Easter: Chocolate Heaven

I have mixed views on Easter.

I resent any intrusion of religion into my daily life, even temporarily. I see the church - at least, the christian church in this country - as an idiosyncrasy in a broadly secular society. When we fill in forms asking for personal details, we scrawl 'C of E' in the appropriate box and move on. We visit churches when we go to weddings and funerals, but really these are parties. If the church is given airtime to 'speak out' on issues that don't concern it or about which it knows nothing, we shout at the television. At Easter though, briefly the church looms large, ever keen to disturb our pleasures and happiness; on Good Friday, the pubs shut early.

But at least we can comfort ourselves with chocolate eggs. I have a great fondness for the Easter egg. Maybe it's a childhood hangover thing. The satisfying snap as the first piece of shell is broken off; picking through the sweeties inside (to make this bit interesting, they have to be different); the careful wrapping of the remaining shell in its foil, as we save a little piece for later.

So on Easter Sunday I'm looking forward to receiving loads of eggs, touch wood. Not that touching wood did much for Jesus, if you like to believe it.