A Cheapo Easter

Many lament the decline of the traditional Easter, claiming the spirit of the Holiday is lost in a sea of commercialisation which sees chocolate eggs in supermarkets as early as December. Personally, I have turned a blind eye to this on most occasions. Because I’m a bit of a cheapskate, people expect not to receive an Easter gift as I’ve usually spent all my money on their Christmas present, so guilt isn’t an issue. It’s not all about Crème Eggs and hot cross buns, after all.

It stands to reason, though, that the first time I actually make an attempt to conform that my efforts are thwarted by factors beyond my control. It seems Modern Easter eggs are of substandard quality, packaged loose in a cardboard ‘basket’ thing that offers no protection from anything whatsoever, never mind a short journey in the boot of a Kia Picanto. The result? An Easter Sunday spent collecting the million bits of chocolate strewn across the floor, and that’s before the box had even been opened.

You could say it serves me right for buying my eggs while they were on ‘special offer’ two months ago, but I daresay the full-price versions would be just as susceptible to severe damage from the slightest of jerks.

I can imagine hundreds of disappointed youngsters scrabbling around on the carpet as they try to salvage segments of their gift, which is rapidly becoming the dog’s brunch, all because dad neglected to wrap the thing in bubble wrap and carry it the full six miles from the supermarket to home. In certain (more affluent) corners of the world, it’s akin to child cruelty, but that’s alright because it’ll save us from global warming. In actuality, I doubt even Superman would be able to stop the world from frying like those tomatoes I tried to grow in my greenhouse last year.

Never mind, for on my journey to said supermarket I also managed to obtain some dirt cheap hens’ eggs, which provided a more than acceptable Easter Sunday fry up. It won’t make up for my destroyed chocolate egg, which now sits partially trodden into the shag pile, but at least the dog won’t go hungry this Easter.