Books Not Biscuits

I’m not dirt poor, I have shoes and a flushing toilet, but I am a single mother with two and half jobs, and a non-child-maintenance-paying-deadbeat-ex husband.

The cost of living is alarming, food bills are particularly terrifying, and as my hips insist on keep widening, I am embarking on a new self-formulated diet, called Books, Not Biscuits.

I know how to cook healthily and cheaply, sacks of lentils and soup, but I’m generally pushed for time and can’t be bothered. But, if it means my book (mainly second hand, it has to be said) and stationery budget is protected, I’m hoping it will motivate me. I shall take the direct savings from my food budget and put them into a jar, just like those giving up do with cigarette savings, and those with swear jars.

The ultimate goal is more books, and less butt.

There is a weight loss trick where a person writes a number on the back of their hand, of the amount of weight they want to lose that week, which is why you may see people with 1, 2 or 3 on their hands. And why I have ‘Money – Martin Amis’ written on mine.

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Stay tuned for what happens when I try to fit ‘ Journey to the End of the Night –  Louis-Ferdinand Celine’ onto my hand.

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