My wife left me when I became a vegetarian.
Mind you, I don’t think that was the sole reason for her departure. Things had gotten a bit awkward between us since the day I found her in bed with Sally from the corner shop. I thought to myself. “You don’t see that very often.”
We didn’t talk about it much. In fact, we didn’t talk about it at all. Some things are best left unsaid.
But the vegetarian announcement was obviously her tipping point.
She said, “Would I be wearing open toe sandals and going on protest marches?” She even accused me of voting Labour. I have voted Labour all my life, an act almost unheard of in these Tory doting Shires.
I always felt a bit rebellious when I put my cross next to the Labour candidate. I half expected the door of the polling station to burst open, and two burly men dragging me, kicking and screaming, into an unmarked van.
It never happened though, and the Labour candidate never got elected either. Of course, we divorced, there were no attempts at reconciliation. We sold everything, including the house, and I came out of it rather well. I even got custody of Margo the cat, who sadly passed onto catty heaven just a few weeks ago. She had a good life, but I sensed a bit of a celebration in mousey land!
So, here I am munching on a snack of Tofu and olives, when a WhatsApp message bounces up. It’s from Samuel, a militant vegan. “GET THE LOCAL PAPER UP ON YOUR SCREEN. QUICK!” It sorts of screamed at me.
With a couple of clicks I’m on the page.
“Tory minister admits affair with local woman, constituency party calls for her resignation.” Right next to the picture of this errant minister is the unmistakable features of my ex darling wife!