Last Updated: 12-04-2020 13:09
I can remember lots Of Easter Sundays. There was the one when a drunk driver smashed into my father’s car the night before. There was one when I forgot the clocks went forward and missed the early service I was supposed to be taking. I have celebrated communion in the park, I have climbed hills in the hope of seeing the sunrise and, the day after our wedding, I have joined with a small band from the Salvation Army next to our hotel. I don’t think I have ever not gone to church on Easter Sunday: maybe when I was a small child, but never that I can remember.