Alan Dee: We can get through this together as long as nobody eggs her on

These are tense times in the Dee household, let me tell you.

It’s never easy living with someone who is battling to overcome their demons, and it doesn’t much matter where that particular demon lurks.

I should count my blessings that Mrs Dee, an estimable woman in many ways, is not in thrall to any of the self-destructive addictions which bedevil modern life.

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She’s never smoked, has never been tempted by any sort of illicit substance or even doctor-approved happy pill, she’ll quaff a dry white wine with the best of them but has never been moved to secrete bottles of vodka about the house a la Lost Weekend.

Nor has she ever been lured in by the temptations of 21st century consumerism – handbags too small to contain anything meaningful, high-heeled shoes designed to cripple after five minutes and other high fashion tosh leave her cold.

But everyone has their Achilles heel, and it is my duty to stand by her as she battles to put her particular penchant behind her.

For us, it’s not one day at a time but one year at a time.

And with strength, determination and support from those who care about her, 2014 is going to be the year in which she is Easter egg free.

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Loyal readers may recall that I have grumbled in the past that the other half, a generous woman to a fault, has over many years made it her business to provide Easter eggs for all her young nieces and nephews, sundry other relations, the children of her pals and pretty much everyone she ever worked with – the list kept on getting longer, even though many of these kids had now reached adulthood and some even had offspring of their own.

We have the same problem with selection boxes come Christmas time, but in recent years she has come to realise that you have to draw the line somewhere.

The problem is that, as well as being Lady Bountiful, she also loves a bargain.

So while we have in the past made a solemn undertaking that the Easter egg extravaganza should be brought to an end, once the big supermarkets kick in with a seasonal price war on foil-covered chocolate she’s as helpless as a junkie offered free samples on a street corner.

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Her mouth goes dry, her fingers start to twitch, and she caves – which usually leads to repeated trips through the checkouts, as these deals are often restricted to half a dozen per customer and her list is much, much longer than that.

So far she has been strong, and I have been careful not to place temptation in her way.

But with Easter so late this year, it doesn’t make it easy.

Any day I could return to Dee Towers to find her shamed and surrounded by chocolate and cardboard.

It’s not easy to break this cycle, but together we will crack it,

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