Camden retailers talk GMO vs Organic

Camden retailers have this week revealed their thoughts on the GMO vs organic crops argument.

The topic came to light recently when the British Royal family feuded over the matter. Prince Charles, who himself owns an organic food brand, came to loggerheads with his sister Princess Anne, who said she saw no issue with genetically modified crops.

We asked Camden retailers whether they, or their customers noticed a difference between GMO or organic crops. To see what they said, watch the video linked here.

Although the retailers differed on whether they believed the organic food market was a sustainable or a ‘fad’ market, they agreed on that it is the customer’s consciousness which affects buying patterns, and not what food is readily available to them.

Mr Baba, who owns an independent store in Chalton Street, Somers Town, said: “Our customers don’t notice a difference, but if customers want organic food they’ll go and look for it online or go to certain stores for it.

“We’ve never had complaints from customers that we don’t stock organic products.”

Studies carried out by GMO crop provider Monsanto have revealed that half of the UK population do not approve of GMO crops, despite most of the products on the market. For a break down of the stats, view our graph.


Camden food and drink market, which specialises in organic products. (Photo credit: Eleanor Pringle)


I am excited and I’m not entirely sure what about

It’s the first of November. And that can only mean one thing. CHRISTMAS! Obviously everyone else was thinking this. November is officially one of the “miserable” months. By which I mean everything looks permanently grey because the sky’s always clouded over and everyone’s tan has fully faded now so we’ve all got that serotonin-lacking pallor about us. So we have grey streets and grey skies and grey people. It’s not even like we get that much snow here, and even then the weather can’t commit fully enough to snowing, so it just gives us a bit of sludge that goes – surprise surprise, – grey.

However, the miserable months are counteracted. And the only way we do that is to become excessively excited about Christmas. This comes very naturally to me. You give me a tonne of food and the promise of some bubble wrap flying about and I’m on board. Chuck Michael Buble into that mix and we’ve got ourselves two months of guaranteed excitement. The miserable months are conquered by Christmas.

The other great thing about winter is I feel like you can wear more slubby clothes and it be more accepted in public. If in mid-November I need to pop to the shop in a bobble-hat, tracksuit bottom and wellies (they’re by the front door) this is completely normal. The shop assistant may even compliment me on said bobble hat; she’s done it before. If I did that in September, which can be equally as cold, I would receive headshakes and comments would probably be made about “students wearing the only clean clothes they have left.” Well the joke’s on them in their fine-gauge sweater, because I was warm, and two months later they’re wearing the same thing.

Oh and last but not least. Gift sets. There is nothing in this world more full of joy than a gift set. I sound like I’m being sarcastic but I am so serious. They contain all of the random things you would never buy for yourself for fear of being excessive or wasting money. For example bath salts. I have never actively wanted a salty bath, but once I got given bath salts I’ve never looked back. And bars of soap. I’m 20, I’d never think “you know what I really need is a bar of soap scented like a satsuma zest,” and I don’t think they’re readily available either. But come Christmas hopefully I’ll find myself with a gift set that contains a bar of that hygienic fruity glory. And then I will put it on my sink at uni and it will make a huge mess, but who really cares because it makes washing your hands such a fun activity.

I have no idea how I’ve written an entire blog post on bad weather and gift boxes. I am not sponsored by Boots. But I wish I was. I could have a bar of soap for each hand. And even one for each foot. But it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live (yes, that was a Harry Potter quote), so I must live, by which I mean, sleep. So sleep well Mum!

How did third year come about?

Right, so I may have started my final year… Don’t ask me how it happened, and sorry Mum (and anyone else who cares) for not blogging in such a long time. Updates! So this year I’m living in an actually nice house, we have fully functioning showers and we even have a table where we can eat dinner. Aren’t we the luckiest? The jewel in the crown is… the dishwasher. I would have potentially wasted so much time cleaning up last year – I say potentially, because we cleaned up about half as much as we should’ve done – and this year all that lost time has been regained for me in one average-sized electrical box of water and wonder.

Uni wise I’m writing a dissertation. Don’t ask me why I thought that was a good idea, it seemed like a right of passage that I had to try. It’s going okay, I’ve currently got two narrative threads going of a mother and daughter. The Mum’s a drunk (don’t worry Mum, none of this is written from personal experience) and the daughter just sort of wanders around before knocking herself out on the dining room table. Obviously there’s a lot more to it than that but that’s the one sentence version. In other news, I have a job! And it’s brilliant. I’m looking after a 9 year-old boy and he’s great. He’s really smart and loves tacos. He is also very stubborn at times and will only do his times tables if we listen to rap music whilst I make up new words for our secret language. Since I’m writing from the perspective of a 9 year-old in my dissertation it’s actually very useful to be around one three days a week.

Oh! And I started doing dance again. Jazz specifically. It’s not very jazzy, it’s just very dance-y. We go to competitions as well because I made the squad, which I find a weird concept, “dancing competitively.” It sounds like there’s just a room full of people having a dance off. That would be pretty fun actually; perhaps I should look into it.

Other than that I’m just trying to sort the rest of my life out. It’s kind of weird thinking about it now that in seven months I’m going to be chucked into a weird limbo where I have to make all my own decisions. Apparently that decision is going to be journalism, I’ve worked out that that’s what I really want to do, its just getting there now. Anyway! I have to go and make a spreadsheed to organise the chaos that are my career plans. Wish me luck…

Students are like cats

Okay that sounds like a weird title. I’m not saying we, (students), pee in litter trays or spend our time lying in the comfiest places we can find, and roaming the streets at night. Well we do a few of those things, but the metaphor I’m going for is that if my blog was representative of my life then I’m dead on the internet quite frequently, and for long periods of time. Like this. So, students are like cats because I just come back to life and have another go.

Anyway, what happened? Christmas happened! Which is my most favourite thing in the world, apart from the fact Mum broke her wrist. Shout out to Mum- hope it’s feeling better. Christmas actually ended up becoming a bit of a test because my little sister and I had so much to do, but hey it kept us busy.

And now I’m back at uni, and for some reason I feel like I’m about to have a crisis. I don’t know what it is, I just get the feeling that something’s going to go wrong again and I’m going to have to do another rejig of everything. I could go all philosophical with it and think I got over the last speed bump, maybe it’s time for another to test me, but it’s just not a nice feeling. Mum if you’re reading this- don’t worry, it’s not a life crisis where I start doing drugs or getting into a weird cult or something.

Aside from the feelings of impeding doom everything’s good, I still really love my course. Of course I love my course. The modules I’m doing this semester is Austen and the Brontes (which is lovely as I just like that sort of thing) Shakespeare, bleurgh, but inevitable, and Scriptwriting (yaaaaaay!). Scriptwriting is my favourite so far, creative writing modules usually are. I’ve got this brilliantly eccentric tutor who says stuff like “I’m not going to write on that white board because it doesn’t look very friendly” and “channel your characters, don’t write them.” It’s one of those situations where I sort of understand what she means, but on the other hand have no idea what the hell is going on.

So that’s life at the moment: bewildering tutors and absolute panic about my life for some unknown reason. I feel like a blog in a fortnight or two is just going to be titled “Life Crisis” and you’re all going to think to yourselves oh bloody hell she was right, what’s happened? Or maybe you won’t, one reason could be because it doesn’t happen, the other could be that no one cares about whether or not I end up living in a trolley or such like.

Final thing- Mum, I miss you.

Freud is a weirdo

Right well year two blogging is definitely not off to a flying start. Two out of three days isn’t a bad attempt so far is it? Well it’s not my best effort but no one’s perfect. Anyway! Today has been a very productive day, I’ve done loads of work and I feel like a machine. I also went to play netball. Hey look at me, I play sports and do work. Super Pringle.

Today will be a bit of a rumble. Not a rant, because I don’t dislike the topic, a rumble because it confuses me. The rumble is about Freud, which is the theorist I’m studying this week if you remember from Sunday’s blog. Some of Freud’s ideas (not even over simplified or twisted to make it sound funny): children inherently attach desire to their mothers and want to kill their fathers for being the object of their mother’s desires. I mean… what?! Number two: Most of our desires, we won’t admit to in our unconscious mind. But if we don’t know about them they’re not really desires are they? That’s like saying ‘oh I really want a chocolate bar’ without knowing what a chocolate bar is.

So I’m a bit sceptical about Freud, as you may be able to tell, but it got me thinking about what I know I absolutely want. And I started trying to think of a list but the only thing I could come up with was another dog. I may have a whole host of unconscious things I want, but it’s be really helpful if the universe could let me in on the secret about what that is. Anyway I was thinking about things I’m really interested in and religion keeps cropping up. My housemate is a Sikh and for some reason I’m obsessed with learning about it. And then I know someone who’s Hindu and it’s just so cool.

I’ve been reading up about religion at any rate and I think Buddhism is the most Pringle-ish one because it’s all about harmony and stuff. The only thing is I’m not sure how strict I need to be with it, because apparently Buddhism says you shouldn’t drink and such like, and that’s an aspect of teenage-ness that I enjoy without going crazy. I reckon I might go to a Buddhist centre and try and learn a bit more about it. I’ll keep you updated!

Guess who’s back

Okay so second year blogging has got off to a bit of a late start… But I’m back! And I’m going to be attempting to blog every day once again. I didn’t blog over summer because I was at home, and as the main purpose of this blog is to keep my mum up-to-date, why would I blog? If you do just like reading this for fun however, I’m really sorry if I have disappointed you. That is probably not the case for anyone, and as per usual I’m sounding really big headed because no one is particularly emotionally invested in this blog.

HOWEVER! Life updates: second year is great, I am living in a house that has a partially functioning boiler and I have electricity bills and receive post. I’m like a semi-adult. My modules this year are also really bloody good. I study Critical Theory, so theorist rants are bound to ensue (you remember the Gissing deluges, right?) this week we’re reading Freud so I think that should be really interesting. The first sentence basically sets out that creative writers have “strange personalities” and being in that category myself, I feel like I’ll be going in for group therapy in my seminar on Tuesday.

I’m also doing journalism- WAHEY GUESS WHO WANTS TO BE A JOURNALIST. Me! Or an editor, I feel like an axe man when I’m editing, just chopping up everyone’s hard work. I’m not an awful person, I promise. Anyway, so I really like journalism and I think I might be quite good at it, but we’ll see. Seriously, I think I might be a step closer to working out what I’m going in my life. The final module this term is prose writing, which is brilliant as ever. Everyone else in my seminar is a friggin amazing writer, and I feel like a mushroom accidentally growing in the corner when I’m in the room with them but hey, it’s a privilege.

Apologies also to those any readers that are not interested in the ramblings of single young women. The escapades of Single Pringle are going… amusingly? Honestly, in a break in conversation the other night, I resorted to: “so… what’s your middle name?” Hopefully this year I’ll work out a bit more than where I’m off to at the end of my degree. But seriously, for any guys out there reading… A manual. Please. 

So it’s all going on at the moment. I think though last year was an tale-and-a-half, at this rate second year is going to be even more eventful, but this time round it doesn’t worry me at all. Wish me luck! I’ll write again tomorrow- night!

New Years Resolutions

I promise I’m not a complete idiot. I am aware that it’s not December the 31st, and that at midnight I’m not going to be sitting on my sofa drinking a glass of champagne with my Mum, and laughing at my sister trying to drink hers but she can’t, because if she’s really honest with herself, she’s just not chic enough. That was a lie, my sister is actually very chic, she just has a limited palette. Anyway enough about my sister.

My New Years Resolutions are for the next academic year, and as the whole landscape of my life changes when I go back to uni, it’s a better time to make resolutions than halfway through the year when I’ve already made my mistakes. SO. I’m going to write out my resolutions, and hopefully in the blogs I’ll be writing from September onwards, I’ll be sticking to those.

Resolution number one: Return of the mega-geek. When I was studying for my A-levels I was a super geek. Not like one of those cutesy ones you see on twitter gifs wearing a big pair of glasses and a batman top and tiny shorts, no. I was the bobble-hat wearing, frizzy haired nerd that hadn’t had time to put any make up on that morning because she’d been up reading too long last night. Now this year I was late to bed because I’d been in a club till 3 in the morning… at the earliest. And to be honest I just haven’t got the stamina. Also, my feet sort of look like they’ve melted from wearing heels all the time.

Resolution number two: CHICKPEAS. Yeah, seriously, chickpeas. I forgot how much I liked them and ever since I’ve become weirdly obsessed with vegetarian cooking. From me that sounds like the worst thing ever, bacon is one of my favourite foods, and sausages are like Mecca to me, but I’ve been eating masalas and bean salads and they’re seriously good- tasting, and for you.

Resolution number three: No more ranting. Not in general, this is boy-specific ranting. Remember the ‘Bewildering Boyfriend’? He’s out the picture, and I’m pretty sure it’s a good thing. Either way, I’ve been ranting about that so much that I feel like there’s steam coming out of my ears and I can’t be doing with it. I’m sure going back to uni I’ll have even more boy rants to get out of my system- but by and large it’s just not worth it.

Final resolution: I have 4, because 4 is my lucky number. Don’t play it down. I read this article about what people felt guiltiest about in life, some of them were pretty funny as you can imagine, but one woman said ‘Not being as happy as I should be,’ and I thought that was really sad, and I think everyone could be accused of not being as happy as we could be. Everyone I know seems to have an issue with saying they’re really happy, they’re doing great, they’re proud of themselves, everyone’s all just ‘Yeah I’m fine. Work’s fine, life’s fine blah blah bloody blah.’ It’s boring. It’s boring to say because it’s not the truth and it’s boring to hear because it’s what everyone’s saying.

And if I’m not happy where I am, I’ll move, I’m not a tree. (Is that not the Zen-nest thing you’ve ever read? Man have I got this yoga-peace-balance-of-the-Universe thing down)

creative daughter crashes startup bootcamp

Once again- I’m not dead, I’ve just been spending some time working with my Mum instead of rambling to the internet at large about what’s going on in my head. Please take a look at this post, it’s something I’m really proud to be a part of.

millie lingerie

I’d like to introduce millie’s first guest author, my daughter and blogger at Pringles Ponderings

I always joke with my Mum that I’ll look after her when she’s “old and grey,” and pretend that I’ll be the one telling her to look both ways at traffic lights and to put a scarf on to “keep that neck nice and warm.” We joke that one day, the roles will be permanently reversed. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t- knowing my Mum she’ll do whatever the hell she wants anyway. But yesterday I understood how she felt when she held my hand and walked me into my first day of school, when she told me to take a deep breath before my first A-Level exam. But more importantly, I completely understood her conviction when she told me she believed I could do anything I put my mind to. Yesterday I did all…

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The Argos Zen Bible

I have discovered a most amazing book. It fits so well with the Argos catalogue way of life that I can’t quite believe it exists. It is called, quite simply, ‘The Book of Answers.’ It contains little nuggets of golden ‘Good Vibes’ information, and you think a deep and meaningful question to yourself, and The Book will give you a hint as to where the world is going to take you.

Now the question on everyone’s lips- or in their fingertips- is have I asked The Book about what to do with my life? The answer is No. Now, this is for two reasons. The first because I am scared, like the book has some really serious and cautionary advice, I asked it a question and it simply said ‘Don’t go there’ so, ya know… I’m a little bit worried about what it might tell me. The second is that I think it’ll ruin the surprise. I mean, what if I ask it if I’ll ever become a writer and it gives me a definitive Yes or No? I don’t want the pressure of knowing that The Book says I can’t or I must, I just need it to give me a little hint.

I’ve also been discussing with my friend about how to repay the universe for the Argos back room (a.k.a. the universe bringing back to you what you’ve asked of it). We decided that we have to do self-improving things so that we become better people and can add more value to the lives of people around us. This may be a very superficial thing, for example drinking Fairtrade juice. It’s a tiny thing, and it may sound very selfish because it’s like ‘Hey, all you’re doing is buying yourself a nice drink,’ but if you buy that juice instead of a coke, you’re promoting a fairer world and buying with moral intent. Vote with your pounds and all that.

The self improvement for the Argos Gods can also be something as simple as waiting for someone to pass through the door first. Perfect example: I was in town today, swingy doors leading out of a shopping centre lead to the usual pile-up. So I waited for a long amount of time holding the door for loads of people to walk through. No one even said thank you, but right at the end a lovely elderly man came through, and had been waiting for ages behind all those other people. He was the only one that said thanks as well, which gave me faith in humanity. See? You allow the Argos Universe to have faith in you and it will restore your faith in other people.

And that, my internet comrades, is the end of today’s yoga-like blog. I promise it won’t always be so deep and Zen, I’ll start ranting about stuff before too long. Thanks for reading!

Oh and Mum- sending you good vibrations and all my love xxxxxx


SOMETHING VERY EXCITING HAS HAPPENED. No, I have not had any work published. No, I have not worked out what to do with my life. But! I have attained a fairly bad-ass injury. I, my internet comrades, have lost half a tooth, (hence, being a hillbilly). I personally feel that to smash half a tooth off is way cooler than losing the whole thing. I mean, to lose half of one constitutes a good story, to lose an entire tooth is just irresponsible.

I’m not going to bother going into how it all happened, because that seriously detracts from the injury, but! What is intriguing is the fact that I was very Zen about it. No one even believed me because I just stood up and said ‘I’ve lost a tooth, let’s go to a and e’ (they believed me after I opened my mouth). So! I am delighted to say that this Zen thing of being calm in a crisis actually works! BOOM I’M A YOGA GOD.

Now. In my last blog I said I needed to get a whale rant off my chest. This is because I watched a film/documentary thing called Blackfish. I reckon a fair few people have seen it because it’s very popular, but I think as many people as possible need to hear about it and watch it. Blackfish is about sea life in captivity- namely Orcas, or ‘Killer Whales’ and is based on real events recorded (or more to the point-not recorded) at SeaWorld. As you’ll know if you’ve been reading my blog for a while I have a weird love for whales (I used to want to be one), but I think even if you don’t have an obsession with Orcas, after watching Blackfish you’ll be as disgusted as I was. The general gist of Blackfish is that keeping creatures that are designed to swim in huge groups for thousands of miles shouldn’t be kept in a paddling pool with a couple of other whales. Not only does it endanger the lives of the whales themselves, but also the humans around them, who aren’t warned about the dangers of working with Killer Whales.

What really pisses me off (pardon my language, but I’m so upset about it) is that some people genuinely believe that because humans are the ‘superior’ species, we’re entirely justified in stealing baby animals from their parents and abusing them, because it makes money. It’s absolutely horrific and I’m genuinely embarrassed to be in the same species as such vile individuals.

Please don’t get me wrong, this does not mean I’m against sea conservation establishments. They are for animals that need protecting and I absolutely support that. I could go on for hours about this, but the fact is that SeaWorld is indisputably immoral, and they’ve got some inflated ego that allows them to think they deserve to harm animals because people keep paying to see it.

End of rant. Again, you need to see Blackfish. Thanks for reading.