Alex James: don't get too attached to your farm pigs Chickens really are a piece of cake; less bother than goldfish. Even a few sheep don't take that much looking after. But pigs are quite a commitment. I've been fattening up three Tamworths - hairy, grinning ginger ones with long snouts and pointy ears - for the past few months. I had a couple of tons of grain left over from last year's harvest and a spare paddock, so it all made perfect sense. Pigs are delightful creatures. I got so attached to the first pair I had a few years back that I couldn't eat them when the time came. I had to give them away - and it's a well-recognised problem. In the past, when it was more common for farmers to fatten up a couple of pigs for winter, it was normal practice for neighbours to take piglets from the same litter, bring them on and then eat each other's. I've tried to keep these at arm's length, but it's tricky. I've got to know a biodynamic (ultra organic) pig farmer who advised me not to take them to the abattoir. Moving them around stresses them, he said, and under his guidance I opted to slaughter one here on the farm. It is within the law - if the meat is for your own consumption. There was quite a gathering when the time came. Once the pig has been killed (we slit its throat) it needs to be hung, which took three of us, plus it had to be inspected by a vet, and the local butcher came along to lend a hand, too. It was the most harrowing thing I've ever done: utterly gruesome. I didn't feel hungry for a good 24 hours afterwards. Best damn pork I've ever tasted, though.