So that was Easter.

My first real holiday since before Christmas, when I got struck by that sucky illness thing of giant suckiness.

I always have to stop and think whether Easter’s the one where Jesus was born or killed.

South Park didn’t help matters with that episode where they killed off Jesus on Christmas Day while trying to rescue Santa, after his sleigh got shot down by ragheads over Baghdad.
Those bastards!

Anyway, whichever one it was, we got chocolate.

And a four day weekend.

Thank you, Jesus.

If only the campground we stayed at with two other families over the long weekend could be as lucky as Jesus.

This was its last big hurrah.
It shan’t be rising from the dead.

Its remains shall now be buried beneath a 420-house residential estate. Like so many of our seaside campgrounds.

This one was 45 minutes from home. It had excellent facilities and had a great play area for children.

Goddamn, the weather was cold though.

And there was me all dressed in denial, pretending it was still the summer that I had missed through illness.

I somehow managed to sort of sprain my ankle while putting on a sandal to go for a walk.
Or maybe it was partly related to using the campground’s tyre swing for kickboxing practice earlier that morning.
I could barely walk for most of the first day.

Then I woke up the next morning and all was fine.
Like some kind of Easter miracle.

D-Girl (2 ½) enjoyed hunting for chocolate eggs.

She scoffed half of them and re-hid the others in her own hidey holes. Which we only found out about later that night when we went into the tent to check on her and discovered her sitting there on her airbed, face, hair and hands covered in chocolate.

Gah.

I also managed to go fishing for the first time in months.
But I didn’t manage to catch anything. Except for the weed that kept getting tangled around my line.

But I fortunately had a more useful kind of weed, which, like fish, was good smoked.
Which is one way to make an uneventful bout of fishing more … eventful.

Also finally got to smoke a cigar I was meant to puff away on when D-Other Girl was born in December, except I never got the chance due to that sucky illness thing of giant suckiness.

Anyway.

Here’s some photos:

The D-Man’s biker gang.