It’s the Wednesday after Easter and himself has taken the 3 year old off for the day to help digging a garden. This leaves me on my own with the baby, who has just fallen asleep.
Sitting on the kitchen table are a number of Easter Eggs, unopened and while I would really like to crack 1 open and demolish it on the spot I’m craving something a bit more filling so I wander to the cupboard to check out the bread stock. I was originally intending a crisp and chocolate sandwich which would marry the two salty and sweet flavours in a savoury bit of bread. I begin to salivate a bit.