Talking trash – my guilty pleasure

I have a guilty secret to confess. I have a bit of an addiction to trashy novels, films and television. Not quite as bad as it could be – I find EastEnders, Hollyoaks and the like just too too depressing – but certainly nothing educational like The Man chooses to watch (not sure I could include his superhero film fetish in the ‘educational’ category, mind, no matter how much he insists it teaches inherent moral truths…).

If I’m kicking back with a book then chances are I’ll pick something from the Chick Lit genre – Katie Fford is a particular favourite – if it’s TV then something along the family comedy drama lines – Gilmore Girls and Gavin & Stacey have both been watched through more than once – and when it comes to films then it’s either Rom Coms or musicals.

Please don’t see this as a reflection on my intelligence. Occasionally I pick up some of the classics – 19thC female authors usually, although I like Hardy also – but mostly what I’m looking for is total escapism. I find it hard to turn y brain off and, whilst I’m sure that soething like meditation would help, I prefer to numb the outside world with the cultural equivalent of bubble gum – tasty, but no substance. Have you got a guilty pleasure?

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