Easter Sunday So, it's Easter Sunday, imo the second most boring day of the year, behind Christmas day. At least with Christmas day you have good tv, presents for the kids, a general 'feelgood' factor. But at Easter all you have is chocolate. Lovely though it is, it has a pretty short enjoyment threshold, (although, arguably, the same could've said of presents) and you soon get sick of it. As an atheist why do I allow Easter Sunday to annoy me so much? I get so annoyed that the shops are shut every year, feeling as though this religious holiday is being 'forced' upon me, somehow even infringing upon my human rights. I often forget too that that there are many non-religious bank holidays 'inflicted' upon religious types throughout the year and they don't feel the same way. I mean, I don't even want to go shopping ffs! I think I will just moan and mutter away in my head as usual, be quiet and try and get through the day as quickly as possible.

Little Boy Lost... Ben was five years old. Ask anyone about their memories of #life before the age of five and most will have only sketchy highlights that come to mind. Benjamin Williams was no different, he didn’t remember very much about his #life before that moment, a few snapshots of faces or situations, small scenes even, but nothing of any depth. This scene however, would remain with him for the rest of his #life, not only because of its extraordinary comedic value, but also because it was the first time he saw his brother. In the porch, Ben stood and waited for his mother to be manoeuvred over the final step, the closer she got to him the more the happy tears flowed. She now sat in front of him with wet cheeks, holding her free arm out for a hug, a big hug, the kind only your mum can give you, even with just one arm.

...so the agent says, “That's one hell of an act. What do you call it?” and the man says, “The Aristocrats!”

Easter Message To Pope... Dear Pope, if my organisation had a rich history of paedophilia I wouldn't drive about in what looks like an ice-cream van.

Little Boy Lost January 1970. Ben looked out of the front door to find three feet of snow, an ambulance at the bottom of the drive, and two ambulance men starting to push a large hospital wheelchair up the steep snow covered incline. In it, his mother, looking tired but happy, guiltily sat as the men struggled to push against the energy sapping snow. His father, shovelling the snow in front of them as fast as it was physically possible to do with just two hands and one shovel, was hunched over, looking like an animated version of a roadworks sign. He managed to successfully transform the drive from a snow-covered incline, into an uphill skating rink. After 45 minutes of pushing, then pulling, then one pushing and one pulling, mum was home, and so was his new brother.