Nice Easter. Shame about the boat race.

I'm slowly relaxing into an extra long Easter break - ten days of it! The husband has lots of annual leave to use up and we're both exhausted from working too hard, so we've combined my birthday and Easter into one long spring staycation. And solemnly sworn not to fall into the DIY trap where we decide to fix one small thing and then a week later return to work exhausted, for a break, after completely redoing half the house.

So today, fully relaxed at last, we took a little trip up to the amazing chocolatier up the road to buy each other Easter eggs. I'm afraid my inner eight-year-old took over when she saw a bigger than usual Lindt bunny, and it was indulgently bought for me. The Husband opted for the same, and we bought a family group to bring down to his parents tomorrow as well as a few extras to have around in case of visitors. (Or maybe I'll have to eat them).

The Husband arranged them beautifully on a shelf to admire. But I have to admit I don't like the look on that rabbit's face. Who does he think is going to get eaten - him or me?

We also made hot cross buns to my mother-in-law's recipe, but had to improvise slightly as every scrap of mixed peel in Morningside had already been bought. I'm trying not to be too intimidated by living in a suburb where making one's own hot cross buns is evidently not going the extra mile but just the done thing. The results were yum, but unphotogenic and not quite right - I'll have to try again next year. However, the peel did look fantastic up against the green chopping board.

For the first time in our four-year (well, nearly, three boat races) relationship, I also persuaded my husband to watch the boat race with me. Watching it reminds me less of being at university then watching it on TV at my grandparents' house. Always, always shouting for Oxford, long before I even dreamt of applying. (Not long before the first "If you work hard you might end up here one day" tour, though).

Edinburgh is my home, and I love it and the friends I have here. But not one of them gives two hoots about the boat race, and a few are likely to go off on rants about class and the English at the very mention of it. The Husband is a Geordie, second-generation Bloody Good Redbrick University, and it had never occurred to him to care about it. All of this can make me feel slightly isolated, rather far away from home.

When I suggested watching the boat race I was met with slight indifference, until I suggested it rather harder and The Husband realised that it was one of those odd things that mattered to me - like having the option of going to church on Christmas day (he now suggests church on religious holidays with the polite and faintly mystified tones of an anthropologist indulging a strange tribe's quaint rituals). Then he was very sweet, and even suggested buying Pimms - something his North Eastern taste buds had never encountered until he met me.

He also got rather into it, obviously cheering for Oxford because yelling for the Tabs would be guaranteed to get him sent to the spare room for a few days.

So now, alongside the sweetness of Pimms, I've introduced The Husband to the bitter taste of defeat in the boat race. I'll make a Southerner of him yet.