The bizarre thing is, I’m really rather enjoying Lent. Not quite sure what I’m doing wrong, but I’m not missing the booze to speak of at all…

Here’s a pleasant spin off, for instance. We have a lovely Muslim family staying with us for a week. Absolutely gorgeous. And today we did a deal. We bought the food: they cooked it. Obviously we got by far the better of the bargain.

For some reason that I haven’t yet bothered to analyse, orthodox Muslims come to our house and feel at home. Even Abdul, who lived with us for a year and had to smell the bacon at breakfast and witness Ben’s staggeringly scary consumption of beer in the evenings, nevertheless said it was like being back with his family in Lahore.

I mostly put it down to my father living with us, probably.

Anyway, tonight we were treated to the most awesome series of curries which you wouldn’t get in the best Punjabi restaurant in town. Not to mention the company, which was stimulating and fascinating and enlightening and inspiring and all the things I wish we were.

We have so much in common! Prayers before the meal. Value of family life. Love of korma.

And of course we don’t drink. See. Nothing but water and ginger beer on our table.

Yes, all right, I realise I could have said, you know we’re in our Ramadan…

But I thought it was just, well, nicer not to disillusion anybody.