1 Ramadhan, 1439
I was doing pretty well up to 8.00 am. That was the first time in the day I found myself thinking happily for a few seconds about the cup of tea I would soon treat myself to, only to abruptly remember that such joy was not to be. Not until 7.07 pm. Several further equally painful moments followed in the course of a demanding day, and, I'm sad to say, several tetchy moments of something approaching irritation.
By the way, losing your temper means you've compromised your fast, so absolutely must be avoided.
It's the same each year. I find myself hoping that this time round the experience will be appropriately rewarding in an almost serene manner; and each year the experience turns out to be about finding myself in quite another sense. But a more real and valuable one, I hope.