WHEN it comes to eating I have this simple philosophy: 'Fight hunger... never let it creep up on you.'
Judging by my considerable girth, it's a battle I keep winning - and the humble bacon butty has certainly played its part.
I'm a devoted foodie and confirmed carnivore, and it would be rare that there'd be anything, ever, on a restaurant menu I wouldn't (or couldn't) eat.
Indeed when I'm abroad for business or pleasure, I judge that destination principally by what I eat. Put me up in a hostel in a hammock after a five-hour airport delay and I'll be fine, so long as the food's good.
So the fact that red meat is probably carcinogenic, and processed meats such as bacon and sausages increase our risk of bowel cancer, really should have me clearing out my cupboards, fridge and freezer, and reaching for the quorn.
But it won't. Health scares come and go, and I'm firmly in the "everything in moderation" camp.
My weekday brekkie strictly comprises Cornflakes and two apples, but Saturday and Sunday mornings are set aside for a fry-up, or at the very least a bacon sandwich. It's one of life's pleasures.
I'm not blasé about the risks of cancer (it's a disease that has visited my own family in recent years).
But carcinogens are everywhere, in our workplaces as well as households, and even in the air we breathe. So where do you draw the line?
I find it staggering, absurd frankly, that processed meat is being classified alongside alcohol, asbestos, arsenic and cigarettes on some kind of danger list.
Yes, I accept these global health experts know more than I ever will.
But my common sense tells me that having anything in large quantities won't ever be good for you.
So bacon and sausages will remain on my weekend breakfast menu - and in the odd sandwich in my packed lunch - for a while yet.
