aster is a time of chocolate eggs, symbolically reminding us of the rebirth of nature as it moves to the greens of spring. It used to be the time when I would run away from home looking for my own rebirthing in places like Epping Forest or down at the sea in Brighton. But I found no rebirthing, no ability to shake off my indolent and flat and troubled teenage life and would be returned by the police to the domestic mismanagement of home life in a Fulham council flat. But still there was a stirring in my mind that Easter and
