There is an Easter that lives on and on in my memory and it really was the most uneventful thing. Uneventful, and I was as happy as a clam.
It was 1979, second year of university. Home was an old two-storey house in Boulcott St, across from Press House; one flat up, one flat down, three or four flatmates: my mate Spider and me and whoever else might hav…