HOLY WEEK ahead and Palm Sunday behind us. Little children handed their palms to be blessed – puzzled but excited – and not sure exactly why.
Older siblings perhaps pointing out that in a few days the Easter eggs will be shared out.
Another year and the more or less same set of stories across the newspapers here in Britain lambasting the National Trust for not associating egg hunts they are promoting with Easter itself.
This year the story line appears to have been extended to various chocolate egg manufacturers who have dropped Easter from what is usually quite lavish packaging.
As far as I am concerned I would not wish to indulge in an egg hunt at a National Trust property at Easter or at any other time. Much less buy a confectionary that might have some chocolate somewhere lost in the packaging displayed on supermarket shelves.
Eggs in shape but appear to be largely sugars held in place and coloured by a range of other ingredients. It is reported that for some of these ‘eggs’ the packaging makes up a third of the weight of the object!
However each to his own, I would not deny any family their way of celebrating Easter though it does seem to me rather churlish of confectioners or the National Trust to omit a nod of respect in the direction of the progenitor and their benefactor in their attempts to make a profit.
I recall in my youth egg hunts held only at Easter yet wherever the family happened to be.
Whether we were in Switzerland or Japan we made our own Easter eggs.
Fresh eggs were boiled hard, then decorated with our childish hand in garish patterns and colours and in due course hidden by my mother and father.
Come Easter Day my siblings and I hunted them down around the house and the garden. Each of us equipped with a basket or other convenient receptacle rushing to collect as many eggs as possible each in noisy competition with the other.
I cannot recall ever winning or losing.
I still recall the breathless excitement and the warmth of the bright early spring sunshine.
I do remember our family sitting around the table and breaking our fast together as the collected eggs were shared between us, noting this or that egg with a pattern or hand that reminded me that I had decorated this or that egg.
Smashing the shells, peeling back, dipping in a little salt then feasting on the contents.