Still life goes on!

Every year that I can remember Easter has had the same format.  There’s Good Friday, then the weekend, and then Easter Monday – a good long break from the usual grind.  School children usually get the entire week after Easter as vacation time. Generally we spend too much money on chocolate eggs, and I know that we do an egg treasure hunt in the garden for the kids. Each year Easter moves slightly forwards or backwards, but the holiday block remains the same.  This year however it’s all changed and I’m not at all sure why!

I’ll admit that Easter is undeniably early.  Instead of being Spring, it still feels as if we’re in the depths of winter; a notion backed up by the weather.  But regardless of what mother nature is up to, Easter is Easter, and if the powers that decide such things have made it this early in the year, why is that for the first time I can remember, there’s some issue about which vacation days we should get? 

OK, so I have no idea why Easter is ever placed on the calendar somewhere between March and April, but I do know that this isn’t just a random act, there is some religious significance to when the date falls.   So I have no problem with the fact that instead of wearing spring clothes to take advantage of the liposuction I had done recently, I’m probably going to be out and about on Easter Sunday wearing my winter coat and boots.  The idea that vacation days should be affected because of the early Easter however is something I don’t get.  I’ve heard about schools rescheduling the “Easter” vacation for a few weeks after Easter so that it will become some kind of spring break.  But what about tradition?  What about families that have organized to spend Easter together either in this country or even booked to go abroad? 

The Government is always making noise about returning to old family values.  Well isn’t spending quality time on public holidays part of good traditional family values?  I remember Easters from my past filled with church parades and spring activities that my family shared together.  It was like Christmas without the presents.  This year however some parents are going to have to work on Easter’s equivalent of Boxing Day – and their kids are supposed to be at school.  Because it’s such a dog’s dinner however some parents will be off, some won’t.  Some kids will be at school.  Some won’t.  Some schools will be closed later in the year when probably the parents don’t have any public holidays to alleviate some of the child care provision required to cover school closure at that time.  What a mess!

Easter is Easter.  Good Friday, Easter Saturday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday.  If the dates of Easter itself must change, let’s try and ensure that sense prevails in future and the vacation period remains steady and people can plan their lives without the uncertainty of whether their kid’s school and their employer are on the same page – or calendar!

I’ve always hated Cat Bores. You know the kind of people I’m talking about, they lost sight of reality the day they brought Tibbles home and never recovered. Next thing you know it’s framed pictures of their stupid moggie on the wall, mundane anecdotes and interrupted phone conversations so you can hear the stupid thing purring. Cats are driven by instinct. Cat People assign human attributes to this behaviour because it is fun for them. Cat People are wrong.

Or so I thought, until the day I met Claude. I’m still not sure exactly how it happened. Claude is my housemate’s cat, when I moved in Clause was already living here. Claude is a black cat with a squishy tummy and a sarcastic face. But it just snuck up on me somehow. The occasional afternoon playing with a toy mouse, furtive glances in the hallway and then, one day I came home and he was on my bed. He meowed crossly at me and stormed out, as if he was the one paying the rent and I had trampled on his rights, but then he came back the next day. Somehow we just got used to each other and then, joy of joys that first special day when Claude climbed up and sat purring on my lap.

It wasn’t until the day I held the phone up to his little face so he could say hello to my mum that I realised I had gone over to the other side. I was a cat bore in denial. I quickly calculated the number of hours spent talking to or about Claude in the previous week. All my friends knew more about Claude’s life>cat insurance of cat toys. I’m a Claude person. And from the look in his eyes, he knows.

I'm still not entirely sure what a blepharoplasty clinic is, but I know its some

kind of plastic surgery type thing. What's the relevance of this you may ask? Well, our great leader and Company MD has usefully gotten every employee a

discount for it! Myah is thinking about reaching into her pocket for once and trying to make herself more beautiful. Good luck to her.