Easter Eggs and travel.

About three weeks ago I flew out to be with Laura and the baby who are spending some time in Toronto. They're staying there for a bit and I'm here in London alone. I'm looking forward to the return of those few distilled moments of perfect content and stillness that are bestowed upon me when my little baby falls asleep in my arms after her last bottle of milk of the night. I really miss them both, so I thought I'd tell my daughter a little Easter story, and here it is:

Sorry I can’t be with you for a little while, but your daddy has to be in England right now.

In the land where our people come from, thousands of years ago, there were no televisions, no books, no cars and life was much simpler. In the day the worked and hunted and farmed and by night they sat around their fires trying to keep warm.

They believed that the seasons were controlled by gods and goddesses and that the goddess of Spring was Eostre which is where our word for Easter comes from. They knew that the days grow shorter and colder in the winter and longer and warmer in summer. Spring starts when the day is longer than the night, it is warmer and the flowers start to bloom and lots of baby animals are born. The land that seemed so cold and lifeless in the winter seemed to burst into life, just like an egg hatching and the hares, which are like big bunny rabbits that were running around so madly in March settled down and all the baby hares were born. They believed that the hares would help Eostre bring in the Spring and they gave each other eggs to celebrate its arrival.

Even though our people no longer live that simple life and they no longer remember the reasons why we still celebrate Easter and the coming of spring, they still think of the Easter Bunny and give each other Easter Eggs. I have an Easter egg for you here which I’ll give you when you come back. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you so very much.

When I flew out to Toronto, I departed from Heathrow Terminal 5. Despite the terrible press surrounding the opening debacle it feels very much like a proper airport in the same way that Terminal 4 feels very much like an abbatoir.

I lunched at Wagamama there and, as usual, had the Chicken Kare Lomen, which is a spicy curry soup and their superb White Chocolate Ginger Cheesecake. The curry soup was only 50% successful, it tasted wonderful but unfortunately, I was unable to squeeze out a fart in the multifaith prayer room. That small opportunity to show my contempt for all religions thwarted, I went to board the plane. I like to think that it was perhaps because of my innate purity and godliness that on handing my passport over to the flight attendant, I was upgraded to business class.