PESACH - OY, THE AGONY! OY, THE ECSTASY!

Now with Purim safely behind us, it's time to address ourselves to that wonderful festival, the celebration of our release from bondage, our emergence as a nation, the Festival of the Matzot, delight of Jewish children and bane of the Jewish housewife. Yes, it's almost PesAAARGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE STUDY EATING A COOKIE?! I TOLD YOU NEVER TO WALK OUT OF THE KITCHEN WITHOUT BRUSHING OFF THE CRUMBS, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET LISTENED TO AROUND HERE, GO BACK NOW, DROP THE COOKIE, NO DON'T DROP THE COOKIE, EAT IT IN THE GARDEN! Where was I? Sorry, something comes over me in the post-Purim pre-Pesach interval. If there was ever a user-hostile festival, this is it. Don't get me wrong, I get as sentimental and moved by the grandeur of the Exodus as the next Jew, but only after the whole celebration is over and is only a dim memory - a bit like giving birth, really.

Talking about release from bondage; that may be true for some, but if scrubbing out the under-sink cupboard on one's hands and knees with a toothbrush isn't slavery, I don't know what is. It's times like these that you know G-d isn't a woman.

Look, for all my bellyaching, I'd have to admit that once the cleaning, shopping and cooking is over, I really enjoy Pesach. It is a time full of symbolism, of purification of the soul as well as of the home, and very spiritually uplifting. The only problem is that the cleaning, shopping and cooking are never over, and every time I sit down I fall asleep from exhaustion. The real miracle of Pesach is that I don't burn off all the calories from the chocolate and macaroons by running around like a lunatic.

I can't even really complain about the Pesach food. I even like hand-made shmurah matza, but then I eat anything, and my mother always told me how I used to enjoy chewing cardboard as a baby. And what can compare to a Seder? Where else can you watch some obscure male relative turn bright blue and speechless because he underestimated the Maror (macho horseradish to the uninformed)? When else do Jews officially condone passing out and sliding under the table because of four cups of treacherously sweet wine, because only wimps drink grape juice? How many dinner parties have you been to where you stuff yourselves with lettuce sandwiches, potatoes and hard-boiled eggs after waiting 2 hours for the food, and that's even before the real meal starts? No, sorry, if you like gourmet cooking, give the Seder a miss.

But then there's the musical entertainment, starting from when the well-prompted Nachasel of a four-year-old is struck by terminal stage-fright during MaNishtana (the Four Questions) right through to the quaint folk melodies about solitary goats eaten by cats which are killed by dogs which are trampled by oxen which are beaten by sticks etc etc. (Seems to lose something in translation.)

All right, so we all know that Pesach is hard work, but does it help to kvetch about it? Besides, what really gets my goat (small Seder joke) are the smug Balabostas who are always ahead of you. They are K le P right down to the sterilised fridge TWO WEEKS before you are. They have filled their freezers with everything down to the potato flour lokshen, and use all their free time telling you about it. What's the point? All they've done is condemn their families to eating meals out in the garden so as to keep the house crumbless. Do they install laminar air flow devices in their doorways to ensure that no chometz (forbidden leaven) drifts in on their children? Bunch of obsessives, the lot of them. I wish they'd tell me how they did it. HEY, YOU! YES, YOU WITH THE CRACKER HANGING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! WHAT ARE YOU, DEAF?! DIDN'T I JUST TELL YOU TO STAY IN THE KITCHEN? OK, SO GO ALREADY!!  Best wishes to all of you for a relaxed, Kosher and happy PesAAARGH! WHO LET THE BABY INTO THE BEDROOM WITH A SANDWICH?