THE 30-Year-OLD-vegan

.....a fully-fledged tofu-grilling, fly-saving, plastic-shoe-wearing, wool-avoiding, honey-dodging, worm-loving, spider-stroking, puppy-wanting vegan pain in the behind. But, now I'm 30, I'd ask you to refer to me as Ms Vegan Pain the Behind. If you don't mind.

I am 30. 30. How did that happen? What happened to 20 through 29....where did it go? 30 is a fine and noble age, and much better than the alternative, but it's a bit of a shock to the system when it finally comes around - when dying your hair is more Just For (Wo)Men that just for fun. All of a sudden the words 'I've got years to think about that' don't have quite the same convincing ring to them........

So here I am. This is me. Still a vegan after 11 years and a 30th birthday: a 30-year-old vegan looking for direction and inspiration.....and a damn good restaurant where I can choose from three courses and to hell with the statement 'does it come with cheese on it?'.

Join me. And if you know where a slightly unhinged thirtysomething with dairy and egg aversion tendencies can find a gateway to freedom or the key to lasting happiness or a lifetime's supply of vegan mayonnaise, feel free to throw me a bone. Not a real one, though. The vegan police would be over that horizon and after me quicker than you could say Rice Milk.