Jonola14

I know, I know. Easter was weeks ago but it's taken me that long to get round to writing it up.

In previous years, organisational duties fell to the old man. But after years and years of the same hiding places, last year's race was won by yours truly in record time. This year, the old man was informed that his services were no longer required and instead, Ben took the reigns. Armed with a brand new digital camcorder and a three month old baby, Ben set about an Easter Egg Hunt restyling. It was certainly different.

TC (the old man) was informed that this year, since he was no longer Race Organiser, he would be taking part in the Easter Egg Hunt and Grandmother was given count management duties, involving counting how many eggs were in each hunter's specially designated box. There was also a rule change, no longer were the eggs marked with a hunter's name, this time it was a free for all. If you got to about six eggs, you'd be in with a good shout of winning. And no running was allowed.

So we lined up, each competitor eager to have his name etched on the trophy and awaited the signal from Ben 'Race Organiser'. In the middle of the lawn was an upturned terracotta flower pot - there might have been an egg inside it, there might not. Each competitor had his eye on it, but I was the favourite to reach it first.

We got the signal and it was go go go. I marched off towards the terracotta pot, highly suspicious of it but feeling the need to satisfy my curiosity. I gave it a swift kick and sure enough, there was nothing under it. "I KNEW IT!" I exclaimed, and pointed accusingly at Race Organiser who was, by now, aiming the new camcorder in my direction, sniggering.

There was a cry from the side of the lawn, Sophie 'The Tarb' had taken first blood and stormed into an early lead, soon matched by Carole 'Also Carrying Amelia', leaving Olivia, Jane and I barely anywhere and TC asking if we had started yet.

I marched off to the wendy house, the site of many an easter egg find over the years but wary of being spotted with both feet off the ground at any one time and therefore accused of running. There were some loose tiles piled on top of more terracotta flower pots. They looked a little out of place, like perhaps they had been put there recently? I lifted them and revealed a small blue tarpaulin, I frantically grabbed at that and sure enough, underneath was my prize. I snatched it up, walked briskly back to the Grandmother and slotted my prize in my box. I was underway.

But Also Carrying Amelia was building a lead with The Tarb closely behind. I was struggling. The usual hiding places were not bearing fruit. Or eggs. Whatever. Soon the leaders had hit three eggs and I was stuck, staggering through the undergrowth with very little to show for my efforts. This was no longer about finding eggs, this was about competition. I didn't mind defeat by Also Carrying Amelia, but by The Tarb? That was not an option.

Jane and Olivia squealed almost simultaneously, adding another egg to their totals but finds became rarer and rarer as more and more discoveries were made. I managed to locate one, wrapped in a black plastic bag and tucked in the large ditch pipe next to the fence in the front corner of the garden. This was no ordinary easter egg hunt, this was extreme hunting. I was one behind.

But only two eggs were left. We regrouped on the patio and the new Race Organiser managed to work out where the remaining eggs were. I needed them both to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, I was nervous, but it was possible and I was confident. "Think devious", Race Organiser advised. "Fiendish".

We ploughed on and I wandered to the far corner of the rear garden, suspicious that not more eggs had been found in the area. I approached the ditch and noticed that the camcorder was focused on me. TC had given up and looked on from his comfy seat on the patio, cup of tea in hand and doting on the number of potatoes he'd scoffed at lunch. But I was in the ditch, why else would the camcorder be on me if I wasn't expected to find an egg? I looked, but there was nothing. No egg. Where the hell were they?

I wandered off, certain that Race Organiser was only filming me so he could gloat later on about how far wide of the mark I had been. But as I paced away, Also Carrying Amelia shrieked with joy as she located an egg, stuffed down a rabbit hole right where I had been examining the ditch. Damn it! I knew I couldn't win. The best result I could hope for was a draw and then perhaps a victory in an Egg-Off.

But my hopes were soon dashed as Also Carrying Amelia once again exclaimed a shriek of delight and produced another egg from another rabbit hole, almost on top of the one she had just found. I had lost! Beaten into third place by my sister-in-law and worse, The Tarb had grabbed second.

The good thing is that next year, race organisational duties will pass to this year's winner - Also Carrying Amelia, who will undoubtedly introduce new rules. We might be doing a three-legged race, or blindfolded, but whatever we do, the reality of it is that Ben will be competing. And that makes it a whole new ball game. Well, egg game. Whatever.

A tremendous account. I am envious of your Egg Hunts. At the risk of sounding stupid, why is Sophie called The Tarb?

Sophie is called the Tarb because tarb is brat backwards.

B R A T = T A R B

so she is a backwards brat. And has been since I was eight and coined the phrase.

it's not this: http://www.acronymfinder.com/acronym.aspx?rec={28A01DD0-CDC0-4ED2-BB5F-5C700DE73488}

May 23, 2007

EASTER EGG HUNT 2007