It's the Jewish Passover and Pesach.

 It's the Jewish Passover and Pesach.

We are now back in the land of physical interaction and communication, gesturing and gesticulating, smiling and laughing, drinking and eating outside restaurants and inside restaurants, catching up with all the latest Hollywood blockbusters on the silver screen and just getting back to the usual business of going to work, retiring perhaps or simply improving ourselves at either college or university. These are exciting times and nothing can stop us from marching forward positively and revelling in our renewed freedoms.

For some of us the absence of any kind of Passover or Pesach seder night has truly been frustrating. Last year there were simply the three of us- my wife, father in law and our daughter- and, truth to be told it was a bit of a wet weekend which it certainly and metaphorically is not this year. As we look out of our windows here in North London, spring is in full blossom mode and everything is flourishing. The old narratives have been resumed and even Boris Johnson looks a lot happier if somewhat relieved. 

But for some of us Pesach meant family, the closely knit intimacy of the family unit when mums, dads, brothers and sisters, brothers in law and sisters in law, cousins, aunties and nieces with their baby, gather together for the two seder nights which somehow define the arrival of spring. On Monday it's Easter and all the religious connotations that come with it. The Jewish community tend to overlook the Hot Cross Buns and chocolate eggs and yours truly with family, indulge themselves in the matza- eating tradition.

How though we've missed both of the iconic Springtime festivals when the tulips and daffodils emerge from winter hibernation and we all feel ever so slightly more optimistic than otherwise might have been the case. The days are now lighter and brighter and the cold shivers of January and February are consigned to the cupboards and attics of cosy wintry afternoons and early evenings. Now we can get out and about, venturing into bracing, invigorating walks in the park with your dogs and for us an adorable 11 week old puppy named Barney. Barney is still waiting for all the appropriate vaccinations and shots. The day when we are allowed to walk the cute little canine can't come quickly enough.

But Pesach is still the joyous celebration that it's always been for as long as anybody can remember. Last night you joined the whole of your wonderfully loving and supportive family at your brother in law and sister in law. There were dogs, more dogs and an abundance of dogs. It bore an uncanny resemblance to Crufts, such was the vivid and loud presence of dogs. The three we met last night were just delightfully playful, scampering and scurrying across the floor, hiding under different types of furniture and play fighting with a vengeance but amiably.

Then we read from our Haggadahs, illustrating the whole ancient story of Pesach. There were the bitter herbs, the burnt egg and orange on the seder table, the impressive collection of Rakusen matzas and egg matzas and wine by the cellar load. Well, not quite that has to be a wild exaggeration. My brilliant brother in law Jon accompanied by his lovely wife Jo-ann proceeded to explain the tales of sacrifice, freedom, the trials and tribulations of the Jews eternal quest to escape persecution and why we had to lean on this night of nights.

Your nostalgic mind wandered back to the misty yesteryears. Back in my youthful adolescence, the two seder nights were observed magically by both my wonderful and, sadly late, parents and my grandparents. For my grandparents this was the happiest and most rewarding night of the year. After being traumatised quite horrifically by the Holocaust over 30 years before, Pesach was a time for salvation, redemption, positivity, looking forwards rather than backwards. It was time to acknowledge what we already had rather than striving for something that might have taken ages to find.

My dear grandparents were simply magnificent hosts. My grandfather was an inspirational and learned Hebrew scholar. He was, quite amusingly in retrospect, impossible to follow or understood. You sat there patiently hoping against hope that you'd discover why he was chanting and muttering through the service. He would look at me adoringly and yours truly would return the emotion. You would listen most attentively before the meal itself would be presented, my dear and lovely grandma serving a piping hot chicken soup, chopped liver and then chicken or lamb with roasted potatoes and vegetables. 

And finally there was the Cup of Elijah containing wine which had to be drunk by some invisible and spiritual presence. Your grandma would tell you to watch as the said goblet of wine would await the yearly visitor, marvelling at its arrival. Your mum and grandparents would insist that wine had been drunk while you weren't watching. There was a gentle ripple on the wine itself but then nothing followed stunned amazement. Pesach is all about renewal and regeneration, rebirth, lush greenery and the rich foliage that nature has now provided us with. To everybody, wherever you may be, have a fantastic Pesach or Passover and don't forget to eat as many chocolate Easter eggs as possible. And of course we should never forget Ramadan. Let the festival festivities begin. Enjoy.