Happy Good Friday

I realise we're not supposed to be happy, and I suspect you certainly aren't supposed to eat  red meat. But we are awaiting the arrival of 14 guests, coming to celebrate the return to country of one of D's far flung school friends, all bringing large amounts of dead animal with which to adorn our barbeque. Hurrah!

The no-being-happy-on-Good-Friday (and whatever Easter Saturday is called) was brought home to us two years ago. We got married on Easter Saturday 2009. In an Anglican church, by an Anglican minister. The Anglican church thing was what we wanted (and was more for the loveliness of the building and the not having to plan a wet weather option than out of any religious devotion) but our first choice of priest was a Catholic priest who teaches at D's Mum's school. Whereupon we learnt that no masses/ceremonies/whatever are to be performed by Catholic priests between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, except for funerals. Which wasn't exactly what we were after. Fortunately we found an Anglican minister, who for whatever reason wasn't subject to the same constraints as the Catholic priest, and as it turned out, was perfectly suited to us. We realised we were onto a winner when, at our pre-wedding meeting with him, he said "Okay. Your ceremony. High God, low God, no God?"

Good Friday 2009 involved trips to the beautician for me and bridesmaid S, and fish and chips and happy times on the beach with various relatives who had come all the way from Melbourne.

So extremely good times two years ago, somewhat good times one year ago (when Little E was three days overdue and we were frantically Googling "induction, advantages disadvantages") and good times today, even if we're not exactly being kosher about it.

Happy Good Friday to you too, wherever you are.