Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 24 March 2016
Easter weekend is coming up - it is such a shame that everyone in any major town in the U.K. and Europe is waiting for a nail bomb to go off and spoil it all.
I once had two Easter weekends - one Orthodox one in Crete, followed by an Anglican one back home a week later. We were in a little sea-front hotel, just about to go to sleep, when - on the stroke of midnight - the rattle of machine-gun fire and small-arms came echoing out of the nearby mountains.
I thought it might be a local dispute, until I remembered that all the mountain people have guns up there, if only to fire into the air during weddings and religious holidays. Oh, and they pepper the road signs with bullets from sheer boredom in between feast days. The guns are cherished symbols of masculinity, left over from the German invasion.
I don't know when, if, or how Jesus Christ rose from the dead, but the date we have (give or take seven or eight days) falls fairly exactly on pagan celebrations of re-birth and the beginning of spring. Uncanny.
I used to hang around a Russian family, and every year we would hide eggs in the garden for the children to find. Also every year, we would find ones from the previous year which the children had missed.
I''l tell you what I miss most about being a God-fearing atheist - the classic, harmless, English vicar.