When I was a young child my mother placed, upon my small shoulders, the following onerous decision: chops or sausages?
I don’t really know why she expected so much of me at such a tender age; how could I be expected to weigh up the economic, ethical and ecological issues attached to eating lamb versus… well, whatever it is in sausages.
Did she really expect me to drive a wedge between Australian sheep farmers and the sausage skin manufacturers, at my age?
The implications of her loaded question were really not well thought out, nor well executed. You see, she would often ask me this question first thing in the morning, as she headed off to work before I was fully awake.
And because my decision was made in haste, with a pre-cursor of panic, I would spend my entire day at primary school pre-occupied with the plaguing fear that I had made the wrong decision and the family’s festival of meat would be cruelled by my immature forecast.
As I got older I got better at learning to live with my decisions; so much so that in high school I didn’t give them a second thought throughout the day and was often even surprised when I sat down for the evening meal.
But by then, of course, my mother had moved up the food pyramid and hit us with a dilemma for a different decade – peas or beans?