The Chocolate Thief

Since January 1^st, the shops have been full of brightly coloured foils covering little oval shaped chocolate. I am of course talking about the Creme Egg. Deliciously gooey centre wrapped in thick chocolate. Yum! I haven’t had the pleasure this season  . . . yet but I am hoping to indulge nearer Easter, if there are any left. And when I do, I eat them in two different ways, well the goo anyway. 

1.     Lick out the inside until I have a chocolate shell which is swiftly demolished.

2.    Use the wrong end of a teaspoon to eat the goo before demolishing the chocolate.

I would do anything for a Creme Egg or two and have done. Way back in the 90s when ‘I like to Move it’ was sung by a man and not a  ring- tailed lemur and the Ninja Turtles made living in a sewer cool, I was persuaded to jump off the lowest out of three diving boards. Now there are a few things you need to know here.  

1.     I do not like heights at all.                                                                            

2.    I can’t swim with my face in the water or even put my head in the water. I absolutely hate it.

3.    I can’t open my eyes in the water which doesn’t help with number 2.

But when a Creme Egg or two is placed into the equation, well it’s a different ball game. I was told that if I jumped off the bottom board, I would get three Creme Eggs. If I jumped off the top, I would get five. Think that’s pushing it a bit too far. But I agreed to the bottom board. That was the easy bit. It took a good half hour and cajoling to climb the steps and walk gingerly along the thin, springy board. I stood on the end and stupidly looked down. I’d seen people leaping off of this thing all day. I could do this. Three Creme Eggs would be mine . . . It was kind of peaceful up there if perilous, until I heard my friends chanting ‘Jump! Jump! Jump! And then everyone turned to look.  . . . No way back now . . . shaking with nerves, I closed my eyes . . . . and stepped off the board. . .

The water rushed over me as the noise of the pool disappeared. Like a tightly coiled spring, I burst to the surface to cheers and clapping. Woo hoo. I did it. I got my three Creme Eggs and never jumped of that board or another again. But it was well worth it!

Now I have digressed a bit but with reason. It shows that we would, or I would, do just about anything for a Creme Egg or any chocolate for that matter.  Because when you fancy chocolate, nothing else will do. Not a chocolate biscuit, not a low fat offering masquerading as chocolate and not a little bite of chocolate. It’s all or nothing. And when you want chocolate, you really want chocolate.

Now imagine you are an extremely organised person; so organised that the Easter Eggs you bought are sitting on top of the cupboards with a good layer of dust on them, almost forgotten about. I said almost. There’s no other chocolate in the house and you want it. Does it matter that you lovingly bought the Easter Egg for your nephew? Apparently not if you’re my sister. Just a nibble here, a broken piece there and before she knew it, she had gobbled the lot.

To be honest, you can’t give part of an Easter egg so to be fair eating the lot was the only option. And it’s amazing how quickly an Easter egg can disappear; all that packaging promising huge quantities underneath it’s glossy veneer but delivering very little in the actual content; bit like a politician really (ooh, get me with the political satyr). Surveying the damage of the broken box and screwed up foil, there was only one thing for it; hide the evidence and pretend it didn’t happen. Stuffing all the wrappings in the bin before boyfriend got home, sister continued innocently with her evening.

Nothing says ‘Chocolate Thief’ more than stuffing away the evidence! Shame on you! Stealing from your nephew. Oh ok . . .  he’s a teenager . . .  he’ll be happy with money . . . and he doesn’t know about it . . . unless he reads my blog . . . (highly unlikely) . . .  and technically, it’s your chocolate as you bought it and it’s not a gift until it’s given.

So on that note, I’m not sorry for buying chocolate for you (whoever that may be; too many to mention; oops) and then eating it. It was delicious.  It stopped a craving (for the time being) and more importantly . . . it was mine!

Happy Mothering Sunday (I hope any chocolate bought for you gets to you) and Happy Easter (if all else fails, tell the kids there was a recall on all Easter Eggs)

Love Undomesticated Devil xxx