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Anything for the Weekend, Sir?
There are certain things which we bold, brave, chaps are a trifle reluctant to venture into a shop to purchase. It is not seemly, for instance, to be seen in Marks and Spencer's lingerie department, picking up something for our nearest and dearest, even with their permission. In the olden days, Chemists' shops invariably had female assistants so we young bucks were forced to go the barber's and have a haircut even when we didn't need one in order to - well, you catch my drift.
We are approaching another embarrassing millstone this month; the Valentine's card. Some considerable time ago I recall shuffling into a stationer's, beetroot red in the face and perspiring copiously, to use my meagre pocket money in order to send greetings to someone who I secretly admired. I disguised my hand on the envelope and wrote a message, which I obtained from a phrase book, in Russian. All the effort was in vain. She couldn't read Russian and I was too shy to confess. She went out with a boy from the Secondary Modern.
All this romantic stuff about an obscure Christian martyr is a fable. February 14th is actually the Commemoration of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Cyril who invented the Cyrillic alphabet, remember? Sending a Saint Cyril's Day card to the object of your affection hardly has a ring about it. Asking "darling, will you be my Methodius", is not going to have them swooning into your arms, is it?
More seriously for the incurable romantic, what used to be Saint Valentine's Day, until it was abolished, is, this year, in Lent. The lady may love Milk Tray but it is of no use abseiling into her boudoir to secretly deliver a box. This is the season of fasting and abstinence, chocolates are out. Alcohol is prohibited, so you can't even present her with a magnum of champagne. It could all be so boring unless you consider that Lent is really about love. We give up what we enjoy to remind us that Jesus fasted for forty days in the wilderness and was tempted as we are, yet without sin, for the love of us all. That's a better thought than an expensive bit of cardboard and a few meaningless words in Russian.
May God bless you all, Fr. Allan
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