How do you eat yours?

Marek's not a big fan of chocolate, something that is obviously as crazy as saying you are not a big fan of breathing. Anyway, I'm all about tolerance, so if he wants to strike out and say chocolate is not his thing, then who am I to call him a freakish specimen of humankind?

I had to get him to try Cadbury's creme eggs though, which I lovingly brought back from England a few weeks ago and saved throughout that tragic chocolate-free period of misery and hunger, otherwise known as lent.

I unwrapped one and offered it to him. 'You first,' he said, eyeing it with distrust. I took a bite of the thick chocolate, feeling it collapse into the gooey sugary centre. I showed Marek the white and yellow middle, and pointed out how clever it was, just like a real egg. He looked at me as if I were a nutter. 'What's it made of?' he asked. 'Sugar' I said, Marek's a big fan of sugar. 'Try it!' I pushed, handing it over.

He took a tentative small bite, then his face lit up with surprise. 'It's good.' he confirmed, taking another, bigger bite. He polished it off, and gave me a look that said 'you're not such a nutter after all.'

I knew he wasn't a lost cause.