This Easter was very picturesque, relaxing and British.

Turtle and I went back to my Mum’s where the lambs were frolicking, the streams were babbling, the fields were green, the birds were chirruping in the Forest and the cats were basking in the morning sunlight.

Lovely.

Then my brother comes over:

“Alright Mum, want some crack? I feel fucking rough from last night I do. If I have a baby girl, I’m gonna stick a chastity belt on it. I ripped off the pikeys so next time I see them I best be carrying my iron bar. I’m gonna do a fat line before the wedding ceremony and fucking float up the aisle. Etc etc”

After about 2 and a half hours of this I escaped to the village pub where mullets and tapered trousers still reign supreme. I love my brother so much but he’s a lamb in shouty boisterous wolf clothing. Currently very shouty indeed.

Turtle and I ended up judging a ridiculously surreal Easter bonnet competition on Sunday at the old people’s home where the mother creature works. Most of the old people were asleep, in a coma or incoherent but I think those that were lucid got something out of it.

As a fee for my Crafts Council “expert” representation, I procured a few of the finer Bonnets as gifts for Supacompression.

Excellent. Lazy gifting.