Every morning I stroll or jog to the nearby farm where I feed the sheep and let them out for the day. In return, the farmer let’s my ponies graze in his fields. It’s a slightly hypocritical pact for a vegan, but ever since some rustlers stole the ram there have been no more lambs and I can feel better about the whole thing – at least until the farmer replaces him.

This morning, rather than one animal less there was one more. A black one. A sow. She was standing outside the pen looking in, while the sheep looked nervously out. I’m not sure if she’s pure Iberian or a mix of Iberian and wild boar. Round here there are often ‘accidental’ escapes from pig farms and ‘accidental’ matings between domestic pigs and wild boar. The point is that domestic pigs are more prolific breeders, so more wild boar ‘pests’ are born which the local hunters later ‘have’ to shoot. Talk about hypocrisy. This manipulation of the environment by hunters is something that’s often overlooked – and non-hunters have no say in it. In parts of the Pyrenees, for example, black grouse numbers have declined due to the ‘accidental’ increase in wild boar, which eat the eggs.

Anyway, she came running towards me and, at first, I didn’t know whether to bolt or stand my ground. But I liked the idea of being friends with a ‘wild’ pig so I stayed where I was and, luckily, Miss Piggy – as I now call her – felt the same way about a human. The sad thing is, that will just make her all the easier to shoot come the hunting season.

Anyway, this is what now passes for commuting. At one time, working in Britain, I had to drive for ninety minutes to get to work and another ninety to get home again. Now I can spend the time saved in more enjoyable ways, such as communing with a pig. For an alternative suggestion on what to do with the time click the Sex For Boomers button and read Sex Is Better Than Commuting.