Thursday, 17 April 2014

Here Comes the Easter Bunny...

It's Easter soon.  With it comes Easter bunnies, chicks and chocolate.  I am, actually, looking forward to it.


Often, in here, a smidgeon of effort is thrown at holidays and the like.  If that smidgeon sticks, bonus.  If not, as is usually the case, it misses, leaving only a trace of said effort.  The trace generally tends to be a bit too gloopy and so slides off leaving a pool of wishful thinking on the floor at our feet.


This Easter, however, Jeremy is involved.  Much, I'm sure, to the irritation of Connors, Jezzer wants to put a smile on our faces.  The weather outside has been as dismal as the food inside - grey and bland and uninspiring - and this has affected our moods.  Now, you may think we're all happy and smiling and a-dancing all the day.  We're not.  Sorry to disappoint.  Likewise, we're not entirely miserable, staring into space (or corners), staring at each other, not staring at anything because our eyes were closed and we were shambling about the Recreation Room bumping into thing.


That last one was Penny Pocket, the riotous rocket.  She thought it would be funny to close her eyes and pretend she was blind.  She shuffled around, not looking or caring where she was going.  This was fine and even humorous until she happened to stand on Jersey's toes.  Jersey, a dirty oil rag of a man and one of the more unpleasant orderlies, pushed her back with an angry shout and an angrier look.


Penny fell back, eyes still closed, laughing.  Then she stumbled against one of the chairs.  As they're bolted to the floor, the chair didn't move, so Penny fell sideways, her body twisting.  She hit her head as the rest of her hit the floor.  Penny Rocket was no longer as riotous as she had been.  She also didn't need to pretend to be blind.  The blow to her head had sorted that one for her.  How generous.


Jersey thought it served her right.  We all thought Jersey should be served.  To a lion.  Or cannibal.  Or a rumbling volcano.


But good ol' Jeremy has come to our rescue this Easter.  He, personally, bought everyone an Easter egg.  Even when chocolate eggs can be had three for a fiver nowadays, it would still have been a substantial purchase.  He's even gone so far as to remember Chloe is dairy intolerant so has to have a dairy free one and Boris Phenaligan, ex-pentathlete and substance abuser, only likes dark chocolate.  Jeremy is like that.  He knows you.  He wants to know you.  He wants to make your stay comfortable and as happy as it can be under the circumstances (you're in an asylum, fed slop and 'care' is something you'll have to look up in the dictionary)..


Jeremy knows I liked Minstrels.  He's bought me an egg which comes with two bags of the sweets.  Easter Sunday, when he'll give us our eggs, seems forever away.


Not only that, but he has organised an Easter hunt.  I have no idea how he's managed to garner permission for such a thing, but little fluffy chicks and rabbits - not real ones, of course, are going to be hidden around the asylum.  The Recreation Room, canteen, even the toilets will host tiny balls of fluffy fun.


Of course, this could backfire.  I don't want to be pessimistic, simply realistic.  We're dealing with people who, in many cases, are a little unhinged.  The doorways to their psychoses are hanging wide open and anything could trigger those doors to slam shut unexpectedly.  One person finds a chick and another wants it.  One finds a bunny and another thinks the bunny is whispering to them.  As Jeremy has announced a competition where the one who finds the most wins a prize (another egg), fisticuffs could break out among even the most placid of patients.


On the other hand, it may well be a roaring success.  The competition could be viewed as everyone is a winner purely because we're able to do this in the first time.  The eggs might be consumed without incident - no stealing, dropping, hoarding or coveting.  It potentially could put a smile on our faces which will remain for quite some time, before Jersey, Connors or one of the others decides to do a little metaphorical dusting and wipes it off.


Who knows?  Ask me another.


Either way, I like Minstrels.  I'm happy.  I hope you enjoy yours too.

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