It only seems two minutes since Christmas. A quarter of the year has already gone as we enter another Easter weekend. This was a time of year that was incredibly important and busy for me as I grew up in our home in Corby. I became a chorister at the age of seven and began singing my heart out at Saint Columba’s Church on Studfall Avenue. I remember my Grand Mother being particularly proud that I should see fit to join a church choir although, unknown to her and other members of my family, the truth really lay behind my love of the psalms and the incredible sounds that only come from a church organ. Every Wednesday evening I would trot along Thoroughsale Road and into Studfall for the weekly choir practice in preparation for the following weeks services. These might involve at least two services on a Sunday and/or a funeral or a wedding, for which we would each be paid two shillings: two and sixpence for a head chorister! I always loved the Easter services because it gave one the opportunity to sing songs and hymns that one would never sing at any other time of the year. Much like Christmas carols or the rousing tunes at harvest time, they were like old friends. Today is Good Friday, a day that for many families heralds the start of an early spring break: a chance to get away from it all taking advantage of the ironically named bank holiday. Our home is full of Easter eggs for the children (and adults if truth be known) to be given on Sunday morning yet, quite seriously, why do we still give this symbol of rebirth at a date dictated by the Christian calendar, when the excessive amounts of packaging bears no relevance to their significance? This being the case I can only assume that, yet again, we are buying and selling something because it’s ‘the done thing’ as apposed to giving a genuine symbol of the Christian faith.
Its not that it bothers me greatly, after all, we still have hot cross buns, and I do like chocolate. My belief is that if ‘they’ did, quite brutally, they wouldn’t sell. So my question is, just out of curiosity, why have you bought Easter eggs this year? My Grand Mother used to give me a painted boiled egg to be rolled down the nearest hill as a symbol of the stone being rolled away from the tomb of Christ. When I got home from church as a child I’d do the same with my chocolate eggs so at least they had a reason for being, but even in those days there was nothing on the packaging to suggest that that egg couldn’t have been bought or sold at any other time of the year. Anyway, wasn’t it lovely to see the sun again last week! Here’s wishing you and your family a very happy Easter.