get off my soapbox now I guess.
I'm still searching this country for veggie food, so far I have been pleased to find tofu ravioli in the local supermarket- BIG step here in the French countryside. However, the day I go to a restaurant here and I have an alternative to a goat's cheese salad is the day I can celebrate.

Home.

As much as I like France, it's just not home- I bloody well love Scotland! Being home for the festivities certainly clarified that, surrounded by people that have the same 'funny' accent I have, lots of good food- I stowed some veggie haggis and cheddar in my suitcase for the return to Isengard, and good TV- sounds sad, but damn I've missed the British sense of humour!
I feel I spent my holidays well, I saw A LOT of people in the short spell I was home, and I caught up with a few that I hadn't spoken to in  years! It was blooming great catching up with my old school-friend Kari, I mean we used to hang out when we were this size:

After a rather less than white Christmas, I'm certainly nostalgic about these days- SNOW, and lots of it is magical stuff. 

As well as catching up old friends, I made some new ones- yes, more cats! This blog has featured them somewhat heavily... And this year is the year of the kitten it would seem, so nought's gunna change there!

First my neighbours got two cuties who visited us first thing Christmas morning much to Kit's annoyance. I have never seen my cat look more green-eyed as she watched the two frolic across our lawn.

Unfortunately they've taken a big interest in our pond, and getting into our house. Double trouble.

Then Helga, after much begging, has finally got herself a new kitty too. Meet Mogo, who fits into the Garrioch family no end (he even has a viking name):

Here he is, a little stuck. While most cats would struggle to get free, this wee chap just sits resigned waiting for someone to help him.

I had a fine Christmas, and a great New Year- no tears, no drama for once. And as for New Year's resolutions? Not really made any. I would like to be fitter though, as my parents new treadmill made me realise when I set it to an 'advanced work-out'. The bastard beeps every time it's about to change settings, after 10mins of running 'up-hill' I almost wept with relief to hear it beep, until I noticed that it said 'increase incline'- steeper hill, same speed, oh the cursing that came out of me...

So yeah, maybe we'll go with that one.

I also came back to France armed with Oor Wullie, Brave and a Giddy Limit calendar. Thinking about teaching my kids about the Orcadian tradition of the Ba too. For those not familiar with the Ba:

Ba game is a version of medieval football played in Scotland, perhaps most notably in Orkney and the Scottish Borders, around Christmas and New Year.

Ba is basically mob football, or village football. Two parts of a town have to get a ball to their respective side. For instance the two sides are called the uppies or the downies depending on which part of town they were born, or otherwise owe allegiance to. The ball must be manhandled, and is very often a moving scrum. The game moves through the town, and can go up alleyways, into yards and up streets. Shops and houses board up their windows to prevent damage. Unlike traditional mob football, generally people are not hurt.- Wiki.

And here's pictures for more of an idea (stolen from the BBC Radio Orkney FB page)::

This is the Doonies about to win (they have to jump in the basin).

And this is the Uppie win, touching the wall.

This year, three went in the basin. :) Also, for more of an idea of how there are basically no rules- people have been known to jump in their cars with the ba (the ball) in a big attempt to get it to their side, perfectly acceptable if not moral. 

Well I wasn't gunna spend ages writing an explanation when someone already has- and probably better... Luckily this year it didn't head for our house, last year my dad was just about pitchforking ba players to keep them out of his beloved garden. 

Think my kids should have fun hearing about it anyway,