Originally posted on greenfairydotcom

I have gone to my parent's for Easter.

I am not really sure why.

Neither one of us are religious in the slightest, so the sole reason for my attendence at this time seems to be the annual egg hunt that for people in their fifties my parents take unnatural glee in. This event has been going since I was a child, and they seem to see no reason why just because I'm now twenty five it should stop (though this time I am absolutely refusing to participate in the British Legion's Easter bonnet competition after my magnificent effort of last year - an abstract design on the influence of the bawdy seaside theme in popular culture - was criminally denied by the judges the first prize tin of Quality Street).

Unfortunately, my parents are also the type of insane people that are in bed by nine in the evening and up at five ("Best part of the day, dear!") - our radically different body clocks meant that when I was living at home I hardly ever saw them - which combined with their enthusiasm for such activities means that this egg hunt usually takes place at about six in the morning, after I have been woken up by my mother yelling outside my bedroom door that she thinks the Easter bunny's been (at Christmas it's the same - my dad in Santa beard and hat banging out the tune to 'When Santa Got Stuck Down The Chimney' on my door). As I get older, I find the exchange of sleeping hours for chocolate less and less attractive.

To make things worse, my parents do not consider the limits of our property as suitable boundaries for the hunt. Last year I was escorted over the recreation ground and down to the beach in my pyjamas ("What? No, you don't need any clothes dear, who's going to be looking?") with my parents shouting "Cold! Cold! Oooh, getting warmer! Warmer! Warmer! Hot hot hot!" every few yards.

But this year I will have my revenge. My parents are slaves to Toblerones, so I've bought one of those massive eggs that come with twenty bars of the stuff and I'm going to put it on the roof of the fecking church.

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