SOME of you may be reading this with a gob full of Red Tulip, struggling to turn the pages or scroll the mouse due to chocolate-christened digits.
Well-done to you.
Mrs Reggie will not be joining you this year. Not to the usual degree anyway.
This is the first Easter Mrs Reggie has been pregnant.
It presents a few situations.
Ordinarily I just pull out the specially modified intravenous rig, begin melting gallons of chocolate, then ask Mrs Reggie which arm she would prefer it in this year.
A baby on board changes that. Midwives have reinforced to us that everything should be done in moderation- coffee, exercise, dessert, consuming pure Lindt blocks the size of bricks, etc.
Every page of every catalogue is choking with chocolate, chocked fuller than a chubby choc lover about to chunder.
They don’t help. The pictures in the catalogues just don’t taste the same, no matter how much you close your eyes and lick them.
This year, Mrs Reggie would be better off having the carrot left out for the Easter bunny, rather than the products he leaves.
Try telling that to someone who has memorised the flavour sequence within a 250g block of Snack.
A while back we established a medical condition for what she has: Chocoabetes.
It’s sort of like diabetes but rather than a shot of insulin, a shot of chocolate is required to get through the day or hour, depending on the severity.
The same goes for hot cross buns- moderation. It’s not even worth joking about wholemeal, dairy-free alternatives; you might as well wrap up a rock and hand it to her (which would could prove fatal to the giver).
It does provide a positive though. It forces us to shift our gaze beyond chocolate at Easter.
After all, it wasn’t a fluffy, chocolate secreting bunny that got hammered to a cross.
Happy Easter to all, and have an extra egg for us.
Name of the Week: Cadbury Ferrero-Nestlé