I don't know about anyone else, but I can take or leave Valentines Day. It's just a commercialized supposed 'holiday' where people feel like they have to be on the brink of bankruptcy just to show their partner how much they love them.
And then there's Easter. Now I'm not religious, and I never did understand how a chocolate egg came to represent how the oracle, Jesus, rose from the dead after being nailed to a cross for three days solid. But I usually view Easter as a time for us to binge on the 3 for £5 ASDA easter egg offer, constantly stuffing chocolate down our throats until the point of bodily comubustion. And then what? We spend days afterward feeling guilt, affraid to jump on the scales to see the damage we've brought upon our bodies.
But a day that I am only too willing to celebrate is Pancake Day. Now, I've never once in my twenty years of living, stuck to my lent vow,but I am only too willing to oblidge to the indulgance part of the fat, butter and eggs consumption which make up one of the most delicious foods; My mums pancakes.
Every year I practically starve my body of food until the time when my mum gets home from work, the cooker goes on and out come the bowls as she proceeds to whip up the batter mix.
And then my brother, Matt, and I face one another like some kind of sibling duel, as we battle to eat the most pancakes. He, blessed with a high matoblism that allows him to shovel food down his throat like we hide him under a cuboard all year long and starve him, and still resemble a rake, usually wins. But this year, pancake is a whole month late. Which means, i'm craving pancakes. Which means, come Pancake Day, Matthew O'Brien, it's war.
And then there's Easter. Now I'm not religious, and I never did understand how a chocolate egg came to represent how the oracle, Jesus, rose from the dead after being nailed to a cross for three days solid. But I usually view Easter as a time for us to binge on the 3 for £5 ASDA easter egg offer, constantly stuffing chocolate down our throats until the point of bodily comubustion. And then what? We spend days afterward feeling guilt, affraid to jump on the scales to see the damage we've brought upon our bodies.
But a day that I am only too willing to celebrate is Pancake Day. Now, I've never once in my twenty years of living, stuck to my lent vow,but I am only too willing to oblidge to the indulgance part of the fat, butter and eggs consumption which make up one of the most delicious foods; My mums pancakes.
Every year I practically starve my body of food until the time when my mum gets home from work, the cooker goes on and out come the bowls as she proceeds to whip up the batter mix.
And then my brother, Matt, and I face one another like some kind of sibling duel, as we battle to eat the most pancakes. He, blessed with a high matoblism that allows him to shovel food down his throat like we hide him under a cuboard all year long and starve him, and still resemble a rake, usually wins. But this year, pancake is a whole month late. Which means, i'm craving pancakes. Which means, come Pancake Day, Matthew O'Brien, it's war.
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