Anzac Day. Alarms break our sleep at 4am. Lights flick on. Homes come to yawning life. Cars loaded with young and old drive out, lights on, towards the closest cenotaph and ceremony. Then the quiet wait begins. The wait for that tinge of light just before the dawn. That tinge of light that led the ANZACs to the wrong bay on that foreign shore in 1915. Then martial commands break the quiet, feet move in unison and, as the dawn breaks, the solemn act of respect and remembrance begins.
Easter is one of those times of the year for friendship and sharing. This year, MLP and I went home for Easter. Our real home. The Gold Coast. Stayed with friends. Shared food and wine and all things Easter. Home … ahhhh.