It’s Lent 2015. And it’s high time I observed it.
This year I am both giving up alcohol and taking up blogging once a day. (Hopefully not just having a daily moan about the fact I’ve given up drinking alcohol.)
Today’s blog is inspired by the above passage, read at this evening’s Ash Wednesday service before we all paraded out of the church with ashes adorning our faces. To call it disfigurement would do the word a disservice, but I did have to wash it off before my boyfriend felt comfortable kissing me again.
I’m not usually one for high Anglicanism, but I felt it good to begin Lent with prayers, hymns and an absolutely stunning rendition of Miserere by Allegri, where she hit those high notes bang on and with a haunting otherworldly-ness that tingled my spine and made me very glad to be there, despite the granite-like kneeling cushion.
However, I am a cynical tyke and as the priest read from the Gospel I wondered if anyone else had noticed our impending hypocrisy.
Still, no matter. I am compounding my transgression by publicly letting you know that I am fasting, at least in my own small booze-free way.
I’m worried I’m too weak to see the next 40 days through. Stay with me, please.