One Easter Sunday, many moons ago, I remember there was some confusion over the delivery of our Easter eggs. My Mum was adamant the Easter Bunny had delivered them, but being the playful bunny he was, he’d hidden them somewhere in the house. Thus ensued a frenzied search for our eggs made of chocolate. We ransacked the house for hours, but it was fruitless. The eggs were nowhere to be found.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or the fact that I live in the city, but I’d take a holiday in the countryside over a city break anytime. Walks around hidden, tranquil lakes and grassy mountain trails, drinks by the fireside in small, local bars and drives along narrow, country roads with random pitstops in tiny villages and towns. Read more