oh who cares why....

So, Lent starts tomorrow.

Which makes today Mardi Gras.

But the British, of which I am one (both spiritually and ancestorally), don't like calling things Gras.
Fat.
So crass. So French. So Bestial.
Beyond tacky.

But, the people over there in the UK still had to fast - Which meant that we had to get rid of our eggs and our sugar and our butter and all the good stuff you might eat drastically less of during Lent. One last culinary hoorah. And what better thing to do that with than pancakes.

Or something.

Who cares why the English eat pancakes. But they do, and so do we displaced Anglicans at heart.

And who wants pancakes without bacon?

So, I'm getting out the griddle and making a pancake feast.

This serves another example of the markers we give children. I could preach them a sermon about Shrove Tuesday or have them read an article (and eldest baby girl may have been doing a bit of that today), but you know what they'll remember most?

Syrup.

Tomorrow, we repent. But today, we drizzle and sop and all things sticky.