Country Living with Francis Farragher

IT might have been a ‘late Easter’ but yet it has come and gone like a flash as the year[s] speed by at an alarming rate . . . or so it seems.  We’ve had a late Easter in 2025 due to the first Full Moon after the Spring Equinox not arriving until April 13 but we’ll have a far earlier festival in 2026 due to the vagaries of our lunar cycle [Easter Sunday, 2026 is on April 5].

The biggest celebration date of the Christian calendar has links to the crucifixion date of Jesus which again has historical indicators based on lunar calendars.

There has been some convergence of opinions that the crucifixion date of Jesus was Friday, April 3, 33AD, which has always given a very sombre and penitential feeling to Good Friday.

Traditionally out the country it was considered to be a very lucky date for sowing the oats or barley – this year given the Spring we’ve enjoyed corn has been in the soil for a number of weeks – but years back, the critical part of this sowing process, was to get the task completed in the morning period.

The dietary regime for the day was always pretty spartan – maybe a boiled egg brown bread in the morning; herrings a few potatoes for lunch; with an evening tea of bread and Galtee cheese being the usual menu at our abode.

Back in the 1960s, there was of course no scarcity of priests with each church in the parish having their own ‘full diary’ of services, venerations and Masses through the course of the weekend, but we were always reminded that ‘there could never be a Mass on a Good Friday’.

By 3pm on that day, feet, legs, hands and face would be washed in warm basins of water – shower and baths were an unheard of luxury – but an early arrival at the church was always considered an necessity in order ‘to get a good seat’.

The Easter build-up to the ceremonies had us all well acquainted with the order of the services – on Good Friday it was always the Liturgy of the Word, the Veneration of the Cross, culminating in the Communion Service.

Good Friday did have its little more material indicators for the younger ones in that we knew we were on the cusp of coming to the end of finishing our Lenten sacrifices – nearly always the absence of sweets or chocolate – although in hindsight we never seemed to have too much of them in the first place.

Easter Saturday Night, maybe somewhat akin to the Muslim Ramadan practice, was the occasion when our little stocks of toffee sweets, Rolos, and Cadbury’s dairy milk chocolate could be tucked into without a tinge of guilt. By then, our souls and our digestive systems, had been well and truly cleansed.

Pictured: A glorious time of the year.