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ORIGINAL: InTonguesslave

well today i kept my mum company and went with her to her local church.  a quintissential english church in the depths of hampshire (norman i believe), with primroses and violets growing on the graves and birds singing in the forest behind it.  we prayed for the world, for everyone who hurts and we belted out hymns till our throats hurt.  all ages young to old were there, a collection of easter eggs was by the door, i guess for kids who dont get given them and another collection for razor blades and shaving foam (i didnt ask).  as i sang and prayed i remembered that we (my family) used to organise an easter egg hunt in the grave yard for all the local kids and how i used to go around with tom, when he was very small and help him find the nests.