the brilliantly leaping gazelle

Think about it. When can you remember warm, sunny and frankly glorious weather at Easter? I can’t. And I doubt if you can either. This Easter being a case.

Granted, Good Friday, was – in London anyway – replete with weather that if anything provided people with a false sense of security. A couple of my housemates who’ve gone down to Dorset for the Easter break, better to avail themselves of the fresh air and the sea must’ve been cock-a-hoop at the wisdom of their decision. I mean, what could be more delightful – if not relaxing – than to spend the Easter weekend, lazily basking in wonderful weather in idyllic surroundings, whilst your ears are teased by the playful laughter of young children frolicking with carefree abandon outside?

If only it were thus.

Good Friday was followed by Dire Saturday, with Worse Sunday and Horrendous Monday promised.  As I write this on Saturday afternoon I can hear the wind howling, knocking over bins making it impossible for me to venture outside, not that I’d want to as the rain is lashing it down. Varying degrees of bad weather are predicted for most of the UK, the only question is how bad exactly will it be where you are? The predictions aren’t good. Weather warnings issued. Strong winds, hail, sleet and even snow on higher ground. And that’s all before Easter Monday brings storm Katie to U.K. shores, with gales and heavy rain – possibly flooding – all to look forward to.

All of this is our own fault, although possibly not due to global warming. (Exactly when did that neat piece of linguistic gymnastics occur, switching from calling it the more threatening global warming to the less apocalyptic climate change? Climate change conjures up thoughts not of irrevocable environmental damage, but of going somewhere warmer for the good of your health, like the wealthy Victorians were wont to do).

Sorry but Tangent Street beckoned and I had to make a brief detour down it.

As I was about to argue, all of this is our own fault, we have only ourselves to blame because – and this explanation only makes sense if you believe he exists – we have angered god. (Mind you, me writing that that explanation only makes sense if you believe in god is in itself is problematic, as any belief in any deity is the very antithesis of sense. Religion being fairy stories for adults.)

Oops! Tangent Street again.

Anyway.

If you believe in god, it therefore follows that you believe that jesus was his son. And that god knowingly gave jesus human form so he could die for our sins – sins we start commiting the moment of our birth – and then rise from the dead like a zombie to quell any doubts of his existence.

So wouldn’t it make sense for a deity with a track record – as detailed in his own biography – of having extremely vengeful temper tantrums, not to take too kindly to the very beings he’d sacrificed his own son for, only for them to see his death, not as an occasion for sombre contemplation, but rather to indulge in some of the very activities he’d died for in the first place? I get annoyed if someone doesn’t put enough sugar in my tea, so I can’t begin to imagine the unadulterated rage he must’ve felt at that.

Which all explains the bad weather.

Aren’t you glad I sorted that one out for you?

As an Easter Bunny treat, here’s a present from the Guardian website, proving that in New Zealand at least, it’s all gone a bit ‘Wallace and Grommit*

While most people associate the long weekend with chocolate overload and fluffy bunnies, for a rugged group of hunters in the district of Central Otago it means 10,000 fewer pests.

The great Easter bunny hunt has been running for 25 years and draws seasoned hunters from across the South Island, who often hunt through the night, taking turns to shoot, drive and nap.

This year 27 teams, of 12 hunters each, took part – with names such as “happy hoppers” and “anti-pestos”.

Ferrets – which are also a major pest in New Zealand – are also shot on the bunny hunt, and count in the final tally.

“It was pretty bad this year, much worse than last year, it seems like the rabbits are taking over again,” said Alexandra Lions Club president Eugene Ferreira, who organises the event.

“The total was 10,000 this year. Conditions were excellent and there was no rain. The winning team, Down South, shot 889 rabbits, not a bad effort.”

The most bunnies ever shot during the Easter bunny hunt was 23,000.

(You can get the full story here.)

*Their rabbit removal firm in’Curse of the Were Rabbit’ was called anti-pesto.Yet another example of life imitating art?