A Welshman, an Englishman and an American were having a drink.
At first they talked about cars and farms, and true to form, the American had the swankiest car and the biggest farm. Then they got to talking about children's names.
'My son was born on St David's Day', remarked the Welshman, 'So - look you, we obviously Christened him David.'
'That's a real coincidence', observed the Englishman', My son was born on Michaelmas Day, 29th of September, so we decided to call him Michael.'
'That's remarkable', piped up the American, 'Exactly the same thing happened with my son Pancake.'
Being generally oblivious, and also (unrelatedly) from America, I thought this joke was hilarious before I learned from my lovely British ambassador Annie that there is actually a Pancake Day in Britain! I realized, of course, that it must be the best holiday ever.
And it coincides with our Mardi Gras. And so after being reminded that it was actually pancake day by the other Brit in my office, the lovely Bec, I went all the way to Tesco to buy pancake ingredients, and Tim made us pancakes and we ate them and it was the best pancake day ever!
First we mixed up an ancient pancake day recipe. I can't relay the whole thing, but it involves handfuls and dashes and so forth, so you can tell it's authentic.
And we had an assortment of toppings, including lime juice and sugar, marmalade, strawberry jam, and real maple flavoured syrup (with a U in it and everything.)
We presently persuaded Bert to partake in our Pancake Day provender.
A bit, anyway.