In Englandshire, there seems to be a strange Easter custom of hiding eggs around the house and encouraging children to look for them on the premise that the "easter bunny" has hidden them. It's like a foreign country down there.
Meanwhile, I was out running, lost in the misty farmland somewhere 'twixt Saffron Walden and Debden. Holly, Helen and Kate were boiling and decorating eggs. Later on we found a grassy slope overlooking Littlebury and chucked our eggs down it in the conventional way, strewing the place with inedible albumen and creating a corner of a foreign field that will be forever Scotland. At least until the egg gets eaten.
It was such a pleasant spot, we hung around and explored. We picked flowers, saw deer and pheasant, and rummaged in a stream before heading down to a nice wee playground in Littlebury.
Here then, are a couple of quick video clips of Holly and Louis see-sawing to an a capella soundtrack from Grandma Pat:
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