I developed an addiction to Bbq Pringles last year. I’d long lived by the very reasonable, moderate level of never having more than half a tube a week, but during a phase of weakness I allowed that frequency to creep up. After a period of guilt I decided to change my mindset: there was no shame in consuming half a tube - or even 3/4 tube - of comfort support Pringles every evening (there was one especially rough night when I overdosed with an entire tube, but I’ve been more careful since then). Once or twice, as emergency measures, I went so far as to consumed half a tube in the daytime. My supplier was Morrisons and I was religiously careful about value for money, refusing to pay more than £1.85 a tube. Sales variances meant that I was always in a game of cat and mouse, stocking up when prices were low (£1.25 made me giddy) so that I could turn my nose up at full price. But then the worst happened: I misjudged, running dangerously low; then Morrisons ran out of stock. Rock bottom was being so desperate for my next hit that I resorted to the corner shop, where they cost a whooping £3 each. It took three to get me through until my regular supplier came good.
Since then I’ve managed to drastically reduce my intake, partly due to getting a bit sick of them (after about a year and a half) and partly thanks to reaching the end of the squillion series of Grey’s Anatomy, the viewing of which was interwoven with shooting up. I’ve spent the last few weeks watching Game of Thrones with my eldest, via a subtitle free medium that prevents eating without drowning out all dialogue. I’ve only pringled about 4 times in the last two weeks; 3 of those were ready salted! Including last night when I only had a handful. I think I’m finally clean!
I’ve donated £9 to encourage your efforts, Rich, in memorial of that £9 corner shop hit.
Not that I mean to imply your relationship with soleros is remotely unhealthy, of course: they are clearly a source of joy to you. I wonder, though, if having just one a week (after nolero) might enhance your pleasure of that one? Looking forward with eager anticipation, every bite could be gloriously, mindfully treasured. I lived in a Buddhist monastery for 15mths in my 20s and learnt there how restraint maximises pleasure (at that time a strawberry iced ring doughnut, once a week, was my source of sublime indulgence. Not that there wasn’t loads of cake on hand generally, mind, but all of that was always part of the daily meal, whereas my doughnut was a secret dawn delight).
You should recreate the Salmond photo but with you looking sad (and not at all horny) that someone else is eating the Solero, to promote your sacrifice.
Possibly replace the young woman with an okapi. Except then you'd definitely be horny. I didn't think this through clearly.
I developed an addiction to Bbq Pringles last year. I’d long lived by the very reasonable, moderate level of never having more than half a tube a week, but during a phase of weakness I allowed that frequency to creep up. After a period of guilt I decided to change my mindset: there was no shame in consuming half a tube - or even 3/4 tube - of comfort support Pringles every evening (there was one especially rough night when I overdosed with an entire tube, but I’ve been more careful since then). Once or twice, as emergency measures, I went so far as to consumed half a tube in the daytime. My supplier was Morrisons and I was religiously careful about value for money, refusing to pay more than £1.85 a tube. Sales variances meant that I was always in a game of cat and mouse, stocking up when prices were low (£1.25 made me giddy) so that I could turn my nose up at full price. But then the worst happened: I misjudged, running dangerously low; then Morrisons ran out of stock. Rock bottom was being so desperate for my next hit that I resorted to the corner shop, where they cost a whooping £3 each. It took three to get me through until my regular supplier came good.
Since then I’ve managed to drastically reduce my intake, partly due to getting a bit sick of them (after about a year and a half) and partly thanks to reaching the end of the squillion series of Grey’s Anatomy, the viewing of which was interwoven with shooting up. I’ve spent the last few weeks watching Game of Thrones with my eldest, via a subtitle free medium that prevents eating without drowning out all dialogue. I’ve only pringled about 4 times in the last two weeks; 3 of those were ready salted! Including last night when I only had a handful. I think I’m finally clean!
I’ve donated £9 to encourage your efforts, Rich, in memorial of that £9 corner shop hit.
Not that I mean to imply your relationship with soleros is remotely unhealthy, of course: they are clearly a source of joy to you. I wonder, though, if having just one a week (after nolero) might enhance your pleasure of that one? Looking forward with eager anticipation, every bite could be gloriously, mindfully treasured. I lived in a Buddhist monastery for 15mths in my 20s and learnt there how restraint maximises pleasure (at that time a strawberry iced ring doughnut, once a week, was my source of sublime indulgence. Not that there wasn’t loads of cake on hand generally, mind, but all of that was always part of the daily meal, whereas my doughnut was a secret dawn delight).
You should recreate the Salmond photo but with you looking sad (and not at all horny) that someone else is eating the Solero, to promote your sacrifice.
Possibly replace the young woman with an okapi. Except then you'd definitely be horny. I didn't think this through clearly.
Or recreate it with a puppet
Practical.
You should have your final Solero (before March 1st) on-stage at the end of your show in Bishop's Stortford
Well done! I made a small donation. Unfortunately I'm not able to give more but hope if everyone makes a small gift it will add up!
Great idea!