Today I am ... rolling with eggcentrics on Primrose Hill

I have spent a very merry Easter with two lovely ladies, decorating eggs and rolling them down Primrose Hill.

We began the morning by freestyling with acrylic paint, feathers, cocktail umbrellas and glitter, using our extensive collection of shot glasses as egg stands. The results?

A chick that unwittingly resembled Boris Johnson. Two owls. A drag queen parrot. Kate Middleton. Kanye West with a white beard. The Queen. And a happy green egg in a Chinese hat.

Once we'd made our way to North London, we carried our team of little eggs to the top of Primrose Hill for the 7th Annual Lost & Found Egg Roll, where we thought we'd fallen down a rabbit hole into a surreal egg-themed Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

We were greeted by an array of whimsical characters, who included a German man in a glittery jockstrap and a fox tail who we shall call Bruno.

Armed with a loudpeaker, Bruno warmed up the crowd shouting, 'When I say egg, you say egg. Egg... EGG! Egg... EGG!'

Bruno then lined us all up to present our eggs for the best dressed competition. It was at this moment we realised our sweet little motley crew of eggs were somewhat out of their depth.

Boris Johnson the Chick and our collection of owls didn't stand a chance next to Egg Zeppelin, Egglebert Dunkabit, and The Eggs Factor (an elaborate construction, complete with judges, a stage and audience).

To judge the competition, Bruno accosted a bald passer-by.  'He looks like an egg! We shall call him Ouef!' declared Bruno.

Poor Ouef didn't know quite what he'd walked into, but he gamely walked up and down the line and eventually settled on a winner - the Damien Hirst Egg, suspended in a vat of water.

It was nearly time for the egg roll. A cider swigging park-dweller introduced himself as Dave and joined in the fun, offering himself as a human finish line for the race.

Sadly we had to leave before the official egg roll actually started, so we initiated our own unofficial 'fringe' egg roll down the other side of the hill before taking our leave (less rolling, more chucking). As we walked back down the hill into the real world, we could still hear people chanting 'EGG! EGG! EGG!' in the distance.

By the end of the lovely afternoon, it's fair to say the word egg had lost all meaning.