Bad Friday.

Good Friday was always the most miserable day in the Catholic calendar. As a child, I remember any display of cheer being strictly forbidden and every Catholic household being subject to a blanket ban on all forms of enjoyment. It got worse. At 3 o’clock, we had to endure a horrible sombre church service where we were repeatedly reminded, in case it had escaped our attention, that this was the day Our Lord was crucified. But this year, my sister Susan, in memory of this grotesque charade, did the complete opposite. She turned Good Friday into Bad Friday by inviting us all over for sinful amounts drink, food and fun. It was fantastic. And seriously, what’s more important? Pretending to be pious and miserable because you think it makes you virtuous and holy? Or enjoying the love and laughter of your family?