callmemadam | Good Friday

When I was a child, no one did anything at all on Good Friday except go to church, and that was for grown ups only. First thing in the morning, very early, my father would go to the baker's at the end of the street to buy the hot cross buns, which we had for breakfast. This was such a ritual that even now I will not eat a hot cross bun on any other day. In earlier, keener times, I used to make my own: heigh ho.

Yesterday I had a phone call from a carpet company asking if they could come and measure up today. Now, I strongly disapprove of doing this sort of work on Good Friday. OTOH I have procrastinated long enough over the carpet (for our projected Bookroom, watch this space!) and want the job done. Then again, why should I mess up these chaps' arrangements and their business with my scruples? So they are coming and I feel a hypocrite.