When Ramadan began I thought it might be a good time time to kick bad habits, (and believe me, some of them needed a really good kicking) pray for health and peace, and make vast amounts of samosas to freeze for Iftari.

I looked forward to sweeping my faults under the carpet (it has to be a big carpet) and try to be a better person.

People pray, give to charity, we don't backbite.

There was something special about Ramadan. People were nicer to each other and had more time for one another.

You didn't see marauding gangs of youths strutting on the streets eating slabs of donner pizza from a cardboard box and then dumping the leftovers.

No, they were at home tucking into samosas, pakoras, shammi kebabs and other healthy snacks. Or 500 Marlboro Lights, I don't know.

At least some of our more vulgar behaviour was curbed. No swearing, gossiping, illicit trysts in NCP car parks or tuning into Richard and Judy (reprehensible behaviour at the best of times, never mind during Ramadan).

Well, that was the theory.

But despite MY best efforts to turn over a new leaf something always goes wrong at this time of year. Fasting as we all know is obligatory for every sane adult. (Well, that counts me out then.)

But seriously, I was shamed into submission by an eight-year-old who told me that she had kept all the fasts and an army of pregnant women who despite being told that they are exempt, kept them just to make me look bad.

But I get migraine attacks I would say. We'll show you the meaning of attacks, they glowered at me.

I tried to do other things to do my bit for Ramadan such as helping my mother.

But I always ended up... up to my eyeballs trying to make samosas. And I mean up to my eyeballs as the gluey substance made from a sophisticated blend of Elephant chupatty flour and water sticks my eyelashes together.

Ho hum, I certainly don't have the skills of a domestic goddess and I couldn't rustle up parathas at 4am and I did get bad headaches at the most inopportune times.

Yet when it came to the Eid celebrations I was at front of the queue.

Hmm, something unsavoury is definitely afoot here. Let us just hope it is not one of my samosas.

Eid Mubarak!