Sorry to bore you with some domestics. Today was our monthly-ish trip to Iceland, stocking up on frozen pizzas, veggies etc, and instant wolf it up stuff for when the kids are hungry and we’re busy.

What I wanted to write about is the sight that met me as I strolled through the door — Easter eggs, loads of them stacked high as you walk in. And row upon row of them, up and down each aisle. Why?

They must have gone mouldish and rottish by Easter at the end of March. We haven’t even hit Christingle for goodness sake.

So, lovers of great chocolate, tighten the rein on those who might be buying you such. Whisper things like ‘Belgian’ and ‘dark’ and guessing long enough to get the fresh stuff.

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

0 comments… Add yours

Your email will not be published on this site, but note that this and any other personal data you choose to share is stored here. Please see the Privacy Policy for more information.

Spelling error report

The following text will be sent to our editors: