Dear Diary: Easter Weekend



Ah Tuesday, you dirty little pest.

I’m currently drinking a peppermint tea with the hope it will somehow cancel out all the Ferrero Eggs and nachos and wine that accidentally tumbled into my belly over the four-day weekend. Not my fault, promise.

Anyway, I thought I’d give you the lowdown on my blogging-free, vlogging-free, email-free little break because it was an absolute little slice of heaven.

I’ll start with a secret. The sort of thing I probably shouldn’t air to the world but what the heck, you know I like to keep things real and honest and overshare and that.

Last weekend, the one that came before the days of chocolate-smeared pyjamas, Chris and I went for a Thai.

It wasn’t very nice tbh, the Pad Thai looked like grated carrots and I have no idea why the noodles were luminous orange, but y’know, that’s not the main pinnacle to this story. The pinnacle is, that we had a bit of a disagreement.

The sort that makes me go quiet and order an extra glass of house red wine because FFS why can’t you just agree with me ALL. THE. TIME.

The gist of it was that I’m at home on my own most days and Chris is at work in an office surrounded by people most days, so at the weekend I want all the people and wine and party down bitches, and well, he wants a cup of tea and some quiet time.

So we decided that for Easter we wouldn’t organise some mass family roast dinner at ours, we wouldn’t drive down to Sussex, we wouldn’t do anything all-consuming, we would just y’know, be.


But somehow, I managed. I know, pray for Hannah, whack the violins out. and keep me in your thoughts.

We kicked off Thursday night with a celebratory cider in front of the TV and a big whopper of a burger delivery from a new place in town called Smokey Joe’s. The burgers legit tasted like something from London. Hashtag exciting country life. They were that good.


Although the macaroni cheese appeared to not actually have any cheese in it and I was mildly sad about it because y’know macaroni cheese is one of the true loves of my life.

And then on Friday, after a swim because gurl gotta pretend to burn off that stack of chocolate-y eggs, we headed into Cambridge on the train.

I won’t detail every pitstop we made, but we basically did some sexy food and bar crawl around the city. We didn’t have a plan, we just kind of wandered and slowly got more drunk and OH LOOK LET’S BUY A GLITTERY LUSH BATH BOMB and wahey, rooftop cocktails we livin’ da God damn dream.

And then we orered all the food in Prezzo and drank cheap cocktails and then yes, it’s essential we get tinnies for the train home because heaven forbid we’re not drunk enough.

It got my excited for New York in a weird way. That whole care-free, no plan, just exploring a city and living in the moment kind of thing. And, because neither of us had brought phone chargers out with us, we kind of had to actually properly interact without HEY HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT <INSERT NAME HERE> JUST UPLOADED TO INSTA?

I liked it. I liked it a lot.

We spent Saturday beating out hangovers like pro adults, with a why has Winter come back plz? stroll around a local car boot looking for planters for the garden. Might have snapped up a lil bacon roll too because y’know, gotta fit in with the car boot scene.

And then we dedicated the rest of the day to digging up a flower bed, planting peony bulbs, weeding and hugging bottles of water under a duvet on the sofa.

I did that mega clever thing of not asking Chris what he wanted to watch and just sticking on Scandal so that by the third episode he was looking more at the TV than his phone and hello what’s that? YOU’RE AS ADDICTED AT ME? (I did the exact same thing with Pretty Little Liars and now we send each other links to online theories).

My sweet lord, writing is hard after four days off. Especially with a cat clawing at the fridge (like mother like daughter, eh?) and next door’s kids getting shouted at in the garden for I dunno what. Bear with me. Or bare with me. Something like that.

Anyway, back to Easter.


We woke up before the storm clouds hit on Sunday for a takeout coffee and stroll around Manningtree and Mistely. We’ve started doing that thing where we plan where we want to live next, where we can afford, and eyeing up dream homes. MATE, I’M EVEN GOING TO OPEN ONE OF THEM SAVE TO BUY ISAS LIKE A REAL GROWN-UP KINDA LASS.

But after looking in a few estate agent windows we decided that you know what’s real super sexy nice? Ipswich house prices. And so maybe we’ll stay here forevermore so we can own more than a double garage.

We made bacon hot cross buns and cleaned the house before whipping up a cracking lamb roast. That is, just btw, the reasons the cats are clawing at the fridge door. They want leftover roast lamb. The little tubbers. And I’d give them some too, if I hadn’t helped them polish it of before bed last night. Insert moon emoji here plz.

And then yesterday? Well yesterday was dedicated to cancelling Pilates in favour of listening to the storm in bed and going pretty hard and heavy at Nando’s. I mean, I have no regrets, except that I didn’t have enough room for a little saunter over to the cinema afterwards for a big ol’ scoop of ice cream.

Then when we retreated home, I waded through a pile or ironing and Googled what happened next to the girls from 16 and Pregnant.

No, you’re a broken record.

But I feel so at peace. I mean, it could be because I’ve moved from the dining table to my bed to type this because the cats clawing at the fridge was just too much for a first day back at work, and my new John Lewis duvet cover makes me feel like I’m lying on a cloud.

But also because spending quality time with my boo, without work and social obligations getting in the way, always feels good and comforting and reassuring.

Reminds me that when it comes down to it, I don’t need other people to lift me up and make me happy, I make me happy.

And Chris makes me happy and the cats make me happy. Our little life makes me happy, and that is enough. Anyone else is just a super dreamy bonus on top of that, y’know?

Anyway, I’m going to leave you here because the Tesco delivery truck just pulled up outside and I’m already dreaming up some tomatoe-y, olive-y pasta extravaganza for lunch.

Peace out. May you have enough Easter chocolate left to make this week survivable.




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