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In which I eat a shit load of Easter eggs and fail miserably at Easter hunts; I prove why I am not to be trusted in charge of a hacksaw; we discuss whether folding your socks will bring joy to your life; the synchronisation of periods utterly mystifies me; apparently Prince Philip is dead, which you would be unlikely to know about given how silent all news outlets have remained on the subject; we muse upon the ways in which one should absolutely not break the news of the death of a loved one; Jamie and I get very confused over holes in the wall; I revert to being a stroppy teenager; and I get completely livid about the demise of the Terry's Chocolate Orange core. "They weren't like this in the good old days!"