Once upon a time, it was Shrove Tuesday, and a poor little housewife from Olney was making pancakes to use up the rest her eggs and sugar before Lent started. Absorbed in her task, she lost track of the time, and suddenly the bells sounding the Shrove service were ringing across the town.
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A very pious woman, the poor little housewife rushed out the door and raced to church, frying pan and pancake still in hand.
Many years later, the housewife's act is commemorated throughout England by the eating of pancakes and the holding of pancake races, where members run around a track flipping a pancake, sometimes dressed as housewives.
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Being pious people ourselves,albeit of a different faith, and wanting to engage with the local culture, Jeff and I decided to observe the day. We made pancakes and blueberry muffins for breakfast and went to watch the Parliamentary pancake races.
Parliament did not dress as housewives. But some of the runners were very intent on their pancake-flipping.
We still have eggs in the fridge, but my piety doesn't extend far enough to not eat eggs for the next month. I kind of like eggs. And milk.