Red Tulip is the flavour of Easter. It is what they threw the crowd at the Easter Show when I was a child. The Show was smaller and crowded and terrifically exciting. We would go and watch the horses and then scurry around buying show bags for other people - and, of course, ourselves. Red Tulip is also the maker of my favourite childhood egg. How pleased I was when the Easter Bunny got it right and brought me the horseshoe eggs.
Easters and Christmases were always extended by visiting family. One might have started at home but there was always a trip up the coast and a couple of sets of cousins to see. Every year at nan's place we had an Easter egg hunt that ranged over the enormous backyard and into the lower reaches of the wall that grandfather built. The older cousins cheated and spied as nan hid the eggs. I was hopeless at finding them but always ended up with some.
The Easter Bunny used to visit us at school too - aided by Mrs H., talcum powder, and her enormous fake bunny foot. So many strange Easter rituals. A parade and tiny craft chicks and all kinds of eggs and little paper baskets. All these things worked up for the entertainment of children and their parents.