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The long Easter weekend always used to conform to a set pattern: on Good Friday all through my twenties my close friends from university & I would drive up from a deserted London to Leicestershire for a dangerously good house party at the Home Farm, East Carlton hosted by Rose C-S, and her children, the irrepressible Nick & Suze.

On the Saturday we would pile into cars with Pansy the Peke for the Woodland Pytchley point-to-point (National Hunt steeplechasing) at Dingley, dressed in wellies and whatever approximation of country clothing we could rustle up between us. Rose would make a huge picnic to eat out the back of the car, and we’d work our way through drank gallons of sloe gin, dip quails eggs in celery salt, & chase them with Creme Eggs, before making shockingly bad £5 bets (hmm nice colours, great name) with the bookies in exchange for those small pastel coloured card rectangles and avoiding dull old schoolfriends in the seething beer tent.

We’d carry on into the evening with more eating, drinking & bad-ness until the very, very small hours, then church on Sunday for the Easter service, Rose’s proper Sunday lunch round the long mahogany table, more lolling and next day often a big lunch for all of us on the Bank Holiday at my parent’s house in Northamptonshire an hour away.

It seems like a time set in amber, none of it ever to be repeated.Dearest Rose died last summer, Home Farm is sold, both Suze & Emma live in France, Laura’s pregnant, Lach moved to Arizona, I moved to New York, every couple has split, and there are new partners, lots of lovely children & a different set of priorities. My parents are divorcing, my sister is sick in London, and neither of us are speaking to my father who could be in Timbuktu for all we know.

So, a different kind of English Easter this year.  It’s late, so more tomorrow.

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12 comments

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What a bucket of suck! I hope you still managed to have a good Easter in spite of all the changes in your life. Just know that your blog is one of the higlights of my online life!

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Happy Easter dear LLG, a first-time comment from a long-time reader. Holidays seem never the same once you’re a grown-up, dealing with unpleasant grown-up issues. My holidays are typically spent with at least one faction of the family not speaking to the rest, so I empathise with your situation. Regardless, I hope you had a wonderful, different sort of Easter this year – and lots of Creme Eggs.

x

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I know that “times have changed” holiday feeling. Just remember, everything evolves. And this difficult moment will do so often. How or when, who can say, but that’s how it goes. Giving you my holiday peaceful vibes, LLG. Kxo

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Happy Easter LLG. This post made me feel sad. I think Easter can be like Christmas-lovely if you are happy and spending time with people you love having fun or an utter nightmare of loneliness despair and frustration if you aren’t. I always remember the Magic of Easter 1999 with friends in Sydney. I kind of know it’ll never be that way again.

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I love this post, and the image of a time set in amber. Holiday time is always grounds for noticing what’s changed since the last such celebration. Not easy, but valuable I think. Your Easter weekends sound magical – hope they still are.

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have updated my side bar whatsy to include your current web address, how annoying for you that the whole thing couldn’t just be somehow magically cyber swapped over when you started the new site.

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@FF: thanks lovely. It’s reeelly annoying. Esp as I didn’t realise for four weeks that it was untransferable. I had over 900 subscribers on Friend Follow, 500 via email & 3000 on RSS & I had deleted my feed my the time I realised I needed to notify everyone. LLGxx

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Wishing you love from all the Toddlers xxx

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I just read enjoying your story which in my ears sound like a beautiful English Easter story, like in a film with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, nice and green, with laughts…and than, puf, the reality. Make me remember what Easter was for me…

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Holidays are never, ever what they are supposed to be, and never live up to our golden memories which we conveniently adjust in the golden glow of the past.
Your dad has lost out the most, though. In the words of the very wise Mr. T (of A-team fame)
“I pity the fool”

BIG HUGS TO YOU xoxo

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dear LLG – I cherish those memories too. This easter we spent with the irrepressible Uncle D and I thought of those same days. France next Easter? x

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@Suse France – with you three? Tempting! LLGxx

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