Years ago, when I was in financial straits, I was employed as a life model for the local art school. I remember very well the first time, sitting on the edge of a low stage in nothing but my dressing-gown (or what I tried to think of as my 'negligee', to boost my almost non-existent morale), my heart thumping wildly, aware that there was no easy way of going back. The room was full of students behind their easels, waiting for the tutor. The door opened - and in came the tutor. Fright turned to near-paralysis - I'd met him socially a few nights earlier. Something got me through the next moments, but the memory can still make me a little bit breathless.
How do you acknowledge Easter.
Things you find stressful that other people don't notice.