For some reason my brain is searching constantly for evidence of my progression into, let’s call it middle age.
Easter presented me with just such ammunition as we celebrated the festival with an all-time low of three eggs; well five if you count the two Cadbury’s Creme Eggs which arrived on my desk at work encased in a chocolate shell; well two eggs and a Lindt Gold Bunny. Meg has wanted one ever since she became sensitive to advertising and now, probably fifteen years later, she is the proud owner of a mutilated lump of chocolate with a bell around it’s neck.
She may be eighteen now but she was press-ganged into the annual march around the house also known as ‘The Easter Egg Hunt’ which, this year, took the guise of ‘warmer-colder’.
Sensing my distress at impending old-age and disappointment at Meg’s lack of commitment, Jeff decided I should have my own game of ‘warmer-colder’ and fiendishly stashed my creme eggs in various (well, two) places around the home.
Can you spot one?