Living on the fourth floor of a block of flats meant Easter egg hunts were precarious to say the least.   My mother was good at hiding them, but I never felt confident with her scaffolding-erecting skills outside the lounge window.

In the 60s I’d get Easter eggs from benevolent relatives. They’d be from Cadbury’s and would contain (inside) a small packet of chocolate buttons – as if you’d not had enough chocolate with the actual egg!

Nowadays you can spend hundreds of pounds in Hotel Chocolat (who can’t even spell chocolate) or from Lindt (which, when I was growing up, was something you’d put on a wound).

Creme (what is it with the inability to spell correctly in the confectionary industry?) Eggs were introduced in the UK in 1963, the same year there was a rise in anti-emetic drugs.

I believe there is something in Easter eggs which make them even more addictive than normal chocolate. It clearly isn’t just the sugar.  Perhaps there is crack cocaine inside?  I’d be very unhappy if I were to get an Easter egg where a Curly Wurly had been replaced by some Class A drugs.

Although it might explain the ads with Terry Scott in in the 70s.

Happy Easter!