Today, in case it passed you by, is the first day of Lent. Otherwise known in the trade as Ash Wednesday. It’s all terribly like New Year except without the parties. And painful shoes. And the snogging inebriated friends. The friends. Not me. I didn’t dare get drunk this last New Years – the danger of my taking someone’s husband home would have been too great.
Today is the first day of Lent. It’s all terribly like New Year because of all that resolution stuff. Lent is the soft version of New Year. It only lasts 40 days as opposed to 365 days, or, in the case of New Year’s resolutions, 10 days.
This year it is particularly handy for those, like myself, who are given to resolution. Because just as one fails the New Year ones – Lo! Where should we find ourselves but bang up against the next big resolution calendar event. Convenient eh?
So here are my resolutions –
Stop putting my coat in the fridge by mistake.
Stop putting my boots in the freezer, whether by mistake or on purpose.
Remember where I am going whilst traversing roundabouts.
Remember that roundabouts are for going around rather than traversing.
Put all my underwear in alphabetical order.
Put all my outerwear in numerical order (except for those items already in the freezer)
Stop thinking about sex.
Stop thinking about love.
Stop thinking.
Put everything in the house that is not actually attached to a wall, screwed to the floor or over ten foot tall into Anthea-esque baskets.
Weave a basket sufficiently large to put the car in.
Find the car.
So, for 40 days and 40 nights I must do the above. It’s not going to be easy. Obviously. Especially all that basket stuff.
But the sheer anticipatory joy of Easter Sunday will keep me going. For verily on that day I will once more be able to freeze coats, make much disorder, bump crazily across roundabouts, lose the car and think about sex. I might give the last one a miss.
Oh fuck, I’ve broken that one already. Never mind there’s always baskets.
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