Two months ago, at the start of June 2020, I decided to try going vegan. My reason was a Netflix Documentary by the name of What The Health.

It talked through the normal stuff we are all generally aware of: the atmospheric damage caused by mass livestock herds, effects of dairy on your brain, battery chicken farming, along with a surprising scoop that the main diabetes foundation in the U.S. is sponsored by food lobbies that aren’t good for diabetes. Interesting stuff, but the case studies of people who are suffering are what takes the documentary to another level. They had shocking health; on lots of meds, close to death. And then they go vegan and six months later, lo and behold, they are completely healed. One woman even says she self-cured her thyroid cancer, simply by eating a plant-based diet.

I was amazed. From their first interviews and looking at the state some of them were in, I had expected to be reading their memorials before the credits rolled.

That mixed in my head with an interview we shot for a documentary on indigenous custom in Mexico, in which an 86-year-old woman spoke far more coherently and incisively than many people half her age. She said, in the middle of an interview, “All my family have longevity. My siblings, my parents; we all last a long time.” Her mother had lived to ninety-two. “And it’s because we only eat stuff from the earth. Natural food.”

I turned to my wife, she turned to me, we simultaneously said, “let’s try it.”

So I tried going vegan for a month. For anyone who isn’t exactly sure what vegan is, another way of saying it is a ‘plant-based diet’. You can only eat vegetables, fruit and their derivatives – basically vegetarian without eggs and dairy.

I went to the store and stocked up on what I’d need. Chickpeas, pasta (the supermarket stuff is egg-free), tahini (houmous became a staple), mushrooms were vital for something a bit chunky, and all the veg I could think of, that I had a vague idea how to cook. I also bought a Jamie Oliver recipe book: ‘Ultimate Veg’. This book was a massive help. Meals tasted great, filling and good for cooking technique. A good spice cabinet helped. Cumin, paprika, curry powder, lemon and pepper mix, they all give so much flavour.

The first thing I noticed was that my urine was suddenly brighter shades. Weird and perhaps you didn’t need to know that, but I couldn’t find an explanation anywhere online. Bowel movements changed too. Suddenly I was finishing more regular trips to the loo in five minutes, when previously I would take 15.

The first week was also windy one. The flatulence on one evening even reached worrying levels. Chickpeas, broccoli, beans, nuts; I could only apologize to my wife. I looked it up, and found it was a common complaint; the enzymes in your guts take time to adjust to the change in diet. The meat enzyme reduces, and the vegetable enzymes blossom, and in doing so, they create more gas than usual. After a week, everything was back to normal.

And I lost a bit of weight over the first month. Perhaps 2 kilos (4 lbs).

I wasn’t perfect. Twice I ate meat. Both on deployment in places where firstly, it wasn’t possible from the menu at the only restaurant in a rural town under COVID, and secondly because I was in a spectacular restaurant, where the Italian owner makes his own sausage. I missed dairy; butter and cheese mainly. I barely noticed the lack of eggs.

Going vegan required planning. If you wanted chickpeas, you had to soak them overnight prior to an hour’s boil. And I missed certain things. I have Marmite (a British yeast extract spread; Aussies have Vegemite) on toast in the mornings, and olive oil was no match for salted butter. A dash of cream or yoghurt can take any sauce up a few notches, and I think of it only as a lipid – a complex fat.

Other things I found difficult to accept. Veganism prohibits you from eating honey. This was an irritation, because bees are absolutely vital for ecosystems. They do a massive amount of pollination (something like 80% of the global total), so wherever they are, they are a blessing. I am a big fan of honey, it’s immortal; archaeologists found honey that was still edible in the Pharoes’ tombs from 2000BC. It’s the condensed nectar of flowers, and I want to be able to eat it. I nevertheless went honey free.

I also tried to get into the culture. I joined online forums, subscribed to social media accounts that promoted the lifestyle, and told friends and family what I was doing. A few raised eyebrows didn’t deter me, and when a friend invited me over for dinner and I saw a meat sauce bubbling away for his pasta, I quickly asked for a saucepan and some spinach to knock up an alternative. Obnoxious I know.

When it came to the online community there were accounts which were very informative, supplying weekly menus and shopping lists to prepare them. Motivational gym guys who do extraordinary acrobatics: do you know what’s one-up from a pull-up? A Power-Up; in which you don’t merely raise yourself to your chin, you raise yourself until the bar is level with your belly-button. Watching a ripped vegan influencer do ten of those in short succession will bend your mind a bit.

However I also saw a lot of intolerance online. The main points of the argument were that the vegans were “libtard woke snowflakes” with a “holier-than-thou” attitude in the eyes of their accusers. The reposts came with the notion that those who weren’t plant-based were “irresponsible” and “intolerant”. The fight, which is also split across political lines, bored me. We live in a free world, where if something is legal, a person should be able to do it without fear of being criticized from people within that same society. Eating meat is perfectly legal and will be at least throughout our own lifetimes, and if a person chooses to go plant-based then that’s their own decision. Furious personal attack, rather than reasoned sharing of opinion and experience, isn’t cricket. You can’t win an argument, because people don’t react favourably to being told they’re ignorant or wrong, and if you’re right 50% of the time, you’re doing great.

So the end of the month arrived. I didn’t make a run for the cheese exactly; but the next time it was on offer I wasn’t saying no. I was blissfully back on the honey. A dollop in the coffee. A teaspoon to lick after dinner. I still haven’t eaten an egg.

But I didn’t want to eat meat. Friday take-away in our household is Shake Shack. They’re these thin meat patties that they squash-down with a spatula into the screaming-hot grill. They come out crispy and juicy. Served on soft potato bread with gloopy American cheese. Gorgeous.

My wife got one. I thought, ‘I don’t really fancy meat that much’, and opted for the vegetarian option. We ate happily but my young son was kicking up a scene, which left us running after him, and after half an hour trying to finish a burger and fries, we hadn’t got through half and we were full. So the dog was sniffing about, and showing an interest in the unwanted beef. He got it. And as I looked closely at the juicy meat the dog ate from my hands, I felt a slight revulsion. If I really find myself wanting to eat meat again, or perhaps I’m in Argentina and want a superb steak, then why not; it’s silly to miss out entirely on life’s best. But in the meantime, I simply haven’t wanted it.

So now, after two months, my resolve is to remain vegetarian. I have found suddenly that vegetables taste very delicious. Spinach in particular is amazing. And when you know how to roast vegetables (toss in oil and bake at high temp), or make humous (just requires a mini food processor), or breakfast on bread, then you barely notice a change.

And people have said I look different. I think I look better when I see my PTCs and video diaries, or even jumping out of the shower. An intermittent physical test I do is fifty consecutive push-up, I can report that I’m neither stronger nor weaker. And I feel healthier, although the test of that will be when I get back to the tennis court after this pandemic.

That’s the long and short of my experience. It’s not my intention to persuade people to do the same, simply to give a true account of what I thought and felt.