Best thing about Easter Sunday: having a huuuuuge-ass brunch, and ending it with a chocolate egg dipped in hot coffee. (Shut up, I'm weird about how I eat my chocolate.) I love my mum for bringing over proper Belgian easter eggs for me. (On the plane. In checked-in luggage And they somehow survived. Wow.)
Though I do feel a bit homesick and lonely now, because normally said brunch would be at my parents. Sigh.
(Best thing about living in the UK, though? The ability to buy painkillers on a Sunday. Fuckin' ow.)
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