Went and got ashes put on my forehead last week, the usual attractive smudge, to remind us all of the cheerful fact that we're all going to die (as if we'd froget, or even forget about that) (trust us to arrange to meet our priest the one day he'd have physical at a glance proof of whether we were really in the club or not) - so be good for goodness sake.
The funny side of it was that they were providing a take out service, with little bags so you could bring home some ashes if you wanted. Ok that's not the funny bit yet - the funny bit is what kind of little bags were used - they were bank bags. Yep - same ones you normally put your coins into, but since no one has any mula anymore we might as well keep our little bit of burned something (not sure exactly what it's from) in the old capitalist nonbiodegradable plastic purses. It was a beautiful image I thought...
3 comments:
yes it did take ages to get that tiny sheep to balance on the fence like that - thank you for asking
ASh WEdnesday hasn't been the samesince Bertie stopped displaying his humility in the Dáil by presenting his unfurrowed brow appropriately bedecked.
(The ashes are provided by burning the Palms from last Palm Sunday - I'm Mrs Clever Clogs, you know. Not that you were really interested, just couldn't resist the chance to display my wealth of knowledge. There were no sheep involved, they couldn't balance for long enough.)
DQ
No tiny sheep were hurt in the making of this blog
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