Vanessa’s all-out Easter
Nothing will stop Vanessa Feltz going OTT this Easter, she says – especially after the turbulent year we’ve all just had...
Vanessa Feltz, broadcaster, best agony aunt, fiancée of musician Ben Ofoedu and grandmum extraordinaire, is never one to do anything by halves – and that includes Easter. Here, the 59-year-old opens up about why she goes ‘all out’ for the season of daffodils, Spring lambs – and eggs, eggs and more eggs...
I confess I’m one of those folksy people who, several years ago, forked out for an ‘Easter tree’. It’s white, with lots of accommodating branches and has sparkly lights threaded through its silvery limbs. I adore it.
Frankly, it’s only with great difficulty that I resist turning it into a Valentine’s tree, Barbie tree, Gary Barlow tribute tree and Halloween tree. I have been known to adorn it with all kinds of pretty and personal stuff for my grandchildren’s birthdays. I use it as a back-up Chanukah bush at Christmas. It’s a permanent fixture in my kitchen, and I live for the first green shoots of Spring, so I can usher in the Easter décor as urgently as possible.
I don’t actually wait for the first sighting of a daffodil. As soon as the Yuletide baubles have been tidied away, I feel an irresistible urge to unveil my dazzling array of fluffy chicks, furry rabbits and woolly lambs. OK, it’s only February – so sue me. I’m an unashamed Easter fan and I don’t care how cutesy, sickeningly sentimental or flamboyantly Disneyfied my ornaments are.
After the year we’ve all endured, anything colourful symbolising hope, fertility and the triumph of love gets my vote. I favour bouncing bunnies clutching armfuls of carrots, Mummy and Daddy chickens with batches of babies, and don’t get me started on the eggs. All right, do get me started, but don’t blame me if I can’t stop.
I’m hopelessly devoted to exquisitely fragile glass eggs, delicately enamelled Fabergé-style eggs and cardboard eggs with tissue-paper blossoms lovingly made by my daughters nearly 30 years ago. We’ve had colossal fun ‘ blowing’ real eggs and using food colouring to tint them all the shades of the rainbow.
In the grand old days, when we used to hop on planes and whizz off abroad, I delighted in snapping up Easter eggs from foreign lands. The Danes do a nifty line in Scandi understated minimalist eggs.
The Irish revel in flamboyant, gutsy, characterful eggs and their favourite stores produce glorious pyramidshaped table centres, complete with cascading silk blooms to complement the vista. Cyprus is home to covetable technicoloured eggs and an entire menagerie of Spring-like stuff to match. Once the world opens up again, I can’t wait to add to my treasure trove, in countries I have yet to explore.
I can’t believe it has taken me so long to mention the primary passion of my secular Easter experience. Who could fail to worship a festival with chocolate at its very heart?
Yes, I know I’ve been a famous fat person for what feels like centuries. Yes,
I know I’ve had a highly publicised gastric band (2010), followed by an even more highly publicised gastric bypass (2019). Yes, I know I should be ashamed even to write the word ‘chocolate’, let alone plunge headlong into Creme Eggs, Mini Eggs, Smartie-stuffed eggs, pricey ones gifted to me by elegant friends, and cheap affairs bought in bulk for egg hunting.
You get the picture. I’ve never met a chocolate egg I didn’t want to demolish and I’m not above filching my children’s supply on occasion.
Easter means putting on the Marigolds and cracking on with the Spring cleaning. I’m a dab hand with a feather duster and celebrate the Jewish festival of Passover, which takes place around the same time of year. It requires everyone to scurry about scrubbing all those hardto-get-to places behind the fridge, to make absolutely certain there’s not a shred of chametz/flour around, before we embark on eight flour-free days eating only matzah/ unleavened bread.
There’s something quietly satisfying about turned mattresses and duvets hung out of the window to air. I’m not averse to getting down and dirty when it leaves Feltz Towers minty fresh. Nor do I object to a few additions to my Spring wardrobe. After a year of slobbing about in PJs, I’m determined to treat myself to a couple of floaty, summery dresses and at least one pair of pretty shoes with – perish the thought – a heel!
All of which brings me to the pinnacle of my Easter celebrations: family. Whatever the rules and regulations are, whether we have to be outside or can cuddle up on the sofa, what I care most of all about is spending time with my nearest and dearest. They’ve been too far away forever and I am desperate to gather them together, pop the hot cross buns under the grill, roast the lamb, shake the parboiled potatoes, before roasting them golden and gorgeous, and wallowing in the laughter, gossip and giggles. And, gentle best readers, that’s exactly what I wish for you – a happy and healthy Easter with the people you care about most.
‘The pinnacle of Easter celebrations is family ’
All my love VanessaX