Easter (my, how inventive these titles are...)

It'th Eathter and we all thaw cute widdle babby wambs in the field and went to Mathth at dawn an' heard all the wee birdieeth thinging befowe da thun came up (at a bwoody antithothial hour too, those wee bathtardth) an' then we got a fwee bacon butty fow gettin' up tho eawly.

...

Sometimes I like to make people work for their reading-of-blog. Besides, Kathryn's babyness (now diminishing rapidly, since she can say her R's and L's and my name properly) is still cute to think about and refer back to, although writing all of the above makes me feel like my bwain is bein' mushed againtht a fwuffy marshmawwow wall by a vewwy detewmined widdle bunny wabbit.

For proper explanation, the local chapel organises a dawn Mass on Easter Sunday morning. In compensation for the inconvenience caused by forcedly getting out of bed at 5am (or if you're me, staying awake a while past your bedtime), and the accompanying blurry misery being compounded by the darkness, cold, mizzly rain and having to stand up for 45minutes, the Mass is much shorter than any other Easter service; also, they organise a barbecue grill - large size, cooking & keeping warm industrial amounts of sausages and bacon throughout the service - for the attendees at the end of the service.

(This is why it's better to stand at the back of the crowd. Were there more people in attendance, perhaps one day some unlucky parishioner in the middle of the crowd would be lost under the boots of the ravening bacon-zombies*.)

They also provide tea. :) If you've never lived in a Northern Irish household, you may not understand the importance of this, but trust me: if the barbecue was abandoned due to money problems, the real revolt would only ensue if they stopped giving people a cup of tea after. :P

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We went back to the house after, and my parents gave me an interesting Easter present - a largeish, Lindt Gold Bunny soft toy. It's about the size of a real rabbit, and had a zipper along the stomach that opened to show a hidey-hole inside with tiny Lindt bunnies inside... I may have temporarily forgotten my audience and said, "Heehee, bunny Caesarian!" when playing about with the zipper.

Naturally, I think I was being remarkably restrained - I could have talked about the wonders of rabbit dissection had I actually been trying to be tasteless, besides which, the wains didn't hear, and it wasn't like my parents and Gerard wouldn't have thought of it themselves if given time to play about with the zipper.

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We arrived a bit late at my granny's house (a full 2-minute drive away), had dinner and got nice chocolatey Easter things (only one was an Easter egg, before some smartarse comments, "They're called eggs"), and Louise refused to do anything along the lines of washing or drying the dishes.

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Happy Easter! Here's hoping everyone has silly amounts of free chocolate to enjoy, with a separate well-wishing for Richard since I can't really guess at what multiple of "silly amounts" would be needed to create a noticeable increase in his chocolate provisions and so will settle for "I hope you are enjoying chocolate during or shortly before or after reading this." In fact, that one applies to everyone else too. :)

Ironically, right now I really want a grape.

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*Zombified by the hunger for bacon. Not made of zombified bacon.