Easter Egg Hunt

There are no toilet rolls, bottles of hand sanitiser or bags of pasta on the shop shelves. There’s no fresh chicken. Little to no beef. Indeed, I’m looking at roadkill in a slightly different light with each passing day. There aren’t any eggs either. But I had a plan. A truly cunning plan. So Mrs P and I jumped in the car and put my plan into action.

That plan basically involved driving about 30 miles into the countryside to a small church. Fitting, as all we could do was pray that my plan would work. Next to the church is a little lane leading down to a small cottage. And, if memory served me right, outside the front door of that cottage I would find a box. A box labelled ‘Free Range Eggs’

We drove. We prayed. We found the box. We prayed a little more. We opened the box. Had we been beaten to it by other egg starved townies with better egg hunting skills? We had not! Inside were seven boxes of fresh eggs. At £1.20 a box they are also incredibly cheap. We were tempted to take the lot. But we are not selfish dicks. So we took just what we need, put the right coinage in the honesty box, and left. Feeling very pleased with ourselves.

We then went on another 20 miles to a small farm shop. It lies half way up a hill, a short ride up a dirt track. It truly is in the middle of nowhere. But it is a treasure trove of basic fresh foods. We bought what we needed. Fresh milk dispensed by tap from a barrel. A couple of bags of earthy potatoes. A butternut squash. Some frozen burgers.

We shall survive another week. Hurrah.