Easter, a time for lying to myself.
Every time I eat an Easter egg I lie to myself and I lie to the people around me. This happens every year, without fail. I’m pathological.
“I’ll just have half of this egg, I won’t eat a full one.”
Liar. I’m a liar. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I try to convince myself I’m a half-an-egg kind of guy. I’m not a half-an-egg-kind of guy. I’m a full-egg-now-even-if-I’m-sick kind of guy. I go through this charade of pretending though. It even get’s wrapped up and put back in the box.
“I’ll just wrap this half up. I’m wrapping this half up and I’m gonna save it for later. I’ll have that half later on with a cup of tea. I’ll even put it back in the box to show you how committed I am to not eating the second half of this egg”.
5 minutes later the kettle is on and I’m frantically unwrapping half an egg. Not to worry though as I’ve got three little words that instantly take the guilt away.
“Well, it’s Easter!”
Guilt free chocolate binging, love it.
This year I had three eggs, which means I lied to myself three times. I also took a road trip. (Is Easter even Easter if you don’t drive somewhere for an hour in the rain?)
The road trip took us somewhere pretty remote which means the price of things instantly doubled which was great. I got peckish and decided to buy a chocolate bar.
“Well, it’s Easter!”
I had 93p in change and couldn’t afford a chocolate bar. A KitKat was 95p. Unbelievable. (I’d gone an hour without eating chocolate so I was understandably grumpy.)
Maybe it’s my fault for clinging onto a nineties pricing structure when I buy chocolate etc. I’m setting myself up for a fall. I’m still clinging on to:
Can of Coke 50p
Mars Bar 30p
Caramel Taz 15p
Maybe I’m just clinging on to the 90s in general. It was definitely the best time to buy Caramel Taz’s.
At least my out-of-date pricing structure is only for confectionary. My Dad is convinced everything costs £5. Everything.
Trip to cinema £5
Pair of jeans £5
Pair of trainers £5
Mobile phone £5
He recently had a panic attack in John Lewis when he saw the price of the board game Ludo. It was almost as if he couldn’t process the price. My Mum just heard him shout “Twenty five quid for Ludo?!” in what she described as a panicked yell. He then got extremely flustered and had to leave the store immediately.
Some people say I’m turning into my Dad.
“Ninety five pence for a KitKat?!”
I don’t see it.