Report 17: Day 16

Alcohol units: around 160

Showers: 7

Cat: 1(found)

Dog: 1

Wife: 1

Kids alive: 4

Potatoes: 10kg

In-laws: 2

Easter Eggs: 04

Dear Diary,

the day of the Easter Bunny and all its religious paraphernalia has arrived; while some will see today as a chance to celebrate the miracle that is Easter, smash chocolate eggs into their faces at an accelerated rate or merely enjoy the comfort and closeness of their families, that’s just not me right now. Dear Diary, call me the Easter version of Ebenezer Scrooge but bah humbug! I for one, am happy that I no longer need to stress over chocolate egg stocks, missing being away for Easter holidays instead of lockdown, or having to stay up very late so we can make powered-flour bunny feet and plant Lindt around the garden whilst kids are asleep.

Happy it’s all over; there I said it!

I have been more than a little grumpy today if I am honest; maybe the hangover from all the goings on in the house or the excessive amounts of marshmallow and hard candy eggs that I may or may not have consumed. Either way not a happy bunny. Nope.

Dazza across the road nominated me for the “Egg Challenge” (eye rolling emoji). This apparently involves filming yourself individually downing a raw egg, some tequila and depending on who you ask, a beer as well. You film it all and then post to Facebook and nominate the next lot. I watched a couple of these online. FFS, everyone seems to think that being “Nominated” is akin to getting the nod to a Nobel Peace Prize; honestly the amount of “thank you for the nomination, especially during these trying times…” and giving shout-outs to various family members and mates…you would think they were at the Oscars! Just down your egg Meryl Streep! There is no silverware coming to the trophy cabinet for this!

I am debating whether to do it or not; the real egg stocks are low AND I don’t have any tequila left after Friday nights session.

After the Easter Eggs were found and collected, we proceeded to do nothing but eat chocolate and laze around for the whole morning; there is nothing better than a chocolate marshmallow egg, a good up of coffee and a hot-cross bun to cheer you up.

Kids of course went berserk on eggs, with the youngest of the litter ending up vomiting two tons of half-digested Cadbury’s finest at about 11am. He literally “bounced back” half an hour later by sending most of the afternoon on the trampoline working off the sugar rush.

Must admit having the wife acting as advisor and consultant on the distillery has been a dream; I was a tad worried as she is pretty much a teetotaler but to be honest it’s like having Walter White on your team – he didn’t touch his wares either; the best drug dealers and narco cooks never do! She has come up with a simpler recipe and found some more of the “correct” ingredients.

She also found Raymond.

In a turn up for the books, the wife was carrying a fresh batch of potatoes to the shed when she opened door to find what can only be described as a scene from Reservoir Dogs!

Raymond had somehow quietly snuck back into the shed, probably when I was showing the wife the setup, and obviously decided to stay overnight. When the wife opened the door this morning, she was greeted with what looked like pure bloodshed covering the windows, patio furniture cushions and lawnmower. In the corner looking bedraggled and passed out and “bleeding” was Raymond.

It turned out that like his owner, Mrs. B, Raymond is a bit of a soak.

He had shifted the lid off the purifying alcohol and helped himself to a vat of slowly distilling vodka. You may remember that I had dyed the brew red with food colouring to give it its own distinctive look? It appears that Raymond had drank his fill (possibly thinking it was water?) then knocked the vat over onto himself and ran in wild and drunken circles through the shed until he passed out.

The wife, realizing that she was not looking at a Tarantino-esque scene but rather some food colouring, a comatose cat and her husband’s ex-moonshine, lay Raymond out on the grass to sober up while she sent me out to the shed to clean up; which I dutifully did cursing the ginger drunk all the while.

We are going to start a new brew of what my wife has now renamed “Raymond’s Revenge”. Not bad for a teetotaler. The sister-in-law has chipped in for a new sack of potatoes so now it’s truly a family affair.

Once Raymond was sober enough to go home, we notified Mrs. B’s daughter to let Mrs. B know that we would be releasing Raymond back into her care. At the appointed time I lightly dropped a now very red, but at least sober, Raymond onto his side of the fence and to an awaiting Mrs. B. She looked equally thrilled but confused by the return of her oddly coloured pet. For my part I offered no explanation and just waved hello.

Did the Egg Challenge; nominated a few mates and Poppie. Feel like sh*t. Had to replace the tequila with a shot of dry sherry (owing to the lack of tequila) …the combination is not something that will catch on round here very quickly.

RH