Easter Sunday

I remember the days when we woke up early on Easter Sunday and hid the Easter eggs all over the garden, and then later when they woke up we had three very excited little boys who rushed outside in their pyjamas to find their eggs. Sigh....gone are those days - this morning I woke up to a house full of sleepy young adults, chocolate being the last thing on their minds. In fact Luke and his three friends who had stayed over after the party last night were feeling and looking very hungover - I took sympathy on them and cooked them eggs for breakfast before putting them on the train to get back home - lovely polite boys they were too, (friends from university) so they were no problem.

Thinking about Easter eggs I cannot stand this new politically correct world we live in, where everyone is too nervous to call things by their correct name for fear of offending a 'minority group'. I am referring to the case this week where Theresa May rightly criticised the National Trust for renaming their annual Easter egg hunt, the Cadbury Egg Hunt. No matter how liberal your views you cannot deny that Easter eggs relate to the Christian event of Easter, so in my opinion one cannot be offended  that the Easter egg hunt has the word Easter in its name.

We went out for Sunday lunch - I needed a break from the kitchen and it was a good excuse to go out to a nearby pub restaurant where we had a delicious meal.

Last year this field seen in the photo was planted with rapeseed - I wanted a photo of that, but instead of the lovely yellow vision I was expecting I got something else instead (looks like wheat). Still, the clouds are looking good in that sky.