Chloe decided she was a vegetarian two weeks ago. I scoured the supermarket for vegetarian produce and stocked up the freezer.

She was quite cheerful when I served her vege-sausages, instead of ordinary bangers with mash and fairly happy when served a Linda McArtney vege-pie instead of a meat pie; but when presented with vege-bacon when the boys had sizzling rashers on their plates she was not happy.

“You did this on purpose! You wanted me to stop being a vegetarian and now you’ve done it. Well done. You hate it when I do anything different don’t you?” she said in her most aggrieved voice.

“Whats the matter? I’ve given you vegetarian bacon.” I reply, equally aggrieved.

“It’s disgusting, that’s what. You deliberately bought it to make me want real bacon!”

“No I didn’t”

“Yes you did,” by this time she is peering into the frying pan to see if there is any more real bacon left.

“Great, you’ve given it all to the boys. Typical, you always favour them.”

“But you said you were vegetarian so I ….”

“Fine, I’ll just eat plastic crap while they eat proper food then.”

Exasperated I get the rest of the bacon out of the fridge. “Here I’ll cook you some.”

She looks at it in disgust. “You never wanted me to be vegetarian did you? Now you are making me go against my principles and eat pig just to make you feel better!”

I cook the rashers and slide three onto her plate. “yes,” I agree, and watch as she gobbles them up.