Addicted to ASDA
I went into town on Saturday for some compelling reason which I can't quite remember. My mood was very low, I was feeling sorry for myself and it was affecting me physically. I was shuffling along like a sixty year old. Then I saw this cushion and I bought it.
It was ‘John Rocha at Debenhams’ and cost £40 - Forty quid for a bloody cushion.
This is the point - as soon as I had the cushion in a nice blue carrier bag - I cheered up immediately. The spring returned to my step and I skipped along like a mere 59 year old. Retail therapy eh?
A programme on channel 5 this week reminded me of this incident. It was about *The Girl who was addicted to Asda*.
I watched this because I frequently shop in this rather unassuming supermarket on my way to Tameside.
Amanda was £40,000 in debt. Thank God she wasn't addicted to Harvey Nicks!
Her mum's little terraced house was an overstuffed Aladdin's cave of unwanted stuff all stored in plastic bin bags. Drawers were stuffed with short denim skirts which she'll never wear 'because I don't wear short skirts.'
Amanda felt safe in Asda. Her shopping addiction was both a solace and a curse.
A psychotherapist at Cheadle Royal was going to help.
This is where reality TV is nothing like reality.
This guy took the time and trouble not only to talk with Amanda but also to accompany her to Asda and patiently walk round and round with her as many times as she liked. I don't think a working class girl from Ashton could expect that from the NHS.
Eventually she began to make progress. Good luck to her.
What do you think of the cushion?
I'm thinking of taking it back for a refund.
KAZ
Labels: Asda, Cushion, Retail Therapy
posted by KAZ at 10:56 am
18 Comments:
Cushion needs ironing.
Feeling safe in Asda is a different thing from spending thousands of pounds on cheap clothing. Why didn't that girl try feeling safe at the local gym?
Hope you don't start getting addicted to shopping for John Rocha stuff - it won't go with the DMs.
I videoed the programe -- I've only watched half of it so far -- up to the point where the therapist is about to take her to ASDA and the poor girl seems terrified at the prospect.
Gonna have some lunch now and then I'll probably watch the rest of the programme.
I wouldn't have bothered videoing the prog but for it having a local setting. I certainly couldn't sit through such a prog for the whole hour, but can manage watching it in bits.
This sounds like a great plan! You can get all the spring-in-your-step kicks from the purchasing, then take it back for a refund, then go for another comfort-based purchase at somewhere else....Halfords?
By George what a good idea!
The cushion has the wrinkles of an 80 year old!
Im addicted to Netto's in Halifax.............Beans To Die For.............. (*burp*)
Ah Stitch - yer a hard woman sometimes.
I find the thought of going to the gym more terrifying than playing on the motorway.
Don't worry I'm not into labels - apart from the Docs of course.
Gerald:
I watched it for the same reason.
I don't think the Tameside tourist board would be too pleased.
Murph:
Halford's??
Do they sell sparkly pink leggings and killer platform peep-toes?
Tony:
Netto has been mentioned before here and ever since, I've had people searching for Goblin puddings.
Could have been worse - could have been 'Goblin teas mades'.
I like it. But I'd be afraid guests would sit on it, lean on it, or sleep on it and then the lovely detailing would get all smashed up.
The one [and only] thing I like about America is that they have Walmart. I know that Asda and Walmart are the same company but Walmart is grand! I even managed to get a pair of galoshers there. I bought them for my Dad, knowing his liking for the bloody things. Not until I left the store with my bargain thinking Wow, only in America... did I remember that he was dead.
I am a great fan of retail therapy. Primani, that well known house of couture has extracted several pounds worth in the past.
Unfortunately, Superdrug, with all it's cut price make up is my poison of choice at the moment.
I feel safe in Oxfam shops, they make me look trendy
[Cherry]ride:
Who needs friends when you've got a nice cushion to hug .... carefully.
lilts:
Galoshers - I had a discussion with Dave (see below) recently about those.
I think they are like rubber overshoes whereas some think they are plimsolls.
oops - hope you were joking about your dad.
Roses:
Primani - are you referring to the pleasuredrome of cheapskate retail therapy?
Or is it some chic boutique that I've never heard of.
Dave:
I just knew you were an aficionado of *shabby chic*.
Such style.
There is an article about her [with photo] in today's Tameside Advertiser -- seems this all took place about two years ago.
The layout of Asda seems to have changed since I used to shop there -- the cafe never looked so clean and the fruit & veg was one of the first sections you came to!
It's a nice cushion
But I wouldn't pay £40 for it, John Rocha or no...
I think next time you're feeling a bit miz, you could maybe go get another one. . .
on the other hand, eighty quid for two cushions seems a bit excessive. . .
still got the receipt?
I find charity shops are great places for cheering oneself up in!
I like the cushion but I'd feel obliged to live in a style worthy of its froo-froo if it was in my living room.
40 bucks? Not so bad. Oh but that's Pounds...ooooer...$84 not so likee.
Gerald:
Her favourite was the 'pink and fluffy' section. I feel sorry for the kid who probably prefers jeans and combat jacket.
Anx:
Neither would I.
I must have been having a very bad day.
View:
I once said to a young friend that I wouldn't want to win the lottery as it would change my life.
He replied 'No it wouldn't - you'd still be in your bloody charity shops everyday'.
I thought that was a nice compliment.
Arabella:
'froo - froo' is so not me. I'm a minimalist.
The cushion's life hangs in the balance - I still have that receipt.
I like the cushion but I think it would look better on a sofa or even a bed the floor isn't really bringing out it's best features.
Ziggi:
Me too - I always look better in a reclining position.
Sorry, I forgot to check here. The glamourous orange women at work call it Primani and then they bicker over how little they paid for their latest purchase.
After a bit of clear out this afternoon, I realised that 3/4 of my wardrobe is Primark.
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