It's cold. The heating at work was struggling to keep up yesterday, only really taking the edge off. I do feel the cold terribly these days, when I'm rugged up outdoors it doesn't bother me, but inside I have to be roasting.
This wasn't always the case. I remember in my youth watching football matches in the snow with bare legs and it not bothering me at all. Nowadays that would put me in a coma.
Today, of course, is Shrove Tuesday. We shall be having our pancakes this evening, which will add a nice insulating layer, and then I shan't be giving up anything material for Lent. I've thought about it and really there's nothing other than token gestures I could make. Chocolate, swearing... that sort of thing. I don't do anything to excess really, saddo that I am. Unless you count something like knitting.
I once worked with a young woman whose father was a rather radical vicar. He used to empty the house of all but essentials during Lent, they ate very frugally and he always invited random people he'd met during the day for dinner with the family. She dreaded it every year, though she never cheated even when at work.
I'm not sure that's what it's all meant to be about. There's sacrifice, control, abstention; and then there's a reign of terror.
Anyway, for my own Lenten marathon I shall be attempting to banish all uncharitable thoughts. In other words I shall try to only look on the bright side of everyone and everything. I fear this may be far more difficult than laying off the choccies or not saying bugger.
