la coco noire.

Let me tell you something that I learnt this week: the bank-holiday-weekend feeling is so much sweeter if you a) totally forgot it was coming up; b) absentmindedly arranged a work meeting for 9am on Good Friday and c) received four meeting rejections in the space of a minute because CHOCOLATE EASTER EGGS FEASTING RELAXING WINE and a spot of I HOPE YOU’RE NOT COMING IN ON BANK HOLIDAY FRIDAY!!??

When Facebook notified me that it was the first day of spring on Saturday, I actually squealed with excitement. I then shared the post with as many flower emojis as I could find and far, far, far  too many exclamation marks. Spring is the buttercream to my Viccy sponge, the absolute definition of jammy to my dodger and the main reason I manage to resurface again after those dark winter nights.

Like the rest of the world, I am a fully fledged pioneer of the beautiful wonders of LUSH products. Unfortunately though, the same cannot be said for my wee little bank account who begins looking so sad and weepy mid-month that I just don't have the heart to hit him with an £8.95 shower scrub bill. #Empathy, guys, empathy.

Thank the sweet Lord that the phrase you are what you eat is just that - a phrase. Because if it was  true then by day three of our trip to the Cotswolds I would have been a walking talking chocolate croissant with a cup of tea for hair and chocolate Easter egg feet. Yep, when I go on holiday I eat badly (or amazingly - you decide) because errrrybody knows that holiday calories do not count. And I dine out on that fact. Literally.