BACON

One of the adverse consequences of my sons' leaving home is a reduction in the amount of meat in the house. My daughter is vegetarian, and my wife likes to humour that, so poor old dad has to go along with it. Which can be tough at times, particularly when I see two packs of bacon staring at me whenever I open the fridge. Bacon is probably the food I like more than any other, so this is not easy.

And that is so, even though the bacon in Denmark is not great. Being a pig-infested country, you would think that it was the tops; but it is not, it's that miserable kind that shrinks in half as soon as it hits the pan. A good thick rasher is just not to be had. Danes are always telling me that the best stuff is all sent to the U.K. and elsewhere, but couldn 't they have reserved a few packets for people like me?

Anyway, despite my daughter's vegetarianism and the poor quality of Danish bacon, my patience was exhausted this evening. Out came one of the packs, and all eight slices hit the pan. After duly shrivelling down to the size of four, they formed the basis for two rather large bacon and cheese toasties. Not good for my physical health, but terrific for my mental health, as I settled down to watch the U.S. Open quarter final on the telly.

Walter Blotscher