WHEN I was a child in the 1960s, people used to point out the vegetarian who walked up our street because we thought he was a right crank. Who would have guessed that I would grow up to become a “self-righteous, vegetarian crank” myself?

To be honest, the fact that I’m no longer a carnivorous nosher is not a big deal in my life. If others feel happy eating meat, well that’s their choice. But I just can’t see why anyone who happily tucks into lamb, turkey or beef can get upset because a store is selling reindeer meat. What’s the difference?

Yes I know that children feel warmly towards Rudolph, Dasher and all Santa’s other reindeer but don’t children also relate to Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Turkey Lurkey, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Goosey Goosey Gander, Molly Moo-Cow or Babe the pig?

What matters more to me is whether an animal has been humanely raised. What sort of life were the animals allowed before they ended up in the abattoir? Not whether this creature, that will end up dripping with gravy on your plate at Christmas or whenever, was cuter or cuddlier than that one.

Still, each to their own and I haven’t got a bone to pick with anyone over their menu choices so long as there’s been no suffering.

But it is odd to me that some people can feel uneasy about eating reindeer meat when they will happily tuck into venison.

What would Bambi say about that?