Monday, 9 April 2012

From a Lenten Past.

It’s mid- lent, well, near mid-lent, well….

today's post is taken from deep within the archives - the editor

Actually it’s still near the beginning of Lent, officially day 10, and as you may remember, if you plough through the pages of this blog, I have given up writing on my blog, coffee, chocolate and alcohol.

Trouble is, of course, I still feel like writing.

And eating chocolate.

And drinking wine.

And coffee.

And there’s the rub – coffee!

I just sat down in the Café des Sports – a popular watering hole talked about here – as I am meeting my daughter who is coming back from her boyfriends and needs a taxi to take her home so that she can get her stuff and go out again.

I’ll take her there too.

In fact, it’s her who drives, I just have to sit there and wonder how this young child suddenly became a young woman.

Anyway, I sat down, and ordered a croissant, orange juice and a coffee – a late(ish) breakfast.

Then as it was placed on the table I remembered my Lentish promise.

What to do?

Do I drink it – thus justifying the carbon footprint I had inadvertently added to the world and maybe reinforcing, with an exception, my caffine abstinence.

Or do I leave it there on the table and add to my reputation in this café as the guy who sits in the corner and forgets why he is there?

I hate waste.

I love purity.

Forty days without, is pure, forty days without except once when I forgot, is a mess.

And do I write this, which I would today, but post it on my blog a month and more later when Lent and all it’s trials and tribulations are done and dusted?


I think I’ll go and loiter along side the shelves of chocolate in the local supermarket whilst I’m here.

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