Genuine Pâques Fear

So Pâques means Easter in French. As an Irish lady I know all about Easter in terms of the Roman Catholic religion – Jesus on the cross, Lent, no fish on Friday (already a vegetarian mofos – I am the best Catholic-that-isn’t-a-Catholic in the room; Christian victory is mine!) the Resurrection, the purple robe and so on. Of course, Pâques in the commercial sense is not so different from an Irish Easter with chocolate eggs being the order of the day. I want to refrain from saying Pâques because I have to cut and paste it due to the little hat (circonflexe) over the “a” – not having a French clavier (keyboard) is starting to really get on my nerves – so from here on it shall be French Easter.

Why am I afraid?

Because I am going up into the Ardennes again for family lunch following a family dinner – on the same day! I shall have to be rolled home. Added to this will be chocolate, chocolate chocolate. Every time we make the trip, I feel like when I return I have gained five pounds. Not good. Tomorrow I’m going to fast a bit, like a pilgrim before Thanksgiving. Irish culture centres around alcohol, French culture centres around food. Both are equally bad for my ass to be honest. Still find I am struggling a bit against the host country.Even today in the patisserie/chocolatier centre of the world, I bought a little mass-produced, preservative-laden golden Lindt bunny. And it felt so good.

Stubborn is as stubborn does.

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