Tag Archives: Easter


What with lack of time to actually get to the cinema in recent months, I decided to splash out and treat us to some home cinema over Easter, so bought two DVDs. (Yes, real splash, that.) And then we ran out of time, and barely managed one of the films after all.

As Daughter preferred to watch Brooklyn, that’s the one we saw, and I’m glad we did. I’d come across some less than enthusiastic comments when it was available on the big screens, but here at CultureWitch Towers we enjoyed it, and personally I could easily watch it soon again. If I had time, I mean.


I suppose it was unrealistically romanticised, but I reckon you can see past that, and imagine what it was like to leave Ireland in 1951 and move to New York, all alone. And having vomited my way into England many years ago, I fully sympathise with looking green as you try and enter the US.


Some things would be easier today, and others not. I quite liked the old Brooklyn, and thank god they made the landlady sympathetic, while no pushover. Julie Walters is always good. And I expect it’s modern media we have to thank for feeling suspicious of Irish priests, which wasn’t necessary here, with Jim Broadbent as your dream religious father figure.

Having seen trailers – in the actual cinema – I was afraid Eilis would opt to stay in Ireland when she returned. What I felt made the story true was the fact that you can love both places and want to be in the new place as well as the old one. You just need something that helps you decide. That feeling when you realise how much you belong where you grew up. Or the feeling when you can see that the new place is good and you want to stay.


Because that old priest had a one very good comment to make on homesickness; how most people have it and it’s bad, but eventually it stops and someone else catches the bug instead. It does, most of the time, and often you don’t even notice that it’s stopped hurting so much.


And then it’s your turn to help someone newer – not to mention greener – than yourself. It’s how it works.

There’s nothing wrong with feelgood films, and besides, there was plenty to cry over too.

Hot and cross

Those hot cross buns are creeping closer and closer. My first problem with them has been to learn they are not for lent. My second problem is not to serve them on Easter Sunday. Well, I suppose there isn’t a problem in doing that, so much as in disappointing the Resident IT Consultant on Good Friday, when he really expected them.

But I’m slowly getting there.

Another thing I’ve learned over the years (almost 30, since you didn’t ask) is not to bake them myself. I’m good at baking. I’m just no good at baking something where I have no basic understanding of what I am aiming for. Yes, I have eaten them. But I have no idea what a very good, homemade, traditional hot cross bun might be like. So I gave up on that.

Bought, and served on Good Friday is my goal. So picture my confusion in August last year when I returned from holiday to find a half eaten (and inadequately wrapped) packet of them in the freezer. OK, it was better they were in the freezer than moulding away in the bread bin.

But where had they come from? I left the kitchen in a hot cross bun-free state in July, and the Resident IT Consultant and Son only had a few days in which to cause mayhem, before they joined me on holiday. Seems that was enough. I re-wrapped the buns, deciding to check on their edible-ness when the right time of year came round.

That was a couple of weeks ago when Son visited, and I felt we were decently close to Easter. The buns were OK, actually. They had been reduced from £1.10 to 60p, so I could see Son’s hand in all of this. He’s keen on bargains, and it’s hardly surprising that Tesco’s customers didn’t buy them in mid-July, thus leaving them ripe for reduction.

Anyway, we enjoyed our cheap treat for tea, and then it was time to send someone out to buy more, what with Good Friday getting closer. I’m just glad I solved the puzzle of my unseasonal freezer guests. Now I wish could teach people how to wrap food. (It’s not so much the teaching; it’s the learning how. And remembering.)

The long Friday

Good Friday sounds so much pleasanter than Long Friday, as it’s called in Sweden. I don’t know what it was like in Britain in the 1960s, but the young witch experienced some very boring Fridays at Easter. Nothing that was fun was allowed to happen.

There was television. Mind you, this was in a country with one channel, and that channel woke up around 5pm and lasted maybe five or six hours in total. What I can remember of the programmes was that it was always rather religious and long and sort of black and white.

Good thing that Easter Saturday followed, with bonfires and hot dogs and the scaring away of witches

Missed Wallander when the new series began on Saturday, so last night was an opportunity to catch the repeat. After the first few minutes feeling that I’d already seen this one, I decided I hadn’t, and I really hadn’t. Very, very good, I’d say. Maybe they needed that fresh start with new people?

Less sure of the possible developments with the twice-over neighbour for Kurt. Surely having a dog is enough? And Sweden came across as suitably incapable once again, but doing so in beautiful surroundings. Had thought it’d be more dour to put me in a long Friday mood, but it left me quite upbeat for a change.