Skip to main content

Easter bonnets

Somehow, somewhere, an Easter bonnet must have entered my life.

Because when I read the words, "Easter Bonnet Parade" on Toby's pre-school newsletter, I immediately had a few mental associations.  Home-made.  Spring flowers.  Easter eggs. 

I am sure I've never worn one.  I've definitely never made one.  But some kind of folk memory told me what I had to do.

That, and Google, of course.  A few clicks brought up this handy Netmums page, and I thought the chicken-on-a-nest idea looked pretty cute.

Now, of course, for items like this you basically have two options.  You either set your kids loose on it and encourage them to go as crazy as possible so that it is abundantly clear that it is All Their Own Work, and not that you are totally uncreative and/or forgot all about it until the night before.  Or you give in to your competitive streak, banish your children completely and go for top-notch perfection.

Well, I tried for option 2.  Next year I'm letting Toby do it.


The hardest part was getting everything to stay on.  I selected double-sided tape as my weapon of choice, but raffia and straw hats seem to be Teflon-like in their unstickiness.  And then there wasn't really anything to stick the eggs and chicks to.



Toby's initial reaction was, "I don't want to wear a silly hat."  When it came to it, though, he was really excited.  A little too excited.  The other children paraded demurely across the stage and posed neatly in the centre for their parents to take a photo.  As I stood ready, camera focused, Toby hurtled across, parting company with the hat somewhere around the middle.

I had to collar him afterwards for a photo.

Unsurprisingly, we didn't win!  But good fun and chocolate eggs were had by all.  So that's what counts, isn't it?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bonnie Prince Charlie Walk: Lees to Derby

These final two Bonnie Prince Charlie walks were quite a contrast: the first across empty fields and along quiet roads; the second crossing from country into city as I walked into Derby. I started both walks at the Great Northern Greenway car park, just off Station Road in Mickleover.  Walk 1 In order to keep walking the Bonnie Prince Charlie way in the right direction, I first found my way back to Lees by an alternative route. The first section, along the cycle path, was well paved. After that it quickly got very muddy. At least it's a popular walk from Mickleover to Radbourne, so it was easy to find the path.  St Andrew's, Radbourne, is rather dominated by memorials. It looks as if the preacher would be hemmed in by tombs!      I liked this bench outside, with the text, "The thoughtful soul to solitude retires". Writing this, I only just realised it was a quote. Turns out it's from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam . The rest of the walk certainly provided solitude,

A Place at the Table: Spiritual Formation Book 12

"God has ordained in his great wisdom and goodness that eating, and especially eating in company, should be one of the most profound and pleasurable aspects of being human." Miranda Harris had been intending to write a book for years. She'd got as far as a folder full of notes when she died suddenly in a car accident in 2019. When her daughter, Jo Swinney, found the notes, she decided to bring her mum's dream to fruition. A Place at the Table was the result. I thought this was going to be a nice friendly book about having people over for dinner. In one sense it is, but it's pretty hard-hitting as well. Miranda and her husband Peter co-founded the environmental charity A Rocha, so the book doesn't shy away from considering the environmental aspects of what we eat and how we live. They also travelled widely and encountered hunger at close quarters; the tension between seeing such poverty and believing in a generous God comes out clearly in A Place at the Table.

Flexitarianism

Hey folks!  I learnt a new word today!  I can now proudly proclaim myself to be a flexitarian .  Yes, I wish that meant I'm in training to be a trapeze artist.  Or that I'm a leading world expert on the chemical properties of stretchy materials.  All it actually means is that I don't eat meat that much. Well, big deal.  That lumps me in with a majority of the world's population, many of whom have no choice about the matter.  So why the need for a fancy new word?  Because, it seems, that we in the prosperous West have come to regard having bacon for breakfast, chicken sandwiches for lunch and a steak for dinner as entirely normal.  But also because we in the prosperous West are starting to realise that might not be an entirely good idea. You know about factory farming, of course.  The images of chickens crammed into tiny cages and pigs which never see the sunlight, which we push out of our minds when we reach for our plastic-wrapped package of sausages in t