My weekend from Crapsville has decided to extend itself into the week from Crapsville (I will tell you one day, I promise, I just don’t want to jinx anything). So I was halfway through my supermarket shopping today and decided to pop a therapeutic Cadbury’s Creme Egg into my trolley (ooh, I love Creme eggs – that beautiful, gooey centre – yurmmmm). I started to ponder why Easter eggs are being sold in January (I’m not complaining, honest), but then I thought – hang on, I shouldn’t even celebrate Easter really, because I’m just not religious in any way, and it’s probably a bloody cheek. All the religious people probably look at all us heathens eating their Creme Eggs and get really annoyed.
When I say I’m not religious, I don’t mean like an atheist or anything – that’s too strong. I went to church when I was a child, sang in the choir and all that, but I don’t know, somehow it’s just not for me. I’m all for anyone else believing in anything they like: God, miracles, fairies, Santa, whatever. Don’t shoot me, but I’m just one of those people that’s not good at abstract ideas. At the risk of sounding too much like a Vulcan, it’s all too illogical for me, I’m afraid – believing in something that can’t be proved, crediting something invisible every time something goes right, and then not blaming them when it goes wrong?? Nah. Too complicated. As Charles Darwin said, ‘I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created that a cat should play with mice’. Fair point, methinks. Still, I have the utmost respect for everyone’s religion and find it all fascinating. I think if I was going to be anything, I’d be a Buddhist – they seem a nice gentle bunch. But then as a self-confessed spider murderer that’s probably not for me either.
And then I thought maybe us secular folk could celebrate something slightly different, like Eggmas or Spring Chocolate Break or something. Oh, but then does that mean I shouldn’t really celebrate Christmas either, which is a bummer? But then I got to the checkout and realised I’d forgotten my shopping bags (curse this green nation!) and then I forgot all about religion and eggs and chickens and Christmas. I’m dead fickle, me.
