Forty days and forty nights. I wonder if Jesus felt that his own stretch in the desert flew past as quickly as this quarantine has done for us so far. He was fasting and resisting incessant temptations from Satan himself throughout which makes me think we’ve had a bit of an easier ride than he did. The only temptation on a satanic level that I’ve had since the confinement began has been snacking. As I am spending every waking moment within 15 metres of a well-stocked kitchen, it is hard not to be enticed by the seductive snacks that I know lie in the cupboards. With the toilet conveniently placed at the far end of the kitchen, I find myself walking past an array of tantalising treats far too frequently for a man with as little willpower as I do when it comes to lip smacking goodies. I now understand why for years my mum has carefully hidden any supply of nuts and seeds from my dad. Like him, I am totally incapable of not diving into an open bag of nuts and greedily scoffing handful after handful. Fortunately, Satan probably hadn’t discovered salted pistachios otherwise I’m sure Jesus would have caved.