In the spirit of all things Easter, how about a tale of Easters past from my Family Stories?
In addition to being an awesome Dad (and latterly Santa Claus lookalike), my Dad held one particularly special qualification when I was a child. He worked at the Cadbury’s Chocolate Factory in Bournville, Birmingham. Oh. Yeaaaahhh.
This is a factory steeped in history, and part of the heritage of not only my family, but of the social history of the UK. Founded almost 200 years ago it has endured wars, rationing, and forged a path during the Industrial Revolution of the 19th Century.
We lived pretty close to Bournville, and could clearly smell the chocolate on a day with a light breeze. It certainly made the corn flakes taste better before school.
To be perfectly honest, every day was a chocaholic’s dream, since being a lifelong employee at a chocolate factory did not come without staff perks (mainly in the form of large bags of misshapen Milk Tray caramels, Crunchie pieces and unwrapped Creme Eggs. What’s not to love?)
Amidst this sugary Shangri-La, Easter Sunday had to work hard to stand out, and there were more than a few forced smiles and ”Oh thanks, chocolate!” s over the years. But Dad never disappointed. The Easter bonus usually looked like this. A mug with an egg. It is now a kind of trophy which represents my chocolatey childhood.
Dad took early retirement from Cadbury’s many years ago. Tuh. Not to worry, when we couldn’t rely on our old Dad any more, there was an Aunty with a Cadbury’s Staff ID card lurking in the shadows…….
What were the Easters of your childhood like?
BTW, not a single person has offered me even a morsel of chocolate to write this post. Bloody shocking. That is how loyal a Cadbury girl and how unresourceful a Blogger I am. More tales of Easter from proper Bloggers, at Tara’s Sticky Fingers Blog…
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