AN early morning abattoir slot for a trailer of lambs meant that we were on the roads at the same time as the morning commuter traffic. Our Land Rover and trailer were drawing up at traffic lights with buses full of early morning shoppers and office workers. I glanced casually in at them, and they glanced curiously in at us. Many had headphones from personal stereos plugged into their ears and seemed almost in a trance-like state. I turned on the radio and listened to the first reports of the feedback from the 'race riots' that had taken place in the summer in Bradford. Suggestions were being made over tolerance of the variety of faiths and beliefs in the country together and achieving a unity of approach. Half an hour later, we reached the abattoir and followed the usual procedures of going through the disinfectant dip into the abattoir yard and handing over our movement licence and details to the various officials around the gate.

I spend most of my time when we are waiting at the abattoir with my head in a book. It can take sometime for your vehicle to be called to unloade and, although I am a committed people watcher, I am very worried when at the abattoir that I might see something unpleasant. Other farmers, for example, they are a funny lot. Now that they have been denied their natural meeting place of the market, they gather in abattoir yards instead to talk about prices of stock, wheat yields etc. Where they all used to sit together in the market caf, they now all carry thermos flasks, and clutch steaming cups of coffee whilst they dodge the constant stream of vehicles.

Whilst we were gathered at one end of the abattoir building, two large white vans reversed up to the other end. Halal butchers, it said on the side. Fascinated, we watched whilst several Asian men got out, changed into white boots and overalls by the side of their vans, and went into the abattoir. They were there to slaughter the animals they were taking for meat, in the manner prescribed by their faith, which is to slit the throats of the animals, whilst they are conscious, and let them bleed to death. The lambs we had taken in for the more 'conventional' kill, are stunned before slaughter. Neither method, I know, acceptable to vegetarians, but I could not help wondering if there was to be a meeting of the multi-faiths and customs on this matter as well as on the other issues raised by the race riot report.

The farmers around were spellbound by the all white gear of the Halal butchers. The abattoir men around us were dressed in a variety of colour overalls, yellow hats and green wellies. More suitable for a building site than an abattoir. Silently they observed the Halal men. "They've bid for your trailer of ewes," the vet told one of the farmers, "they knew what time you were booked in and that's what they're here for."

"Good trade ewes are," commented one of the other farmers. "Aye," said the farmer whose ewes had been bought, "Good trade. Up on last week."

Well, I thought, Mr Blunkett should get himself down here. The spirit of co-operation and a unified approach to different customs is thriving in a country abattoir. Britain has a lot to learn from its farmers.

Updated: 10:52 Thursday, December 13, 2001