Wednesday, 16 April 2014


It is early on a Sunday morning. Around seven o'clock I think. My mother has gotten up already and is downstairs in the kitchen making coffee. She takes out the forty or so eggs she has bought the day before and starts putting them into two big pans. To be boiled. My father is also downstairs. Setting the table for breakfast. Highly unusual since we never eat breakfast at the table on a normal Sunday. 

The eggs are ready. Most of them hard-boiled, some a little less (for my mother). The table is set. The grands and us children are dressed and downstairs. My father starts with a prayer and breakfast starts. A piece of bread with some jam. One egg, no two eggs. Then another two. And another two. I can probably manage about five eggs as do my siblings. My father and grandfather however eat eggs like they are going out of fashion. And before we know it, there is only about four eggs left. But it's time to leave. For church.

Because despite this little pagan influence into our daily lives, church was important. And being late for church was out of the question. So, we walked and cycled or drove to church (depending on the weather and the amount of people), where we would join all the others in hearing about Christ being nailed to the cross as a penance for all of our sins. We would hear about Thomas and Mary Magdalene, about the stone and the linen cloth left behind. 

After church we would go back home. And depending on the weather, the rest of the day would be spent in quietness. Perhaps a walk if the weather was nice, some television if there was anything good on, a game, a book. And that is how I spent Easter in my youth.

Second Blooming
This memory was prompted by Spin Cycle. Thank you Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie and Gretchen at Second Blooming.


  1. Great memory. I can't imagine eating all of those eggs. I am not particularly a fan of boiled eggs although I like fried, scrambled etc.

  2. Hari OM
    Our eggs were boiled with food dyes and decorated with poster paints then taken to the local hill for rolling...symbolising the opening of the stone and the risen Christ. Yes, we ate them after!! YAM xx

  3. NIce memory. That is a lot of eggs in one sitting!

  4. I only remember that I was searching for eggs, then we played egg games, and sometimes I found eggs hidden from last year. It was always a lot of fun. No church, never and I can't remember any special breakfast !

  5. Such nice memories to share with us. Lots of eggs.

  6. We also don't eat breakfast together on a normal Sunday...or any day! I have 18 eggs in the fridge right now, waiting to be boiled and dyed for Easter. Thank you for sharing your memories! I love that photo of the that a church by you?

  7. Easter when I was growing up was dying eggs, then getting up to find them after the Bunny hid them, investigating the basket of goodies and then heading to church for Easter Service.

  8. This is so beautifully written and so evocative. Such beautiful memories. And SO many eggs!

  9. Oh my, that is a lot of eggs. May I ask why the coloring of eggs wasn't part of the tradition? Just curious. Loved reading about your childhood.

    1. I don't know why it wasn't part of it. I know my cousins never did either.


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