Women often tell me that "Variety is the spice of life".
Often when they mention this it is met by a coupon or advertisement offering something new and exciting that costs big bucks.
I can remember one day my girlfriend Ella came to meet me one day with a great big smile.
Now I love big gorgeous smiles, but I knew there was something more sinister behind this smile than my previous encounters.
And right I was.
Ella had found a book.
Nothing dangerous about that of course, except what the book contained: discount vouchers of every conceivable restaurant and cafe known to man!
"Now we can try a whole heap of places," she squeaked.
Now all I have to do is rob a bank.
Delighted that Ella had just found the eighth wonder of the world she fanned through it reading out all the menus and places as well as which restaurants were the best according to some food critic who had the taste buds of a blocked-nose hippo!
I needed to sit down.
By the look on my face you would have thought that someone had just died. I think someone just did: my bank manager.
So, as the weeks progressed and we tried new places she was always quick to quip the same proverb I opened this post with:
Variety is the spice of life
What I've always wondered is why on earth does it need to be something physical... why not something mental??
I've never condoned book burning, but the urge was very strong whenever that book presented itself.
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