Bairbre Power: 'I've developed an egg infatuation this Easter, but it's not of the chocolate kind...'
I've been eyeing up my chocolate Easter egg, which has been waiting patiently on the shelf for the last few weeks, and have decided to ease my pain by placing it firmly out of temptation's way.
Yes, I am a chocoholic, but I've managed to curb my yearnings over the decades. In my early days as a cub reporter, work could take me from the courts to an inquest, followed by a late-night council meeting, so I always had a half-eaten Mars bar in my pocket to provide energy while on the run.
I've reduced my daily chocolate intake since then to comprise a square of good dark chocolate most nights, but old longings linger. I still favour a Mars Easter egg so I did the self-gifting thing when they arrived into the shops this year.
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Last week, after a friend had to make an emergency trip to the vet with her dog who had gotten hold of their chocolate stash, I dashed home to check on my own egg and pooch. Adorable as she is, this mutt could qualify for a part-time job assisting pigs sniffing out expensive truffles, so good is she at finding things she shouldn't.
Thankfully, Romy is not into shoes and straps of leather bags, but she knows chocolate is off-limits and, naturally, this is what she likes most (after chew sticks).
I'll never forget the Sunday morning I had to make a 7am dash to the veterinary hospital in UCD after a swipe from a mother fox in our back garden left her with a nasty cut in her head. In fairness to the mum fox, she was only taking precautions to protect her young that were living under my garden shed.
Foxes in the garden I may not be able to legislate for, but I can certainly do my best to contain any chocolate risks. So I hid the chocolate egg in a suitcase with my summer clothes - locking it for good measure.
Gazing out into the back garden (where the fox incident had taken place), reminded me of a garden drama friends of mine had experienced one Easter Sunday morning.
They looked out the window before the children's Easter egg hunt and there it was - the neighbour's rabbit, minus his head! And the culprit was the other neighbour's cat. With the children primed for an egg hunt, how would they explain away the fact that there was the Easter Bunny, decapitated, in their back garden?
I must have been a really boring mum. I never did Easter egg hunts when my pair were growing up. When I see all the crafting that goes on these days, like painting blank eggs and then creating your own Easter egg tree in a rainbow of pastel colours and initials, I am tempted to get stuck in myself.
Maybe now that I'm 'vibrating at a different frequency', as my New Age friends tell me, I am open to discovering some new hobbies. I have more free time at weekends and evenings too, and crafty activities appeal. After years of mocking the industrious Americans for maintaining dedicated 'crafting rooms' in their homes, and sitting in nightly to engage in their rugmaking, knitting, crocheting and memory book circles, I've got a grá for them myself.
But while I love a chatty cuppa and book clubs work for me, if I am to be creative, and concentrate, I think I am better off on my own doing a little painting or sewing (now that I'm trying to avoid cakemaking in order to loose half a stone before the holidays).
I won't call it a hobby, exactly, but one 'crafty' solitary pastime I've taken up involves a Jade Face Roller my daughter brought home as a gift from New York. Rolling your face with Jade has been a beauty ritual in China since the seventh century. So this week, after I dropped the TV box and Netflex disappeared, I simply sat rolling my face, hoping for that promised improved elasticity and reduced puffiness and fine lines. Metaphsyically, Jade is thought to attract luck and opportunity. So as a hobby, it might just catch on.
What will I be doing this Easter? Unlocking one egg from its hiding place and rolling my face with the other while gazing out at my five gorgeous Cherry blossom trees.