When I was a lazy, greedy child, Easter was brilliant. A chocolate fest, and the eggs were handed to you, giving the festival an edge on Halloween, where we would trundle round in the October drizzle, begging for a frankly mediocre haul.
The only effort I was happy to put in was for the Easter Egg Hunt, which came after tea. My mother was so ingenious, even with a decades-long span of having to come up with new egg hiding places for the amusement of her five children, that she once reduced one of our spouses to tears of frustration. (Not mine.)
Being here in Muscat, I miss the hunt, which still takes place at MimHouse, as it's been christened by her grandchildren. But I'm very happy to see that the tradition is being kept up and even built upon by my brother. Here is what he handed to our small nephews when they came to visit this Easter Sunday.