Every Easter brings back memories...
I fondly remember back when I was 7 or 8 waking up Easter Sunday at my father's parents house in Wanaka, in
beautiful Central Otago. Autumn would be well and truly under way and before the family was dressed and ready for
church my older brother, sister and I would hurriedly hunt around my grandparents garden for eggs. We would up-turn the
carefully raked piles, throw and toss the golden poplar leaves at each other, whilst all the while filling our little
cane baskets until they overflowed with colourful foil wrapped chocolate bunnies, chocolate, crème and marshmallow
eggs.
Isn't that a lovely memory? Well, unfortunately no because none of it is true. In truth my mother was pragmatic to
the extreme and far more economically minded than this fantasy suggests.
Instead, straight after school finished on the Thursday evening before Good Friday, while Dad loaded the car for our 4
hour car ride to my grandparents. Mum handed us each a 250 gram block of Cadburys and declared it was Easter.
Hey, after all we all went to church - we didn't need our Easter chocolate to remind us of the meaning of Easter or
promote "new life". Besides, most importantly in Mum's view, a king sized block of chocolate was far
better value for money.
It may not surprise you then that having suffered through a childhood bereft of rodent shaped chocolates, I perhaps now
tend to overindulge my own fairies with everyone's favourite bunny each Easter.
I hope you get your very own chocolate bunny this Easter too!
|
|
