It's a special time of year to be locked inside with nowhere to go. Easter should be a time of celebration rather than lockdown, but just to keep your spirits up, Ron McKay trawls the world to find some ideas to make the big day go with a bang ... or a smash ... or a song

It’s Easter Sunday and the usual rituals are mothballed. No gathering with friends, distant family and neighbours for a drink or a meal. Egg rolling is confined to your garden, if you have one, and if not down the stairs in the close, although it will have to be remotely planned with your neighbours, to avoid cross-contamination – who wants colliding eggs and the collateral damage that could cause, never mind the potentially-hazardous spray of droplets and expletives? The soundtrack should be Roll Away The Stone by Mott The Hoople.

Some doolally people believe the 5G network is carrying the virus, so it’s altogether more likely – although not at all likely – that egg splatters could do it. Well, the thing is thought to have started in a livestock market, not on a piece of tiny hardware 30 metres above Earth. So rather than setting fire to masts, disinfecting wally closes would be more efficacious.

Today is, of course, the religious high point of the year, although you won’t be able to go to church unless you’re living in a Bible Belt state, which I’m sure you’re not, or in Ohio where a woman leaving a packed church told CNN she’d be okay because she was “covered in Jesus’ blood”, while not showing any outward signs. And they let these people out in public to mingle!

If you are not in Ohio, there are all sorts of virtual services taking place, if you need religious sustenance, from churches and abbeys throughout the world, from the plain and unadorned to the celebrity.

Chanter Andrea Bocelli is streaming a live performance on his YouTube channel tonight at 6pm from the epicentre of the virus, Milan and its empty Duomo. And the seriously wacky Kanye West and über-diva Mariah Carey are taking part in one from a mega-church in Houston, although I hate to think what they’re going to duet – Ave Mariah? – and what it’s going to sound like.

Easter is celebrated in all sorts of different ways, in normal times and abnormal ways, throughout the world. Here are some alternative suggestions for our pandemic age.:

In the Czech Republic and Slovakia, men and boys roam the streets with ribboned willow switches looking for girls to whip, which is, surprisingly enough, not a jailable offence, but is meant to hasten good health and beauty. That’s out, of course, with lockdown, which is pleasing to about half of the population.

In the Philippines, devout Catholics practice self-crucifixion and flagellation, which can, of course, be done at home with a dog’s lead or a length of barbed wire, but tends to play havoc with the soft furnishings.

Instead, the scourging should be done with wall-to-wall episodes of Mrs Brown complete with subtitles, which won’t make any more sense than the spoken word.

The Easter Bunny eschews visiting New Zealand, and who can blame it (although it’s a lot safer from Covid-19) because in Otago, while we’re rolling our eggs, they grab their guns and go on The Great Easter Bunny Hunt, with a top prize for the most flopsies killed. More than 20,000 get it each Easter, which hardly seems spiritual.

These bloodthirsty Kiwis clearly like a spot of adventure. They need to form a WhatsApp group and climb Everest virtually, although unfortunately there won’t be any avalanches or plunges from great heights, unless it’s down a set of stairs.

The challenge is to climb the mountain quickest (no oxygen required) by repeatedly climbing stairs inside or outside as if ascending the world’s highest peak. It’s about 41,000 steps, equivalent to the 8,850 metres.

For the older or more sedentary it’s to get to Everest base camp, some 6,000 steps, and set up your own survival tent from several sheets, cardboard boxes, clothes racks or chairs. The heating has to be turned off and the windows opened, just to simulate the real experience.

Believe it or not, people are actually doing this in Britain.

In Hungary, young men pour buckets of water over young women to aid fertility, although you might have thought it would dampen the urge. This can still be done it you live in a high flat but it’s not likely to bolster community spirit.

Why not just mix washing-up liquid in a bowl with water and make bubble wands from wire or coat hangers – you can even loop your thumb and first finger to make one, although it’s a touch messy – and blow them out the window. Although it’s a lot quicker and more fun with the bucket of water.

In Greece, they paint eggs completely red, symbolising that Christ blood again, but also the stuff under the skin which keeps us alive. This presents two linked problems.

First off you probably can’t get any eggs in the supermarket, because the shelves have been pillaged, and certainly not the free range ones because all the eco-conscious hoarders have nabbed them. Then there’s the paint problem.

With many DIY emporia closed for the duration, where are you going to get the paint? Perhaps there’s lipstick lying around of vaguely the right shade? Crayons? You could let a vein, but that seems a little extreme, and you can’t invite a self-flagellator round, what with the distancing. Try ketchup or dip them in a tin of tomatoes.

In Haux, France, they have an even more eggs-centric ritual, where they crack 4,500 of them into a huge frying pan in the square and make a massive omelette, probably mixing it with a shovel, to share among the villagers. This clearly can’t be done today, for all of the reasons already stated. If you are community-spirited you could donate to a foodbank, or lob a goodie at a neighbour out for the permitted walk or, if you don't like them, a brick.

In Corfu, they gather at their windows at 11am and when the church bell sounds hurl water-filled crockery and jugs into the street, the symbolism of which is to create an earthquake like the one which is supposed to have occurred with Christ’s resurrection, or alternatively may just be a way of letting off steam.

I suspect it’s probably sponsored by a pottery company or a household goods shop. This, however, is a practice to be encouraged, particularly appropriate when you’ve got a nuisance neighbour. You can always replace with plastic or, if saving the planet, paper.

For Norwegians – who cleave the darkness and don’t have much choice for much of the year – it’s criminal intent time. TV channels run wall-to-wall crime shows and publishers commission new detective tales and whodunnits to come out for this weekend.

Across the country people escape to mountain cabins and plough through the grisly tomes.

It’s a great idea which was apparently kicked off by a 1923 novel called Bergen Train Looted In The Night (eat your heart out Ian Rankin).

We obviously can’t travel to our country retreats, unlike the former Chief Medical Officer, but we can grab a bundle of thrillers and retreat to the garden hut, or that Everest base camp on the landing, disturbed only by the far-off sounds of Kanye and Mariah or earthenware shattering on concrete.