On this day in 1633 the first bananas were imported into England. How they survived the long sea voyage from the Bahamas and were still in a fit state to be eaten beats me, but I do not doubt that they were enjoyed. How we managed to survive World War II without bananas is also a mystery to me, but we did — just.
Why this talk of bananas when you were probably expecting a line or two about the Resurrection? There are some truths so profound one must either write at length or very briefly about them. I tore up my Easter Day post as being too long to read yet not long enough to convey what I wanted it to convey. Then I went and ate a banana and realised that there are banana moments just as there are marmite toast moments.
Marmite toast is comfort food; a banana is as near to paradise as we are ever likely to get in this life. The golden skin of those we eat in Britain, the fragrance, the warm and slightly yeasty taste are a foretaste of the ambrosia we expect at the heavenly banquet. If we are to taste and see that the Lord is good, I think bananas must come high up on the list for doing so — much better than a chocolate Easter egg. So, if you have not yet celebrated Easter in the kitchen, eat a banana, and think how healthy your alternative choice is!