Tuesday, 25 March 2008

without a city wall

Fish. It's a Christian thing, apparently.



Now then, secular Easters are a bit problematic for me. I could see the point of a Christian one, although the notion of fasting and penance and then the great rejoicing at the resurrection seemed a bit odd; after all, we knew how the story was going to end.

Mind you, we were a bit restrained in our church anyway. Anglican, you know. But they did give us Cadbury's Cream Eggs at Sunday School, and explained that the egg symbolised Christ in the cave; the brown chocolate is the rock, the white gloop is the shroud, and the yellow bit in the middle is Jesus.

Quite apart from the appalling sweetness of cream eggs, where the sugar is practically crystallising out on your teeth, this story was enough to make eating them seem somehow cannibalistic and necrophiliac.

Having shrugged off that side of things, along, apparently, with most of the population, I seem to be left with the Feast of Chocolate. Families have Easter egg hunts, apparently, and the supernatural agent is the Easter Bunny.

I'm a bit bewildered.

Easter Sunday: young K says, "What are we going to do for Easter?"
Me: "We could go to church if you like...."
K: *makes rude noises indicating disgust at notion*

So it goes. She attends a Unitarian church when not with me. It sounds a bit like cheese and wine christianity. Spirituality is elsewhere.

So we go on a bike ride, in search of spring.