Family Easters are fantastic yet exhausting. We’re not exactly the quietest bunch, and we have an opinion or few between us all. Add wine to the mix at dinner times and the noise level is probably equivalent to that of a large aircraft taking off. Ear plugs are recommended!

But we pull off our family events in style (our own style admittedly) and have a great time. The piece d’resistance has to be the annual Easter Egg hunt. It’s been going on a few years and each time new hiding places must be found and rhyming clues written. Thankfully this year I stopped my mum in her tracks as she seemed to be creating the hunt before I arrived. This is not a one woman show, it’s a joint effort – but as I missed one Easter two years ago I’ve had to fight to get back in the organisation of it all! After making a song and dance about being included, I then proceeded to be busy during my first 24 hours in Southport. I found myself trying to devise poems at almost midnight on Saturday as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Things got silly. The Easter Bunny became Sid, I decided he was from outer space and at one point he was threatened with death. My mum and sister vetoed all such suggestions and we ended up with more child friendly rhymes.

Despite this the Easter Egg Hunt went off without a hitch and the girls were made up with the copious amount of chocolate collected. We also went on a lovely family walk over the sand dunes to find the pond we used to go to when I was a kid. The pond is still there (once you’ve been battered and scratched by the overgrown path) but there weren’t any frogspawn or tadpoles in sight. Sad times.

The weekend was also filled with traditional Southport seaside amusement… Morning tea & toasted teacakes, the pier, the beach, sausage and chips from The Sandgrounder (best chippy in town!), a 99 icecream, the hall of mirrors etc… Oh I do like to be beside the seaside!

Easter weekend is a good place to start. Today is a fortnight until Good Friday. Easter weekend means many things – Bank Holidays, seeing family and friends, lots of chocolate. Of course there are also many religious services to attend for those who so wish. But on top of all the regular joys of Easter, two things stand out this year.

Firstly there is Red Dwarf. Oh yes. It’s back. On Dave. Thanks Dave! I look forward to being whisked back to my youth and sitting there with my Dad chuckling away. Red Dwarf was a daddy-daughter ‘thing’. Here’s hoping it’s as funny as it ever was.

Secondly, and more tentatively there is a Doctor Who special. Or at least that’s what we have been lead to believe. However despite it being just over two weeks to the expected due date there seems a lull of information. The BBC website is surprisingly absent of anything related to it. Apart from speculation I can find nothing concrete. Absolute nada. What is going on? If it does turn up let’s just hope it’s better than Christmas, which I have to say was possibly the most disappointing episode so far. I kid not when I tell you I nearly nodded off.

In the weeks following Red Dwarf, and hopefully Doctor Who too, I will be headed back down to my old home of London for a couple of things.

Bank holiday weekend is ‘Hen Weekend’! The first one I have ever attended. I’m sure there will be drunkenness but I can say no more than that right now as the Hen is completely in the dark about what will happen once we get to London!

And then a couple of weeks later I will be back in the capital for early birthday celebrations with my southern contingent of friends. Really need to get planning on that one. However the furthest I have got is deciding to make time to pop to the Science Museum and check out Wallace & Gromit’s new exhibition. Exciting stuff!

So see now I have plenty to look forward too in good health. Meanwhile I must try and find a replacement for Cake Friday as I am stuck here at home. Time to get creative!

Once in Bournemouth, after a quick shower and change, we headed out for Tapas and I started really relaxing (wine and sangria does that for you) and then onto Godskitchen at the BIC.

Now I was slightly concerned that I wouldn’t be able to hack a night of dancing, it had been five years since my last night of this type (House, trance that kind of stuff) and I was not sure I still had the stamina for it. Secondly I had been up since ridiculously early, and I would be expected to still be dancing nearly twenty-four hours since I had last seen a bed! As soon as I got in there the music sorted me out, I felt five years younger! However I was aware that the tiredness might creep in at any point so I decided to swap the alcohol for water, as ending up hunched over a toilet later on in the evening was not the desired outcome of the night.

Somewhere not too long after midnight I started to flail, I was really tired and about to give up when thankfully my positive mental attitude kicked in (it’s good like that). I was determined to get through the tiredness, and that I did. By the time Paul Van Dyk hit the decks I was back on the dancefloor, glowsticks being flung in every direction in full force.

Around 4am I decided that it would probably be most sensible to head back to the hotel, we had to be out of our room by 10am and then I would be spending a couple of days with S’s parents, as it was I was likely to be in a half human state but I’d rather turn up like that then completely zombified. Three of us headed back, and I slept soundly (apart from being woken up to let the other three in an hour and a half later) until 9.45am when I woke up and realised I had slept through my alarm and only had 15 minutes to get out of the room!

Funnily enough that didn’t happen. But we did get out by 10.30am and the hotel manager didn’t mind too much. Before Southampton I had made a request to S that I get at least half an hour on the beach having missed out on the opportunity the day before. So the three of us, S, her friend Jim and I headed down to the beach for a bit of sunshine (and in Jim’s case a chance for a few more minutes of sleep!). It was only my second time in Bournemouth since I had moved away, but the first time I actually felt like a tourist. As we walked down to the beach it looked amazing, whilst we stood above the cliffs of Westbourne I looked at the bay, with the sunshine (and not too many tourists) it was absolutely beautiful. After admiring the view the next touristy thing I did was buy my housemate a present. I was feeling very guilty, as I had promised to do the washing up before I left, and with work and all I hadn’t had time. I knew it was lame but I was hoping that a brightly coloured kids beach windmill thingy and a stick of rock (along with the promise of doing washing up all week) would earn me some forgiveness.

We settled on the beach, with our cans fosters (yes I know it was 11am, but there’s nothing like hair of the dog to cure lack of sleep) and had a good natter whilst Jim slept. We also had a little paddle (the sea was bloody freezing though!) and after 45 minutes decided to head off as I was becoming a not very attractive pink colour. If only I tanned!

On to Southampton, where we were greeted with a BBQ prepared by S’s parents, which was exactly what we needed. Being Easter weekend her parents did Easter egg distribution (they’d even bought one for me, so nice of them!) and then S’s birthday presents. Oh yes, I forgot that bit, the whole reason I had organised to spend this weekend with S was because it was her birthday and in the past I have made a regular habit of managing to miss birthday celebrations of any kind for her. I had bought her the inspired gift of ‘How to Walk in High Heels’… a nod to a slip up she’d had in Piccadilly Circus a few weeks earlier that had resulted in a trip to A&E the following day (and a diagnosis of severely sprained ankle!!!). I also hoped it might educate her a bit in the likes of Manolo Blahnik so that we could have meaningful shoe conversations one day in the future.

Monday was equally as lovely, with some more of S’s family coming for a roast dinner, which was absolutely divine. The only down point was that I couldn’t drink because of the drive home, but I did have a small glass of champagne as it would just have been rude to say no to that! Dinner was finished off with homemade profiteroles… a mountain of them, which I ate far too many of, but they were delicious. I had never considered making profiteroles before (they come out of boxes from supermarkets don’t they?!) but I may try it out myself (after many many gym sessions working off the last lot!)

Eventually I headed back to London, and visited my first service station (well ok, I have been to lots in my time, but I have never been the one driving!). I had forgotten to go to the toilet before I left, but as a result discovered the joys of driving by yourself, you can stop when you want and spend as much time having a cup of tea as you want without anyone moaning that ‘we really should be moving again by now’.

I returned in one piece and immediately did the washing up, so when my housemate got in there was a clean kitchen and silly beach presents. I am pleased to say I have been forgiven (although I don’t think she was in a mood with me about it anyway, I must have just had paranoia from my own guilt!)