1 Ramadhan, 1438
You need a bowl of chicken porridge like this one, on the first day of fasting, I sagely observed to the Missus, supplier of said bowl, just now as I got to grips with its formidable contents. What you don't need is what I acquired around about noon, in the middle of a rehearsal, a clanging headache. Actually it wasn't clanging in the rehearsal, but definitely there, if you know what I mean. And it wasn't caused by the rehearsal, which was of the non-headachy variety.
I don't know, in truth, what caused it, but by 3.00 pm it was clanging on a super-scale and continued to do so through all my marking of the afternoon and early evening. Noi conjectured it was brought on by the thoughts of all the work I needed to do, despite embarking on the fast, and she may well be right. By the way, I'd rather put work out of the way and focus on the demands of the season, but in my world that luxury doesn't exist. Fortunately I have the mild deprivations of Ramadhan to remind me of all the other luxuries so easily, readily, thoughtlessly accessed that I forget they are luxuries. Until a headache usefully reminds me.
Selamat berpuasa! to all who are able to learn those same first vital lessons.