A lovely day
This has been a very nice Easter. Being somewhat grown up I have long given up on easter baskets and trinkets, yet this year I was sent hyacinths and beautiful soap and tonight my mother and stepfather arrived with huge bags of food which they somehow expect me to consume within the next three days. I spent much of the day curled up in bed with a bizarre 18th century novel which, though an obvious precursor to Jane Austen, sadly had not her knack for raising itself above its own time. I spent the rest of the day in conversation and arguing vehemently with C.S. Lewis in my notebook. As much as I love him, his views on Paradise Lost are far too coloured by his religion. He managed to miss the whole point of the epic. One simply cannot compare Satan to a character from Emma and I'm afraid I'm going to have to crush him (with as much kindness to him as I can manage) into tiny pieces in my paper tomorrow. Now I must stop eating tiny chocolate eggs and proceed to doing something useful...I have yet to read Mr. Lewis' comments on the other residents of Hell. I'm sure it will be equally witty and show just as much a lack of understanding.