Ignore food fads and remember: only one rule really matters – eat, drink, and be merry

Meat has now joined the devil’s trio of smoking, booze and sugar. New figures show a third of us are eating less of it. When did we fall out of love with roast beef and bacon? The discovery of horsemeat in supermarket sausages and burgers in 2013 won’t have helped, nor will the World Health Organisation’s recent pronouncement that processed and red meat could contribute to cancer.

But what are we replacing meat with? I’m fascinated by the new fad for “non-cooking” vegetarian cookery books, usually authored by a very attractive young woman, featuring piles of assembled raw vegetables labelled as “superfood” salads. Can anyone tell me what is attractive about a flabby, flavourless spiralised strip of courgette? And why mush up a tasty cauliflower in a blender to replace “wheat-laden” couscous with something resembling pre-digested baby food?

Let me state categorically: I adore meat. I love all vegetables and I eat any fish I catch. Anything that’s had a decent life, from grouse to cavalo nero, from my home-grown swedes to a locally reared, well-hung rib of beef, I will eat. I will never own a NutriBullet or turn flavoursome brassicas into slurry.

The number of vegans and vegetarians is still low, at 3 per cent of the population, but that figure is steadily growing as it’s the fashionable life choice of the moment. When asked why they’re eating less meat, people talk a lot of pre-blended bilge. They claim “health reasons” or question whether their food is “safe”. That’s the same food our parents and grandparents ate.

The Government’s Food Standards Agency has just surveyed our eating habits, concluding our diet is dictated by class. Lack of time and lack of cash are cited as two reasons why we eat processed food – neither of which stands up to scrutiny. I’ve said it so many times: cheap food can be made from scratch quickly. And convenience food isn’t necessarily cheap or nutritious.

The FSA found that people think only middle-class people can afford to eat well, but when I queue in a coffee shop, the people waiting for a coffee that costs £3 and contains 20 teaspoons of sugar will come from every stratum of society. Sugar is a drug that doesn’t just latch on to poor people.

As for the demonisation of meat, I refuse to believe that a few slices of salami will result in bowel cancer. Italians eat delicious salami, and make cheap cuts of meat go further. They rarely sit down to a huge steak, except on special occasions. It’s worrying that from week to week, doctors and medical experts latch on to one food and trash it. This doesn’t lead to an understanding of nutrition or a balanced diet.

Excessive gambling is out of control, and the Government has done little to prevent the proliferation of betting shops in poorer areas, in spite of repeated pleas from MPs such as Diane Abbott, who have seen their local high streets blighted by bookmakers.

Betting is as addictive as crack cocaine, and the habit can start when children are young. All too often, it’s the people who can afford it the least – breadwinners depriving their families to fund their addiction, something that didn’t bother Abbott’s Labour Party when it was promoting the opening of casinos in the most deprived areas of the UK.

I’ll never forget making a documentary about young gamblers years ago, talking to teenagers already hopelessly hooked at 14. Since then, lottery cards, online betting and FOBTs (fixed odds betting terminals) have made compulsive gambling part of everyday life. Now, the NHS is funding almost 1,000 addicts a year to attend a clinic prescribing drugs to wean them off the habit.

There are an estimated half a million problem gamblers in the UK, but the Government seems reluctant to intervene, probably because FOBTs (which allow punters to bet up to £100 every 20 seconds) generated £420m in tax last year.

One evening last week, I filmed a television show at a bowling alley in Kent packed with kids on half-term holiday. The rowdy atmosphere was more like a casino than a sporting venue, with slot machines and FOBTs (which gave out tickets for prizes, not cash). I feel uncomfortable that gambling of any kind is being promoted somewhere where very small children are having fun. Parliament says it’s OK for people over 18 to do what they like with their money, but the time has come for a review of that laissez-faire attitude.

I enjoy walking alone in remote places – the grimmer the weather, the better. I’ve never understood the appeal of plodding through a well-known bit of scenery surrounded by other hikers. I can just about tolerate a knowledgeable guide, or a friend who knows when to keep quiet and match my pace.

As walking has soared in popularity, with trails designated for every level of fitness, some beautiful routes in the UK are in danger of crumbling from overuse. From Glencoe in the Highlands to Snowdonia, the Pennines and the Brecon Beacons, many paths have sections resurfaced in stone to prevent further erosion.

This has been common for years on popular trails in Australia and New Zealand, slightly diminishing the feeling you are in the wild. To prevent crowding, some walks Down Under are ticketed and overnight stays limited to official huts where bunks have to be reserved in advance. Now, Europe could be following suit: residents of the Cinque Terre in Italy are planning to reduce drastically the numbers of visitors every summer who will be able to walk the 12km path linking their tiny villages. There’s talk of a ticketing system and an online app to highlight congested areas.

A couple of years ago, I walked around Sorrento and Amalfi and encountered the same overuse. Sadly, creating long-distance trails leads to a honey-pot effect. The Italians need to lead walkers to other, less crowded parts of the country (away from the coast) where the scenery is just as fabulous – Piedmont and Puglia, for example. Walking shouldn’t be for lemmings.

Buskers are on my list of most loathed, along with mime artists, clowns and cupcakes, but hey, I wouldn’t ban them. Life’s too short to cleanse our city streets of every little annoyance. The snooty folk at the National Gallery would beg to differ. New director Gabriele Finaldi and the chair of the trustees, Hannah Rothschild, are demanding Westminster Council culturally cleanse the area outside their entrance, which Finaldi described as “vulgar chaos”. Oh, get a life. Since the pedestrianisation of Trafalgar Square in 2003, it’s become a lively, vibrant thoroughfare. Levitating Yodas, crappy buskers, silver statue people and ranting evangelist preachers are all part of city life. The gallery snobs are even moaning about music which “intrudes” on their meetings – Bob Dylan on bagpipes is deemed particularly offensive.

Ironically some of the greatest artists, from Hogarth to Hieronymus Bosch, have carefully chronicled city life at its most debauched. I want galleries to be lively places, not temples of silent contemplation. Instead of mocking what lies outside their door, they should learn from it. By the way, on the route to Tate Modern over the Thames is another busker and hot-dog seller spot, but I don’t notice Nick Serota complaining.