***The Brit would like to apologise for the delay to the service. This was due to a technical error that has now been rectified.***
I shouldn't lie; there was no technical error. In fact, the only reason this post is late is because I've been enjoying myself a little bit too much since the end of January. I suppose that makes the theme of this post even more apt, as for the first time in six weeks (but seven, yes seven, weekends) I have a small amount of money with which to spoil myself rotten.
Like Allison, I include drinking and eating out in the list of activities that make me happy. Unlike Allison, I probably do them too much. It sounds terribly stereotypical, but a nice, cold pint in a nice, warm pub makes me happier than most other things. I'm not sure if it's a sign that I'm growing old that I look forward to pub nights more than clubbing. I find clubs increasingly frustrating, and yearn for a comfy chair in a corner of an old-fashioned boozer instead.
Eating out turned into an addiction for a while; I've since toned it down so that I only do it when I really have something to celebrate, or if I really need cheering up. There's something wonderful about sitting in a restaurant chatting over a drink while your food magically prepares itself in another room without you having to lift a finger. That sounded offensive to the people that cook the food, didn't it? I didn't mean that - I envy the culinary skills of professional chefs. It's just that eating out is even more fun if you imagine the kitchen to be like that scene in Beauty and the Beast when all the cutlery starts singing in a French accent. You definitely don't get that when you cook for yourself.
I am also guilty of spending a large amount of money on a season ticket for the football team I support. While sitting for an hour and a half in the cold watching a ball kicked around a pitch may not be everybody's idea of fun, for me it's a treat. I especially like mid-week evening games; the walk from the tube station to the stadium takes you through a beautiful park right on the banks of the Thames. The walk is probably about a mile long, and the anticipation and suspense build with each step. Admittedly, we don't always win and on these occasions following Fulham feels like less of a treat. But when we win (as we did yesterday, by the way) it leaves me feeling ever so satisfied.
Other than that, my other vices include buying shoes (as admitted in the comments on Allison's post), books (because I refuse to move with the times and invest in an e-reader) and scarves, of which I have several.
You know what? It's been nice writing about the things I like. While they may not be absolutely necessary, I'm not sure I'd want to live without them. It would feel like January every month if I did that. *shudders at the thought*
Over to you, Lauren!