Having just spent a lovely Easter Sunday watching kids having fun searching for eggs I’ve been reminded of past Easters.
Mum didn’t believe in Easter Eggs so the only time we had any as kids was the year she was away holidaying in New Zealand at Easter. I remember waking up in my nursery bed, which had little sides near the head end and resting on the ledge that the side provided was a chocolate chicken. I must have been only about 3 then but I remember it after all these years as a very happy time.
Growing up we attended what seemed like very long Easter church services and between the ages of about 9 and 12 the horror of human cruelty, so blatantly portrayed at Easter, really tormented me.
I’m glad I can now spend the Easter break in a way that rejuvenates me.
You didn’t know that about Nana did you?