The candy store is my guilty pleasure. I go there when I've had a hard day, I know I should run or do something healthy but I don't. As I walk in the door I am greeted by the sweet smell that can only come from having so much artificial flavour and sugar in so few square feet. The counter is a riot of vibrant shades. There are sugar covered fruit jellies, liquorice all-sorts, sour candies and fizzy cola bottles. But my favourite are the chocolate pralines in their purple wrappers. I heap them into a brown paper bag and then add just one or two of everything else. The bag is weighed and as usual I have spent too much, but I don't care a bit. I'm already planning which TV shows to watch while I work my way through it. By bed time it will be empty and crumpled in the garbage.