My Little Ramazan - Day Eight

Weds 18th August 2010

My friend Jenny has just arrived and she is mortified. Unfortunately, I was so wrapped up in my own twisted premonitions in the run up to Ramazan that I failed to predict how Jenny might feel about all of this. Especially as she has undertaken the epic task of bringing her two and a half year old daughter on the journey from Preston to Inverness. Especially as she and I will be spending the next few days with two toddlers and finding a multitude of ways to entertain them. Especially as her usual early evening pick-me-up would involve at least one large glass of Chardonnay and one large piece of cake. As I said, she’s mortified.

Obviously, there’s nothing stopping Jenny from giving her body the necessary nourishment. I don’t mind if she flips open the biscuit tin in my presence. We do, after all, have approximately eleven years of friendship based on nattering over shared pastries, cups of tea, and, of course, mutual alcohol consumption. And although I am technically allowed to eat and drink anything after sundown, that ‘anything’ definitely does not include alcohol. Mustafa and I decided at the start of this that we could quite easily go one month without any alcohol in the house. But how is it going to make Jenny feel? How did I not think of this before? And how, you might ask, are we possibly going to watch X Factor on Saturday night without sharing the joy that is wine, chips and dips? Well, like I said, she’s mortified.

Nevertheless, she has the graciousness to have shown some interest and she joined us in our evening feast tonight which – although wineless – was really enjoyable. Oh, and remember what I said about not missing any foods in particular? Forget that. Garlic bread. That’s what it’s all about. Methinks tomorrow will entail a trip to the Co-op to rid them of their garlic bread stock. Baguettes, flatbreads, dough balls – I don’t care as long as it’s oozing with that beautiful garlic elixir of life.

I will, however, arise at 4am tomorrow to ensure toothpaste, floss and Listerene has reached every possible crevice in my mouth. Then, hopefully, Jenny and her little girl will not immediately jet back to Preston if only to get away from the horror that is my breath. Because then, you know, I would be mortified.