A weekend of sloth, interspersed with eating, drinking and wallowing in nostalgia, which is not a bad way to do things.  One of these was a secular naming ceremony, which was a new one.  I rather admired it: it was a relaxed affair for family and friends and, most importantly, it reflected what they believed.

A child, name proclaimed into the open air. The angel's share of malt whisky was brushed across his sparse hair. Life, started hopefully, without heaven's intervention.