Sheepish secret that shaped Charlie Chaplin
I'm with George Bernard Shaw, who said "animals are my friends...and I don't eat my friends." But neither do I eat the head off carnivores - or those who supply their demands. Especially as one of the most decent landlords I ever had was a butcher.
Ireland is not a renter's paradise, and many of the property owners I leased from over the years were fairly horrible. But he was both a butcher and a gentleman. He'd always greet me, when I came downstairs from the flat above his premises, with a "Morning, Fiona!" and a big, friendly smile - standing there all rosy-cheeked and cheerful, cleaver in hand and his apron splattered with blood.
I lived there for ages, despite the smell of raw meat that came up through the floorboards in summer. He is still carving up carcasses on Dublin's Wexford Street, and I still pop in for a chat if I'm in the city and passing.