Monday, 1 March 2010
I just thought as I'm still feeling ever so serene I'd 'fess up to some of my guilty pleasures in life.
As I mentioned the other day I won't be discussing how many cashmere jumpers I have, but they are a definate pleasure in life. I'll save my money till I can buy a new one. My collection goes back 20 years and you wouldn't know which of the jumpers I have which was the oldest at all. They are loved and cared for, so they last and last.
You all know my passion for designer bags, and the one I've got currently is my third. Although the second one doesn't really count as I got it at a real knock down price in New York when the exchange rate was in my favour. And now it has been recycled and is being used by Kit's girlfriend.
This particular passion only started four years ago. There was I, out in the big city, Manchester, for the first time since all my ops. I had treated myself to a facial. And was just mooching about before I ran out of strength. When I saw this bag, it was unbelievable. Tan goat skin, squishy, and not so big, but big enough and it had two small metal badges on it declaring it to be Prada. I was instantly in love. But I reasoned I couldn't justify spending money on something so frivolous as a handbag. I argued with myself, telling me that I deserved it after all I'd gone through, no that wouldn't wash look how much it cost. And on and on I went, until that small child who'd gone through so much in the previous months just said she wanted it. And if she had that bag, people would look at that and not know that she only had one tit. I loved that bag with a passion, it did all the things I needed it to, it made me feel good, it carried everything, it wasn't blindingly obviously a designer bag, unless you were in the know.
However all my pleasures are not so expensive, one of them is something I watch on the TV. I rarely admit to this, as it really is a silly programme, but I love America's Next Top Model. I don't know why, I do not find it necessary to watch any of the other countries Top Model. Maybe it's Tyra Banks, maybe cause it's the first, whatever it is, I watch it and don't tell, cause people will just roll there eyes that I'm watching such garbage.
My newest pleasure and one that I have to curtail is coffee flavoured Swiss Roll. Up until today I have bought one a week for easily the last month or so. Today when in the shop that sells them I was strong minded and didn't get one. And I'm really missing the fact there isn't one in the house. It will take me a week to eat it a slice each night for dessert. But today I was being puritanical.... I could however stop by the shop on the way home from work tomorrow mind!
I love coffee with cream in it, but since I mainly drink hot water I am full of missionary zeal about the dangers of drinking coffee. So I allow myself two mugs a day in the morning. They are both weak, with sweeteners and black. And therefore are permissible, in the coffee is bad for me argument, I have with myself. All is well unless there is cream in the house. And how the cream gets off the shelf in the supermarket and into my trolley remains one of life's mysteries in the first place.
But if there is cream, then my biggest mug, with strong coffee and a hint of sweetness and loads of cream is my idea of bliss.
I could go on and on, but you'll just think I'm a self indulgent junkie and that wouldn't do as I'm an upstanding citizen......
Now where did I put that Walnut Whip????? (Chocolate filled with fondant and a walnut on the top, not a sexual deviation!!!!)