Lent, I suppose, shouldn't be fun, but liturgically it can provide novelties, and change is always fun. And Lent does provide us with novelties, or rather, with whatever the opposite is of novelty ... antiquelties, perhaps. Take the Prayer over the People which concludes the Lenten Masses ... Oops ... you didn't realise that in Lent Mass did end with an Oratio super Populum? That's because the postconciliar 'reform' abolished them. The Editio Tertia Missalis Romani of 2002 brought them back; but the new ICEL English translation which will restore them to anglophone worship is not yet authorised. Here at S Thomas's, of couse, we use them on weekdays and take them from the good old English Missal.
Before the final blessing of the Mass was introduced, first by Dr Cranmer and then by his imitator Pope S Pius V, there had been no sacerdotal dismissal of the people for centuries in the Roman Liturgy. But, anciently, the Pontiff dismissed the people with a prayer said 'over' them. When, in 538, Pope Vigilius was arrested just before the end of Mass by the Imperial Byzantine Special Branch and dragged off to the East (have the Orthodox apologised yet for all those Popes who were arrested and dragged off to Constantinople to be tortured, imprisoned, or starved to death?), the pious Roman mob followed him to the boat yelling that they wanted 'the prayer'. He chanted it; the mob yelled Amen; and the boat moved off. The Prayer over the People was a blessing, in the sense that blessing means the priest prays a group from which he implicitly excludes himself by praying, not for 'us', but for 'you' or 'them' (that is how it differs from the post communionem prayer). In the preconciliar rite, it was preceded by Let us Pray; and a diaconal Humble your heads before God. The modern rite discontinues that, and orders the prayer to be said versus populum rather than, as anciently, versus orientem.
Archaisms tend to survive in seasons like Lent. One reason why this is particularly true of the Roman Rite is that only in Lent was there an unbroken sequence of daily masses, stational masses presided over by the pontiff himself rather than by parish priests. Daily through the streets of the City there were the busy processions of the Pontifical plate and of the curial clergy and the pope himself journeying first to the Church of Meeting for the Collecta and thence to the church appointed for the Statio. The entire Christian people of Rome witnessed this great annual exercise and the deeply sanctified memories thus created tended to make Lent a time more than usually resistant to innovation.
And of course, there are the different vestments in Lent. We must remember that the chasuble was not always exclusively worn by bishops and priests. As the normal out-of-home garment of middle-class citizens of the Empire (the toga being by now as rarely worn as top hat and tails are among us), the chasuble was worn, if not by everybody, at least by the clergy of all ranks. The practice of tarting up deacons and subdeacons in dalmatics or tunicles invaded Rome rather later; in the period of the classical sacramentaries they wore just chasubles. In the archaising season of Lent, Mass began with the deacon and subdeacon wearing chasubles rolled up in front (or chasubles made to look as if they're rolled up in front); when we got to the parts of Mass where deacons and subdeacons have to be physically quite busy, they took it off and rolled it lengthways, slung it over the left shoulder and tied a knot in it under the right armpit (that's the theory; in fact they wore a piece of cloth made to look like a chasuble rolled lengthways; it is popularly known as a broad stole because that is rather what it looks like).
We sometimes use these at S Thomas's. The problem is that in the years since Rome abolished these garments, somebody has vandalised them in the interests of cannibalisation ...