Robert the Giant Easter Bunny and the screen breaks


I’ve been away from the keyboard and cavorting in the meatspace, basking in the joy of friends. And of course the boys are on holiday and require entertainment of one sort or another. I am delightfully happy.

One problem with actually doing stuff is that there’s so much to savour and so little time to write about it, but the continuing discipline of a picture a day gives a framework for memory.

The picture above, for instance, is the table of the abode in which I found myself on the morning of the visit of Robert the Giant Easter Bunny who brought mini eggs and some rather sophisticated dark chocolate balls. Robert, it seems, is the name of one of the oversized lagomorphs to which I have already had cause to refer. I’m told his breeder is disenchanted with the proposed North Korean farming programme having discovered that only the apparatchiks were getting to eat them.

I have learnt to hula-hoop; been down the biggest slide in the Tate Modern; bought wool to knit for the newly-arrived miracle baby of a dear friend (in the new-look John Lewis); been to the theatre not once but twice, one trip with my father which may be the start of a regular treat; cooked and been cooked for and drunk many a fine vintage; floated home through a world of infinite complexity and walked under the soft spring sunshine in many places with many friends.

Tomorrow the boys, Maizy and I set out in the van to this campsite until the end of the week. We’re hoping the weather will be good but, in a clear demonstration of the maxim that more information is not necessarily better information we are bewildered by the range of meteorological prognostications available for the same town over the same period:





Further digesting shall take place of the extraordinary week on Holy Island, about which Alistair has already written and pictured. I’m not sure I’ve got the words.

8 Replies to “Robert the Giant Easter Bunny and the screen breaks”

  1. If you’re looking for first class food, and feeling moderately solvent, the Arundell Arms in Lifton, where the A30 crosses the border into Cornwall, is absolutely fantastic. Does bar snacks of some excellence, too. Last tie I was there, I was bombed by a buzzard.

  2. Thanks! The boys and I have now sprung-cleaned the van and sorted out all the gear which is always exciting. I’ve printed off twelve densely-packed pages of cut-and-pasted info about useful things including the difference between the tracks of an otter and a mink and am currently charging the assembled hand-held games consoles.

    acb, that sounds like top advice although the buzzard sounds intimidating. The presence of the birds is mentioned in the pub’s blurb: “This is old England, miles away from civilisation, where buzzards float effortlessly in the updrafts of air from woods and hills”. The bombing behaviour isn’t highlighted.

  3. What a good plan. Cornwall. It looks a great site. Camping really is the stuff for solid childhood memories.

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