At the time of writing, Friday hasn't happened yet. But that's never stopped me. Easter will be spent in London, with lashings of ginger beer and full advantage taken of the vast empty spaces left by the hordes who've departed for foreign climes. Sol permitting, one such place should be Hampstead Heath, which is a grand place for a picnic. But be careful: odd things happen. A friend -- now long since departed -- was enjoying an Easter perambulation on the Heath one year when he came across a large cross embedded firmly in the ground overlooking central London. Being an easy-going chap, he wasn't quick to take offence from any religion -- but this was different! Vandalism of one of his favourite bits of urban countryside. So he set about pulling it down. After about quarter of an hour of huffing and puffing, down it came. He looked up from his labours to see several members of the Heath's constabulary bearing down on him at some speed, with a couple of Angry Christians in their wake. Turns out that said erection was in fact 'a long running tradition' and due to problems from local kids the fuzz had been lying in wait. Turning the other cheek wasn't on the menu that day: the agenda was strictly smiting the ungodly. My friend survived without being landed with the sort of record that gets you thrown out of America these days -- can you imagine explaining this to immigration at Atlanta? -- but it just goes to show. Live and let live: it's not just a good idea, it's the law. Especially on the Heath. Click here to see more of Rupert's diaries.