April 12

The day begins early with John and I hiding Easter eggs in the front garden.  The Easter eggs are a hit and I must say that we would never have found such nice ones in the shops.

It is a beautiful day. The weather is absolutely perfect, the gladioli are out and we have Easter lunch outside on the veranda. But there is, as there often is with beauty, a sense of sadness. There is an empty loneliness to the day and I wonder if it could ever be possible that you could grow to hate beauty. Perhaps that is the wrong word, but I cannot think of the right one. Peace? Quiet? Is there a point when it becomes overwhelming? Not just monotonous, but suffocating.

I know my sadness is linked to my mother not being here.  I have this odd feeling of having laid a place at the table for someone who hasn't turned up. For dessert, we make an old family favourite, something my mum made all the time, coconut fridge tart.  The girls talk a lot about Sunday lunch at my parents' house which they really miss.  At some point, Sian comments on a smell which reminds her of my mum's.  I really feel my mother is close by.

Rolo disgraces himself by jumping up on the kitchen counter and eating the rest of the coconut fridge tart. I could really throttle him as we used our one and only tin of condensed milk and a packet of tennis biscuits bought in Botswana to make it.

In the late afternoon, I try and do some yoga and Ellie joins in.  It is fun and she is interested, but she does steal my mat so I end up doing all the exercises on the carpet.  Sian is very scornful of my yoga and meditation so Ellie challenges her to do one of the exercises which she does find difficult.

'You see,' I say.  'Who's going to be 75 and still flexible?'

'Mom,' she replies.  'You're 45 and not flexible.'

She has a point.