Egg on my face

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself yesterday. Forty minutes early for work on a sunny day, with my actual packed lunch relegated to the boot, I stopped at McDonalds Newham for some frites et sprites.

I parked and looked down at myself to undo my seatbelt. Oh. That's quite a lot of chocolate particles smushed into my jeans. Dark chocolate. Ice white jeans. Should definitely not have started eating Ro's Thornton's egg on the way to work.

Just incase, I donned my trench coat to slink into the toilets to check for more. Right. It appeared I'd sat on a large amount too. Spilt it on the car seat. Then had a good sit. Dark chocolate. Ice white jeans.

Keeping the long queue of gangs waiting I sequestered one of the only two toilets for stain removal. Probably the first time a bottle of Evian has been in Newham, let alone so liberally sloshed round a toilet cubicle. Stains removed to more of a large wet pattern, I ran out and drove to work.

Then I unhappily shimmied down in the car, legs high up on the dashboard, wet patches as close to the heater as I could.

Got it nearly dry before going in, and put the rest down to dip dye or whatever fashion kids are on these days.

Water, water everywhere

But not a drop to drink!

Lately I've been as worried as the farmers about the rich body of land I possess. Without a steady supply of chocolate fertilizer I just can't stay in tip top condition. The grave situation is this: for the last month I haven't had any chocolatey snacks. There's fruit, cheese, crumpets in abundance at Granny's, but none of what I really need to keep from drying up.

Then suddenly on Thursday I noticed drops of salvation appearing...
Two creme eggs on the side for my Aunty Mary, a bag of mini eggs in a drawer strictly to decorate a cake, a whole box of Thorntons delivered with the note 'Do not eat until Dad arrives', even Easter eggs for the patients at work!

Yet I was banned from eating them all, as hose pipes are from parched flower beds. My dry mouth could hardly unstick itself to open in protest. Not a drop for me?

Luckily "Christ's ressurection" was just around the corner, and with that the wells filled up (I got given 3 large Easter eggs, 12 little tiny ones, 2 medium ones, and a chocolate bunny). Indeed overflowed. The fields unwrinkled, the crops straightened, the buds unfurled. Praise be to Cadbury! I felt like Mary Magdalene herself was bathing my fevered brow with a flannel of melted chocolate.