Guilty pleasures. What’s yours? Nothing kinky or perverse (OK, then, just this once), just simple guilty pleasures that you would be ashamed to admit to even though they are really nothing to be ashamed of. I am sat in the office looking out of the window, as I do, sun is shining down out of a clear blue sky and on the radio is “Me and you and a dog named Boo” by a band called Lobo (I think). And at this particular moment, as I sing along, all is well with the world, I am at peace. President Obama and the BP saga, the “Bloody Sunday” report etc may as well belong to another universe. I have many of these “pleasures”, all the sort of thing that you wouldn't want to admit in public. I'm far too old to worry about what people think of me now. And they will all transport me to a different place. Sometimes they may transport me, mentally at least, to another place, sometimes to another time. On our way to a pub quiz a few weeks back, one of our friends had a perfume on that took me back years. I couldn’t quite grasp the memory that it evoked, every time I tried to grab it it would flutter just out of reach. Lincoln biscuits and malted milk biscuits take me to my childhood when I would stay with my grandmother in Nottingham Sometimes these pleasures transport me nowhere, but are just pleasures. Tinned hotdog sausages, Big Macs, the smell of hawthorn blossom. To be honest, I should have probably kept quiet about the tinned hotdog sausages, people will now think that I’m weird.