Now that my children are 21, 21 and 24 I thought the time for Easter egg hunts had perhaps passed.
When I picked Carenza up from Uni, she said
“I told my friends about our annual Easter egg hunt and they thought it was sweet.”
Later that afternoon, I bought around two dozen little fair-trade Easter eggs, each wrapped in gold foil.
On Easter morning I hid them round the garden. There were so many that I ran out of hiding places.
However, due to the clocks going back, it was a scramble to get out to church, so there was no time to hunt the eggs.
Never mind, they were safely wrapped in gold foil.
They would wait.
After church, some friends came back with us for lunch.
The egg hunt was postponed again.
Finally, about five hours after I had hidden them, Pascoe, Perran and Carenza went out to look for the eggs.
They found only seven.
We have two theories: one is that the vicar who lives next door vaulted the fence and stole our chocolate. If this proves to be true, we shall certainly be converting to Methodism.
The alternative is that the magpie, lured by the winking gold foil, has taken the eggs and that somewhere they are glimmering inside its nest.
Later, we spotted a magpie seeming to have trouble taking off and flying heavily across the field.
Looks like the vicar’s in the clear.