Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday started as all Easter Sundays should, with dippy eggs and hundreds & hundreds of soldiers.

Really buttery soldiers with flaked sea salt.

My second favourite type of soldiers. But come on, what’s buttery toast compared to a man in uniform? Custard fervently disagrees.

He’s all about the butter.

Breakfast swiftly moved onto bubbles as we welcomed friends joining us for lunch.

And my gorgeous sister…

…who’s due to pop in 4 weeks time, giving my brothers & I our first ever nephew! Pregnant girls are generally fuelled by a need for one thing… chocolate. Which is lucky, because soon it was time for our annual, epic, Fiendishly Difficult Easter Egg Hunt.

Every year Mum & Dad write 20 fairly cryptic clues and hide eggs where they lead. The number of eggs in the spot depends on the difficulty of the question. So “Where a king would hide” (an oak tree) is worth 3 eggs, whereas “Still rocking after all these years” (the rocking horse) is only worth 1. You’re split into teams & everyone races to collect the most eggs. The team with the most, wins! This year we had two teams. One headed up by my brother.

The other lead by me.

As my team won (naturally) we were allowed to choose our eggs first, but weren’t even allowed a bite before sitting down to mum’s world famous roast lamb.

We ate until our top buttons popped… and then a little bit more. Over pudding we played my dad’s favourite game Ex Libris.

Before working off our lunch with a long walk & fierce game of rugby in the orchards.

Totally out of puff, hot, tired (& wet, in Felix’s case) we headed back to the house for tea, port & our hard-won chocolate eggs.

Just in time for an evening of movies infront of the fire.

What did you get up to this year?

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