Egg

– There seems to be some chocolate left.
– Yes. Most of it, in fact. I've been very self-controlled.
– I thought the point was to recklessly abandon all self-control after the austerity of Lent.
– I know, and maybe I would have when I was younger, but nowadays I can't seem to summon up much enthusiasm.
– Reckless abandon tends to work better when you can show some enthusiasm.
– You see, I can't help thinking of all the health benefits resulting from the weeks of self-denial.
– I can't say I've noticed.
– You don't think I look more – svelte?
– I'm not entirely sure what svelte looks like.
– Besides, I tend to feel ill if I eat too much chocolate in one go.
– That must be a terrible burden for you.
– There were stories in the news about people turning up at A&E departments complaining of stomach pains brought on by over-indulgence.
– When I over-indulge I can rarely summon up enough energy to get off the sofa, let alone make my way to hospital.
– I think the point was that it was a waste of medical staff's time for a trivial ailment. Especially one due to gluttony!
– I suppose it's not always easy to know when to stop. That's why I never bought you an Easter egg.
– I noticed.
– I was only thinking of your health. I hope you appreciate it.

Hour

Easter Monday. I feel worn out, although seemingly for no particular reason, having had a fairly uneventful weekend. Perhaps it is a consequence of the initial rushing around stocking the fridge with enough food to keep me going while the shops are shut (which nowadays amounts to a couple of hours at most over the whole weekend, but seeing there was a chance my offspring would appear for a meal or two, it seemed justified to invest in a substantial quantity of emergency supplies). Or perhaps it was the hours spent each day in a cold and draughty church furnished with notably unforgiving wooden pews. Either way, I have been left feeling listless and lethargic, or at least marginally more so than usual.

At least today I managed to get out for a moderately energetic walk, having been pinned indoors yesterday by unpredictable gales and showers which swept across the heavens all day long as Storm Katie wreaked havoc around the country. (Again, they really need to find more intimidating names for these storms, but no matter.) Yesterday started badly by my not realising that the clocks had gone forward overnight, or, to be more accurate, everyone's clocks apart from my own. That rather threw into disarray all my plans for the day. Even granted that I didn't have all that many plans (mainly ones around when to put the lamb in the oven), it took me a while to recover from the generally uneasy feeling that I had lost something important (i.e., an hour of my life) without any prior warning. Of course, the Sunday newspaper politely inquired whether I had remembered to put my clocks forward, but by then it was too late. They ought to advertise these things more widely the day before. To tell the truth, it did appear on the calendar on my phone and the one hanging on the dining-room wall, but you don't necessarily look at these every day. Not at all the small print, at any rate.

Hope

Spring is officially here, though the weather still cannot quite make up its mind. The daffodils and crocuses are out in droves, with an occasional sprinkling of cherry blossom. But you cannot help feeling they are all at risk from a sudden cold snap. A bit of sunshine over the Bank Holiday weekend would be welcome.

The long weeks of Lent are almost over, the sombre events of Holy Week still to come. The next few days will be an opportunity to pause, take a moment out of the noise and bustle of everyday life, and reflect on the meaning of the Easter season. Perhaps to make a few more resolutions to replace those that have slipped away. To try to live better. To believe in a happier future.

And yet... And yet... Another terrorist outrage, this time in Brussels. It is difficult to comprehend the depth of hatred that could justify and execute such horrors. We easily forget how thin, how fragile, is the veneer of civilisation. We easily lose hope.

Daffodil

– Nice to see the daffodils out.
– I thought it was meant to be snowing.
– Well, it was, last week. But things seem changeable at the moment. Hence the daffodils.
– It's not really very convenient.
– That's nature for you. Always does what you least expect.
– It doesn't help with planning my wardrobe. One day it's warm spring sunshine, and the next we go back to wintry blasts.
– I circumvent that problem by simply wearing the same clothes all year round.
– That must get uncomfortable.
– Well, only for nine months or so in the year. But the discomfort is offset by not having to worry about what to put on in the mornings.

Slush

– Spring is here at last. Only a few weeks till Easter.
– I notice the snow has almost melted.
– There wasn't much snow.
– There was enough. And what there was was cold and wet.
– You must expect a bit of snow sometimes. Even in spring.
– I rather expect sunshine and daffodils and little baby bunnies bouncing around the meadows.
– Well, I am sure all those things will arrive in due course. But Easter is a little earlier than usual.
– Hence the snow?
– You should look on the bright side. This could be your last sight of snow till next winter.
– It's what I was hoping for.
– It looks very pretty, especially when you see it carpeting the hills.
– You could say the same for daffodils and baby bunnies.
– They will arrive eventually.
– Will they? The daffodils are smothered under a layer of permafrost by now. And as for the bunnies, they will have migrated south for a bit of warmth.
– I'm not sure rabbits migrate.
– Believe me, when it's this cold, they migrate.