My friend P. came home from holiday to find her amply stocked meat freezer (brimming with produce because her acreage allows for the rearing of various delicious animals) had been the subject of an electricity cut. Instead of firm ribs of beef, regimentally rigid pork chops and other carnivorous delights shrouded in misty white ice, she opened up the lid to what looked and smelled like an abattoir. After recoiling, she scooped the revolting sodden stinking mess into black bin bags and heaved them into her people carrier. Our local dump is very precise about what you can chuck into each of the various containers – garden refuse, cardboard, defunct fridges, small electrical goods – there simply isn’t one for rotting meat. So P. tried to look anonymous as she casually slung one of the heavy bags over her shoulder, nearly toppling over in the process, and puffing and panting sidled up to the Household Waste container. Sadly for her, as she summoned up all her strength to throw the bag in, the plastic split and in an instant she was covered in sticky, fetid blood. Stunned, she stood there looking for all the world as if she had just committed multiple axe murders. And do you know? Not one person there said or did anything – not even a facial expression of abject horror or mild amusement. They’re a tough old lot in t’country.