I want to give up eating meat. I have long been uncomfortable with the idea of killing something just so I can have it on my plate. To take the life of a living thing just because I fancy a bit of its body, grilled and sizzling for my tea, seems just plain wrong. What is worse, I don't even believe that we really have the right do that anyway.

I eat meat because I like it. No, scratch that. I eat meat because I love it. I like the feel of it in my hand, the way my carving knife slices through the raw flesh, the smell of it crackling and spitting in the oven. I love the way the fat crisps and the flesh stays pink and bloody, the way the juices dribble out when I carve it, the way the Yorkshire pudding soaks up the beefy gravy from my plate.

My love of roast pork and its crackling, and of the potatoes that roast in its juices, of a glossy, sticky sausage at breakfast or a grilled lamb cutlet in my fingers, always gets the upper hand. Every bone in my body wants to be a vegetarian, it goes well with my gentle temperament and my respect for animals.

Unfortunately my love of a pork pie and a pickled onion will always get in the way. What is more, I suspect it always will.

Yes, I'm ashamed, actually appalled at myself. When I see a chop or a sausage or a rasher of bacon in the shops I see the animal, too. I know exactly where it has come from. I can picture that leg of lamb before it got skinned and butchered, and spiked with rosemary and garlic and roasted. I can see it attached to the cute little lamb and see it frolicking in the field with its siblings. I don't see a chicken breast on my chopping board, I see a bird with its beautiful plumage strutting proudly in the farmyard (or more likely tucked up in the warmth of the barn). I don't divorce what is on my fork from the living animal. But no matter how I try, I can't get rid of my taste for meat. I love every little yummy bit from head to tail as it spits and sizzles on the grill.

None of this means I would ever eat a piece of meat from an animal whose provenance I didn't know and approve of, just as I can honestly say I haven't eaten anything in living memory that wasn't humanely reared. I won't even buy an egg that isn't free range, let alone eat a chicken that has had anything but a decent life. But it is still eating dead animals. No matter how good a life they have led. I'm not proud of it. It is simply that a bacon sandwich will always get the better of my conscience.

Did I mention the McCartneys are coming to lunch?