Six times my magazine obsession went a bit too far
I’ve always been into magazines, and like most people they provide a nice piece of escapism from time to time. But I thought it would be funny to write a list of situations when it’s been clear that I have a bit of an…erm…addiction, shall we say:
- Clearly overspending: At Munich Airport earlier this year a colleague was horrified that I spent almost €40 on three UK magazines which I could have just picked up a few hours later in England. I thought it was obvious that I clearly had no other option as I could not possibly have a magazine-free flight.
- Having weird magazine displays: Last year I thought it would be cool to lay out all my favourite magazines on the bottom rung of my shoe rack. My friend Polly came over and said “Mate, it’s like a dentist’s waiting room in here!” Not the best look for one’s boudoir.
- Filling five bin bags easily every couple of months: Most normal people do not need to have a “magazine spring clean” every few months. It gets a bit out of hand if I don’t so I have to chuck out bin bags of old newspaper supplements that live under my bed. I find it quite hard parting with old mags because you never know when you might want to re-read them or find a bit of inspiration. Warning: stuffing bin bags full of clothes is manageable, but go easy when filling up – magazines are bloody HEAVY.
- Stealing from my babysitter: When I was 10 years old, I stole “Just 17” from my teenage babysitter, which was that magazine that was ONLY meant for seventeen (and above) year olds. Obviously, as it was forbidden, I had an urge to read it, so I hid it in the bathroom so I could read it in there, in secret. I read all the sex pages and freaked myself so much that I sheepishly gave it back to her and said I wouldn’t ever do it again.
- Crying publicly: When I was a student, an old friend at the Wessex Scene (the student newspaper in Southampton) said I could write something for the paper on the death of Michael Jackson. I spent a week writing an article for it, putting my heart, soul and tears into it – but then she ‘accidentally forgot’ to include it in the issue – I don’t think I ever spoke to her again. And cried drunkenly that night in front of everyone in the uni common room.
- Taking people’s leftovers: When I used to work at a PR firm in Soho, obviously the office was FULL of magazines, all dated and organised alphabetically. When the bin men would come to take them away at the end of the week, I would sneak in and ask them if I could take a copy of each home with me. They would look at me like I was asking if I could take food leftovers from the bin – I just wanted to give the magazines a good home!
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