I’ve never really celebrated Father’s Day. I don’t think anyone did when I was a small child and then, when it became more well-known in the UK, it was considered an American import and looked down on by my parents’ generation. Now, though, it’s almost impossible to ignore. Even when email newsletters offer the chance to opt out of Father’s Day updates, it seeps through on social media, in the news, and in shelves stacked with bottles at the supermarket.
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Despite the last week having been less-than-satisfactory on a number of counts, I woke this morning feeling surprisingly positive.
There was also a phrase – brand new bright tomorrow – going round and round in my mind.
And then I realised that today is the first day of summer.
Continue reading “bright tomorrows”
During this coronavirus lockdown, times and dates have become less important than they sometimes are for many of us.
For those who have been furloughed, normal office hours are irrelevant, while for those who are working from home, even early morning meetings seem to start later – the breakfast meetings I attend are at 9 instead of 7am – and since there’s no commuting time, there’s no need to set an alarm clock.
Continue reading “frustrated plans”
Whether or not we have any religious interest, most people in the UK look forward to Easter for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the main one is the chance of a really long weekend – although more and more businesses work on Good Friday, having the weekend wedged between Bank Holidays makes for a four-day break for many, which can’t be bad.
And then, of course, there’s the chocolate. Those Easter eggs that have been so effectively filling the spaces on the supermarket shelves left by recent stock-piling. Personally, I can’t see the point of them – although the bright wrappers are pretty, a decent slab of chocolate is far more cost-effective.
Continue reading “fashion update, Easter 2020”
Today is Palm Sunday – the Sunday before Easter, when the Christian church remembers Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey and the welcoming crowds strewing palm fronds in his path. In the UK, there are no native palms, so traditionally we use willow branches; I remember as a child picking branches of grey pussy willow catkins to decorate the local chapel my family attended.
This year, whether it’s due to climate change, the vagaries of the English weather, or simply a later Easter than sometimes, the sleek fur catkins are already fluffy and yellow with pollen.
Continue reading “sacred and secular”