Well, I just bought my first pack of hot cross buns. Until now, I’ve vaguely tried to adhere to some notion of what’s appropriate to the season, but I guess I have to accept that Easter begins as soon as the last marked-down mince pies and Christmas puddings have been cleared from the shelves. Then I suppose there’s a month or two each for Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day before Christmas starts again in October (plus the various smaller occasions like Valentine’s Day).
My capitulation to the Zeitgeist on this matter doesn’t worry me too much. After all, I like hot cross buns. But I’m getting increasingly frequent comments on my furrowed brow. It’s no longer seen as the product of deep thought, but rather an indication that I’m too cheap to spring for Botox.