Pace egging and other Easter pursuits.

On Easter Sunday we keep the Northern tradition of pace egging alive. Instead of decorating real eggs - boiled! - we roll our chocolate eggs downhill to see which one can reach the bottom unscathed. We normally stand in a row and throw the eggs down all at the same time, but the steep, wild part of our daughter's garden doesn't allow for that so we had the drama of taking turns, and tips, as chocolate hit tree stumps and caramels exploded everywhere. The smartie egg was the winner, absolutely shattered but kept together by the strength of the silver foil wrapper. In the afternoon we were invited to a beach hut for tea and cake, and fizz. The weather was dry but the wind was absolutely biting and the only way to escape it was to be inside the hut. Rather too many of us for that as everyone from both households were home. It was lovely to meet a family who have a long history with Bournemouth, a place so new to us. The father had been a gp, as had his father before him, working from their home just a walk away from the beach. All the family, apart from the mother, are very keen swimmers. I was so impressed to hear that the elder daughter does the annual round Brownsea Island swim.