I see you there....

I see you sitting in your car greedily devouring a chocolate bar as if there is no tomorrow. I doubt you are that worried about your frozen groceries melting. Are you on a diet? Or was your shopping experience so traumatic that you need the sugar? Or just another guilty pleasure that couldn't wait?

I see you there smoking through the open window of your BMW. Holding the cigarette as far away as possible like your hoping the closed door of your overpriced car will stop the fumes getting through the open window. Why bother? Are you trying to quit or are you just conscious about the fumes that will surely have clung to your suit when you strut back into the office? Or is this how all the cool kids smoke these days? I must have missed the memo.

Do you see me? I'm the one stuffing sliced chorizo into my mouth. I have plenty at home that I brought back from France with me but m'dearest will know if I eat a whole packet at home. I will eat the whole packet here in this car park before hiding the empty packet under the seat and arrive home with the shopping hoping to brush my teeth before I'm kissed.

That is why I try not to judge you. Every one has their guilty pleasures, their addictions. They may be your weak moments or your lifelong Achilles heel. This is a new thing for me, started in France last week; I hope to be able to quit when I'm back in work.

As I try not to judge you, I see the judgement in your eyes as you look at the girl in the small car shoveling sliced Spanish meat into her mouth like a nervous dog who's stolen your steak.

Hwyl a sbrii