Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, far more important than the Valentine's Day it happened to land on because all around the world ex-Catholic sots, a massive tribe, give up the drink for 46 days out of habit and some sort of sense of obligation.
Of course the Church says you don't have to fast or abstain on the six Sundays of Lent, I know, so really it should just be 40 days off the booze. But those of us round the world intent on lashing ourselves like the flagellants of old ignore this and grit our teeth and do the whole 46 days.
I mean, otherwise you might as well shift to Ramadan, which is only 30 days. But giving up alcohol to observe a Muslim month of fasting seems inappropriate. So Lent it's got to be with no Sundays off.
Non-Catholic non-believers sneer at us doing our annual Lenten observance. They ridicule us. "All that's left of your faith," they scoff. "Why bother?"
Why bother? Well not the least for the look of alarm on the faces of modern people with modern ideas when they offer you a drink and you tell them, sorry, you're observing Lent. You might as well propose a flat earth.
And all that's left of our faith? I went to see that Saoirse Ronan movie Ladybird at the Capitol last Saturday and the scene where the convent girls casually lie around snacking on communion wafers from a jar brought gasps of horror from sections of the audience — sections which very much included me.