Those who know me, may feel the need to bring up my desire for a certain red soled shoe and say that could come under the addiction umbrella, but I dispute this.
Though I do go a little weak of knee in the presence of such foot ingenuity, these little beauties have yet to make a significant dent in my credit card and therefore can be filed under 'indulgence' not 'addiction'. There are however two things that could, sort of possibly be described as my addiction. Those are TV and Cheese.
But aren't I being too hard on myself, those are just normal comforts aren't they? I mean the television is there for me when I come home from work, just ½ hr to relax me, or if I’ve been out all evening, whatever time I come in I automatically reach for the remote, just to unwind. If I’ve had a bad day, flicking channels takes the edge off (everyone knows that) and if I’ve had a good day it’s my treat. A reward I’ve earned, so that’s not really an addiction is it?
Cheese, Well honestly they must put something in it to make it taste like that so surely I can't be held responsible if I tried (and failed) to go a day without eating any (those shakey hands and cold sweats that turn up around tea time are a bitch aren't they?)
Though, now I'm thinking about it, I do recall on more than one occasion (obviously many years ago) not being able to sleep until I had reached into the fridge, taken a bite out of a hunk of cheddar and then wrapped it up again. But everyone does weird and inexcusable things in their youth don’t they?
It’s not like it's a one size fits all kind of product, there are so many lovely types of cheese out there. Creamy soft goats cheese, tangy stilton and the exotic Berthaut's Epoisses which may smell like week old feet that have been trampling through the fens but tastes like gooey heaven. Really you can’t help but admire something that goes so far to make itself available to us in such an array of forms, hard, soft, sliced, spray even string!
No, to say I’m an addict would be too harsh a description, I’m more a Connoisseur. I even know that you’re not meant to cling film it tightly or keep it in the fridge, you’re supposed to wrap it in brown paper and leave on the windowsill (or something).
But really, if I wanted to stop the watching and the eating, I could.
If I wanted to.
I just don’t want to s’all.
I can hear you judging me you know...