Admittedly, I'm a bit early, but this isn't really about Palm Sunday at all.
It is prompted by someone on a newsgroup closing their post with "Happy Lent, to all those who celebrate it". It was one of those WTF moments. Regular readers will know that I am not religious, but I do respect theological correctness. Respecting theological correctness, I can see no reason to be 'happy' in Lent. It's a time for self-sacrifice and reflection, and looking forward ultimately to salvation, theologically speaking. I have heard 'Happy Easter' many times in both religious and secular settings, but never 'Happy Lent'. It would have made a great deal sense to have said "Happy Spring" (for the Northern hemisphere); even though the Vernal Equinox is some weeks away, there are sufficient signs of new life in my garden to accept a "Happy Spring" in good spirit.
When I was at Primary School, when Valentines wasn't during half-term, crude handmade cards were left anonymously on someone's desk. In teenage years, cheap cards were purchased on the shopping street and sent anxiously and anonymously to acned adolescent boys with no response or feedback, and none expected.
When I was a student, one year VD fell on a Sunday and some group or other had the bright idea of running a postal delivery service across campus, all proceeds going to Karnival*. For several years afterwards I was under the impression that Valentine's Day was all about sending cards, either to one's SO or to some crush, all fairly light-hearted. I could barely escape the lavish displays in shops but rather thought, that's what shops do, doesn't mean I have to take any notice.
It only slowly crept on me that VD was a big exercise in fleecing-of-money. There seem to be two sorts of people in the world. Those for whom Valentine's Day is the ultimate expression of Love,because They Say So, and those who find it the antipathy of spontaneous, personalised, meaningful romance. I am puzzled about this adherence to the Say So of They, especially when you realise who They are. (People who are paid large amounts of money to extract money out of those who don't earn anything like as much money). Perhaps it is partly because of when my birthday falls; I know two people whose birthdays fell last week who have independently of each other expressed frustration that when they wish to go to a restaurant with their husband to celebrate their birthday, they end up being caught up in a Valentine's Day merry-go-round, where they pay more for lower standards and have someone else's idea of romance imposed on them.
It occurred to me this week, that when you read or watch interviews with people, be they real people or celebrities, and they are asked what is the most romantic thing that their lover has ever done, no one ever replies "Bought me a bunch of flowers, and a box of chocolates and took me for Table d'hote on VD".
By chance, I had an important Labour Party meeting on Thursday. It happened to fall on VD, because since Time Immemorial, every branch I have belonged to has met on the second Thursday, monthly. And in any case, Jimmy knows better than to buy me over-priced flowers on VD. He grows flowers year round in the garden, he buys me chocolates way too frequently, and we often have enjoyable twosome meals, at home and in restaurants. all year round. That is less romantic than when he brings me a cup of tea in bed or refuses to let me tackle our recent 'being overrun with mice' problem. This week he painted the kitchen. Not because it was Valentine's Day, but because a) it needed doing and b) he had time and inclination to do it.
I was on a bus on Thursday. Two sights made me wonder about Valentine's Day. Two men carrying flowers. One managed to stab a woman in the hand with the stalks. She was not best pleased. Another man with a bunch of about eight chrysanthemums wrapped in a piece of plastic tied with a cheap ribbon. Take away the plastic and the ribbon, and his love would be left with eight chrysants, probably now dead. I am not being critical of the amount he chose to spend, perhaps they are on a tight budget, and a present should never be measured by its cost, but a small part of me thinks I might be insulted if someone presented me with such a paltry offering, especially when it is likely that today or tomorrow he could get twice the bunch for half the price, and not battered by fellow Tube-and-bus passengers.
But I can kind of understand people buying flowers for their Lover, because They Say So, and humans like being told what to buy by They that Say So. But I cannot understand what I have read on the internet and overheard on people's phone conversations "Happy Valentine's Day" to someone who is obviously not their Valentine. Admittedly, it does come above "Happy Lent" and "Happy Hallowe'en"**. But I think if we must have date specific reasons for wishing other people happiness, we ought to become more imaginative. I would be tempted to introduce obligatory wishing of every woman a Happy International Women's Day, but that coincides with my father's anniversary, so I am disinclined to wish or be wished happiness. And I daresay, other people have reasons for irritation at being insincerely wished happiness on some arbitrary day. That's where moveable feasts have a distinct advantage and I hereby wish to anyone who has ever ridden a donkey in a tourist destination a Happy Palm Sunday.
BTW, someone sent me an anti-VD, but it went into my junk folder. I was in the process of opening it to mark it as 'not spam' but I emptied my junk folder too soon, so to whoever sent it, thanks, I think...
* Back then, don't know about now, Nottingham's Karnival exceeded the proceeds of other Universities' Rags by a degree of magnitude. It says all you have to know about provincial Nottingham University, providing the backbone of middle-England, that the one area in which it excelled was in Charity Fundraising
** An English shopgirl in London once wished me Happy Thanksgiving; I asked her why; she said because it's what they say on the telly. I asked her why; what was 'Thanksgiving' was about; she didn't know. In retrospect, I should have explained that it's when people in Britain celebrate getting rid of a load miserable old killjoy Puritans, but those retorts only come later
