I have never quite understood how Easter works. It appears that there is a five-week window in which Easter Sunday can fall, determined by the equinox, fullness of the moon and something to do with it having to subside on a Sunday. I know the dates change every year, but I have never been able to get my head around exactly why. Whatever the reason, this constant change means that one can never quite determine what attire one should wear on the Easter weekend. It is a tricky enough dilemma with the changeable British forecast, but by changing the date each year it becomes near on impossible.

One year you could be dipping your flip-flop clad toes in the English sea, basking in the glorious sunshine and be pondering between a summer dress and short-shorts. The next year you could be snuggled with a blanket by the fire, wind and rain howling at the windows and still unable to pack away those winter boots once and for all. This year it appears that we will be succumbed to the latter.

One aspect that is not so changeable is how we celebrate Easter in my house. For as long as I can remember my Uncle, Auntie and their four children have come to stay with us in Devon. Weekend activities usually include some form of walk along the coast, a trip to church and, of course, a visit from the Easter bunny. Year upon year this has become somewhat of a tradition in our household. This year, however, things are starting to change.

Although there may have been the occasional year where one of the children was off travelling the world, whilst another may be relentlessly trying to finish their university essay, the tradition has still held strong. However, this year it appears that things may be a little different. I am not sure if that is because Easter is so early this year or simply because we are all growing up, but whatever the reason, it appears that things are changing.

Looking at the current forecast it does not seem foreseeable for us to be having picnic on the beach in the glorious sunshine. It is no longer applicable to cram as many children as possible into one bed, especially when the children start bringing their boyfriends and girlfriends to the party. Not only that, but it looks like my brother will not be coming home for Easter this year; for the first time ever. The dreaded ‘D-word’ comes to mind (or dissertation for those who have not had the displeasure of this experience).

Even with these changes I still have my fingers crossed that one aspect will stay the same; the annual visit from the Easter bunny; that, and Easter being a time for family.

Perhaps these changes are all part of the growing up process. If they are, whilst we have most probably got to the age where this is required, I am not sure that I want to grow up.