Easter chocolate ain’t what it used to be – could a Yorkie truck ride again?

Keen to indulge after his Lenten abstinence, Will Gore isn’t in the market for just any old egg

(Alamy)

Almost every Christmas as a kid, I would get ill. Not terribly; but enough to feel that life was a bit unfair. I loved Christmas and looked forward to it intensely, so when the sore throat kicked in, on or around December 23, my heart would feel pained at the injustice of it all.

Easter, by contrast, seemed to steal up out of nowhere, often coming at the end of a short term. There wasn’t really much time to build the anticipation; and anyway, we’d only be getting an Easter egg or two - nice, but without the element of surprise or jeopardy that existed with Christmas presents.

Most years we’d go to my grandparents’ place, which I loved. Seeing them was joyful in and of itself, and with spring usually showing its face by then, the whole getaway seemed always to be full of hope. I suppose I might have been channeling the resurrection story subconsciously, although the religious element of Easter was much less pronounced at Nana and Grandad’s house than at our own. As a seven-year-old, that suited me down to the ground.