New term dreads for mums

Not knowing where the classroom is

Probably the most important thing about your child’s school is knowing where you have to drop them off and pick them up every day, and if you are super unorganized/ were too busy to go to the new class introduction evening/ couldn’t really be bothered to go because there was something good on the TV that night, then you may struggle to find the correct room to dispose of your child for the day. If it is your first time visiting the school, you can get away with going to reception and asking instead of looking like a wide-eyed mummy gazelle hopping about to each classroom asking someone who looks like they could be a teacher: ‘Is this Molly Stanley’s class?’

If it is not your first rodeo at the school but a new year, so a new class, your child should know where they are going- so ask them! If they don’t know, get them to pinpoint a friend and follow that child. If all else fails, just pop your child in any classroom and run away. They will end up in the right class when the teacher notices an extra child.

Not knowing the teachers name

That episode on the telly that you watched instead of going to the class introduction night is really going to haunt you now. You may have found the classroom (unless you are still wondering around aimlessly), but what-on-earth is their teachers name? Some staff, if you are lucky, will be wearing name tags- but more often than not they would have swung around the lanyard on their neck and all you can see is a blank white bit of card.

You could blag it and just say: ‘Sorry Mr Smith, I thought that was the right classroom I dropped my child off at this morning, I didn’t realise it was the kitchen and Molly would eat the teachers secret stash of biscuits.’ Smith is a pretty general name, so it could be worth a go, otherwise just say Sir or Miss. It’s what all the kids do anyway, so you are just down with them.

Awkward hello’s with other parents you don’t know

For some wild reason, because you are a parent, you are supposed to communicate with other parents around you in the playground every morning and afternoon. For most, a polite smile is enough acknowledgement that you both have a child and they happen to be in the same classroom together. For others....that is just not enough.

Some parents will engage you in conversation and mention your child saying how your children are besties.

‘Molly and Lily-Sue are the greatest of friends. They are so cute together, Lily-Sue talks about Molly all the time! So bless.’

You will politely nod along not having a clue who the heck Lily-Sue is because your child has never said anything about her before and a minute ago you did not even know Lily-Sue existed.

Getting to school on time

When children come along, time keeping goes out of the window- until it is time for school. The mornings do not work well for most parents. There is the chaos of dragging the kids out of bed, getting their uniform on, shovelling some toast down their throats, getting them changed again as jam has appeared on their clothes, then the hunt for the shoes/coat/bag begins, and parents are expected to be at school by a certain time.

Yet, not quite at a certain time, because the gates shut a whole FIVE minutes before that certain time , so you actually have to be early, before the scheduled certain time and early does not work well for most of us.

Sometimes, I think it would be a whole lot easier to home-school than have to put up with this, but then that would come with a whole heap of other crap, so I will be back at those school gates in just over a week, squeezing through the gate with 10 seconds to spare. Iwill throw my child in a classroom and run out past all of the other parents.

If we run past each other, smile- we’re in this together. 

Why you shouldn't cheer for Love Island

Love Island is the word on everyone’s lips at the moment, most people can’t get enough, and why? Because these days it had become apparent, we have an insatiable appetite for the down and dirty.

I can get on with my life without Love Island and groan when people mention it, but the tipping point for me writing this article (or load of drivel – you’re allowed your opinion...as am I...), was an article in Fabulous magazine.

The opinion piece was called ‘I’m man enough to admit I love Love Island’ by writer Tom Bacon. He likes the show, which is good for him, but what was not so good was his explanation for watching it, and the comments throughout his article:

‘Only a couple can win, so contestants hook up for fear of getting dumped from the island.’

‘I simply want to know who’s going to ‘put it on’ who.’

‘It’s got the similar appeal of a boxing match...’

‘I want carnage, I want former Blazin’ Squad member Maecel to cheat on personal trainer Gabby.’

As I said, if that is what he likes and what he wants to be then ok, but would any of the above be acceptable in our personal lives?

The writer says he has ‘grown to care for this bunch.’ But would he be so caring if his actual friends were being treated like the ‘gladiatorial combat’ he loves so much on TV?

The worrying thing is that all of the comments that Tom has written in his article are the reasons why everyone else is watching Love Island. No one actually cares if any of them fall in love, they just want the carnage leading up to the end point. No matter who gets hurt.

We are, no scratch that, YOU are all forgetting that these are actually real desperate people. Would you be proud watching your daughter or best mate on the show egging them on to get with another bloke to stay on the show? Girls outside of Love Island would be called all sorts of derogatory names for getting with countless guys in days but because it is on TV it is ok?

I thought today’s women were all about teaching men to respect us, but if you are all watching Love Island and accepting the behaviours of the men and women on there, then should we be doing that when we go out to a club or pub when looking for love? Should we all be expected to be cheated on?

The contestants on the show are literally climbing on top of each other to get to the top, why are you cheering that?

If this was just for entertainment then I would keep my opinion to myself, but I fear the reality of Love Island is going to trickle into singletons lives and make things acceptable when we should be better than that.

5 things I learnt while attempting to run

(The above is not me, I wish it was.)

Running, one of the easiest forms of exercise.

The gist is putting one foot in front of the other, building up speed until you find a comfortable pace.

So, this morning I put on my 'running' gear (a strappy top over a bulging bra, and some stretchy leggings that just about held everything in), and took off for the Sussex Downs.

After 10 seconds I learnt something, after a minute I learnt a little more, after three minutes I had learnt five things, so I stopped, sat down on a patch of grass and wrote this (while panting like a wild dog)...

1. Hobnobs are not a stable breakfast choice.

I had a high for about 10 seconds, where I thought I was a lion. I felt so good, the day was bright and beautiful, the grass around me was lush and green, my feet were moving at a fast pace, I was bounding, happy, elated. Then 11 seconds in, I felt exhausted. My feet felt like lead weights, my arms went limp by my sides and my lungs were fit to burst.

Next time: Will have Weetabix for breakfast.

2. Appropriate clothing is important.

Wearing a push up bra while attempting to go about a normal life is not easy. Well, try doing some form of exercise while wearing one -actually on second thoughts...don't. My two black eyes are pretty painful. Leggings are also an awful choice to run in, they kept falling down and in order to keep my muffin top in I had to pull them up beyond my waist and kick my legs out to the side a little. I must have looked like a weird half human half Bambi creature. I apologise if I subjected you to that if you were out this morning.

Next time: Buy proper running gear.

3. I got fat

The last time I went running was...hmm, a while ago. Possibly as long as a year ago, but I thought I would be able to do what I used to do and run for a whole 20 minutes at a time. Nope, nope, totally not. Bits of my body wobbled that I didn't even know could wobble. Everything moved like jelly, even when I stopped I felt like I was on a vibrating machine and it took a while for me to gain my footing again. That is why I had to sit down to write this- health and safety reasons.

Next time: Try running for a minute at a time.

4. Don't run with a husky.

Any idiot knows that when a husky wants to run, they RUN. So, when I tried to do my version of a run, my dog Hades was not impressed. Yes, he is a pulling dog and I know how quick he can be so I should have left him at home but I thought it would be fun. HA, no. He literally turned and huffed at me as I was puffing away behind him. He even had to stop so I could catch up with him and he was on a lead. He won't even look at me now as we sit here. The only thing I have in common with him is we both pant the same.

Next time: Leave the husky at home.

5. I got inspired.

I can't really wear headphones as the little nob things always fall out of my ears (I must have exceptionally large ear holes), so I was able to take in all of my surroundings. I moo-ed back at the cows, I said hello to birds sitting on fences, I waved at people in the distance and I felt truly happy and inspired. I have also written loads of notes for more blog posts, you lucky things. So even though my run didn't quite go according to plan, I'm not going to give up because even my feeble attempt today has left me wanting to go out and run again tomorrow.

Next time: Just go for it.

5 things you learn when you get a husky

Get a husky I thought, it will be fun...I thought- and it is, well, for the most part.

However, sometimes I wish I had a really old, slow, half dead dog that knew his name.

I learnt a few things very quickly when I got a husky, here are my top 5...(for the purpose of this blog I am using 'He' but it applies to female husky's too.)

1. When going on a walk your arm will be yanked out of its socket approximately 56 times, possibly more if there are a lot of other dogs around. You may also notice that the arm you predominately hold the lead in has taken on a hulk like appearance and you can crush cans with surprising ease.

2. You will start running, not as a hobby but as a necessity. When you decide to let your husky off the lead (because we all try this in the beginning, then we understand why husky's are rarely off the lead), he will pelt off into the distance and you will find yourself having to run constantly to catch up with him before meets a new family and goes off with them. He will not look back, nor care that you are screaming like a banshee.

3. Which brings me to this point...he will pretend he does not know his name. If you are doing the above and chasing your husky, shouting his name will mean absolutely nothing. Though it is mildly amusing to fellow walkers if you are shouting 'COME HERE MR FLUFFINS THIS INSTANT!' If you are at home and your husky has been naughty, if you call him by his name to tell him off, he will look the other way and pretend he thinks you are talking to some other naughty husky.

4. On walks you will look at other owners with their dogs walking calmly by their sides off lead and you will look at your dog with mild disappointment and say to him 'Why can't you be like that?' Your dog will then yank you over to said dog and the owner will look at you cautiously while backing away asking 'Is he OK?' You will say the well rehearsed line 'Yes, he is very friendly, but he is a husky so he just runs off if he is not on lead.' 

5. Having a husky is harder than having a child sometimes, but he is my baby and he is so much fun. I would be lost without him, like he would be without me if I didn't keep him on the lead. 

I love you Mr Fluffins.

(AKA Hades, Mr Fluffins was a made up name for this piece but actually, I quite like it...maybe I will get another Husky and call him that. Then again...maybe not.)

Baking for 'good' mothers

All good mothers know that you should attempt to bake with your child every once in a while.

It takes a lot of preparation, patience and the understanding that the cakes/biscuits will look nothing like the picture in the book, or on the internet and they will probably end up being fed to the dog as he is the only one who will stomach them. Even so, he will give them a second glance before taking them.

However, if you grin and bear the baking hour (it should not last more than an hour, if it does then declare the oven is broken and send the kids back to the TV), then you will not have to do it for at least another 6 months/ year if you are really lucky.

So, my latest attempt at baking with Scarlett started off well, like usual...full of hope, promise and lies:

'Our biscuits will look just the same, of course darling!'

I then discovered that my electronic scales had stopped working as I hadn't used them in 6 months, so I had to guess the amount of ingredients. After a bit of 'Add more flour'...'No! add more butter!' we got a ball of dough together.

We made the heart shapes then I threw them into the oven and hoped for the best- whatever that was.

Then came the 'fun' part. Making the gooey marshmallow/Chewit melting mess in the middle of the sandwich biscuits. Once the half burnt biscuits were out and I put the slime in the middle, the pan was a hot sticky mess, so I did the easiest thing and I threw it into the bin. I haven't looked back.

Scarlett decided to take the biscuits into her teachers, and after a bite I gladly wrapped them in cling film and put the in her bag for the morning.

I haven't had a chance to speak to her teachers to see if they enjoyed them, but I have seen them glaring and backing away from me, so at least the are still standing.

If your baking day with your children is coming up, I have provided the recipe below should you fancy making these for your relatives/children's teachers/enemies.

Good luck and I will feel the pain of baking for 'good' mothers again in six months...

Escape game Brighton

We walked into a dark room, the door was clicked shut behind us and a chill ran through my body as a voice filled the room. This was it, we had to find the clues the murderer had left to escape the room, or be murdered.

We had one hour, locks, keys, magnets and a whole load of clues which were challenging to say the least- it is a good job I am not a detective in real life, else not a lot would get solved.

My partner and I played the 2 player version of Murder at Brighton Pier: Revenge but had I realised how much I would need to think outside the box, I would have dragged a few more brains along with us.

This escape game is genius, unique and a brilliant night out and I can’t recommend it enough. It is a night you will not forget in a hurry.

So, the most important part- did we escape? Well, I have written this post but I might be speaking from beyond the grave...

escapegamebrighton.com

Rage against rage

It hits with the force of 10,000 bricks smacking into your face. It is usually unexpected to all around and the person it is coming from.

This is no 0-60 it is 0-100,000. There is no rolling thunder just a bolt of lightning to stun before the storm gets underway.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it disappears.

It’s scary, it’s frightening, it’s unpredictable, it’s The RAGE and it seems to be inside us all.

My realisation of The RAGE was at the weekend when I was going through an old magazine which I hadn’t yet read (It was dated 26^th Feb 2017, this time next year I should be up to date with my March magazines).

I was in the car coming back from one of our weekend walks with the dog with my partner and our kids, when I came across an article in Fabulous Magazine (Free in The Sun on Sunday’s), called ‘The rage epidemic’.

The writer of the article explained how she was having a hard time ‘keeping her cool’. I sniggered to myself and sympathised with her when suddenly, as we were pulling up at my parent’s house for dinner, something stirred inside me.

It was as if my mind suddenly went Well, that seems like a good idea, we haven’t raged in a while so why not have a little go now?

So I did...

I looked across to my partner who had said absolutely nothing for the past 20 minutes and opened my mouth:

‘YOU’RE NOT BRINGING THAT BLOODY DOG INTO MY PARENTS HOUSE, HE WINDS US ALL UP AND I CAN’T DEAL WITH HIM RIGHT NOW.’

He looked at me blankly and The RAGE kept tumbling out of my mouth,

‘BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...’

I went on for another couple of minutes, stomped into my parent’s house, took a deep breath and said:

‘Sorry about that.’

And our lives carried on as though nothing had happened, well, apart from the confused look on my partners face.

It is weird and confusing for us both when this happens (admittedly it happens a couple of times a week), but according to the article in Fabulous magazine one in four of us worry about how angry we feel.

Speaking to friends I have realised that we all have RAGE inside us which we let out (and sometimes enjoy doing so) but I think the key to handling it, is not let The RAGE take over.

Since reading the article I have tried to take a step back when I can feel the bubbling inside me before I explode, I have tried to take a deep breath and take it down a notch. My God does it burn to do that sometimes, but afterwards I do feel better for not always shouting at everything and everyone.

I believe it is healthy to feel The RAGE, but just don’t let it become you. If in doubt just say to yourself: I’m better than you RAGE, you won’t win. There is always wine around and wine will always win.

(Wine bottle holder pictured above available at homewetbar.com)

(Pictured above is the original article by Claie Wilson in Fabulous Mag.)

Face to face with her

I don’t know what you would call what I did, however, ‘odd’ was one of the more polite terms used.

This afternoon I waxed my eyebrows, moustache, had a bath, put on a full Face of make-up (minus the red lips as I didn’t want to look too vampy at 3.30pm on a Friday), layered my fat pants under my jeans- which, I think just pushed all of the fat up but at least my boobs looked good. Then I had a slight panic when I realised there was nothing I could do about my growing second chin apart from looking up towards the sky or curbing my fast food habit (but it was too late for that), so, I pushed that worry to the side and put on my new top, resisted the urge to have a cigarette as I didn’t want to smell like fag ash Lil, took a big gulp of my banana milk from my wine glass and got in the car.

Why did I go to all of this craziness? Because I was going to pick up my step-kids from their mum’s, (AKA my fiancés ex), for the first time. My partner usually gets the kids, so I’ve never needed to meet her...until now.

Have I completely lost the plot? Is this normal ‘seeing your partner’s ex for the first time’ behaviour? I am not worried about her, she’s engaged, I’m engaged, but for some reason the whole charade of what I did seemed like a good idea.

Has anyone else done this when going to meet THE EX?

Witches suspected on Worthing beach

A dog walker stumbled upon a witches broom on Worthing seafront this morning.

Daisy Smith, 28, was walking her dog Hades on the shingle near Wallace Avenue when she spotted the broom resting on a rock.

“I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

“I come across all sorts on the beach, but this was a first”

Ms Smith said she thinks that finding the broom could be linked to shadowy figures she saw in the same area a few days previously.

“The beach is where I like to walk most, and at all times of the day. At 10pm last Tuesday night I was in the same area and I saw 3 figures with their hoods up sitting around a fire.

“It is the beginning of March, no one in their right mind has a camp fire on a freezing night in March.

“Witches, I tell you.”

The Record (this fictitious newspaper), spoke to other locals in the area but were unable to confirm if they had seen any suspicious witch activities in the area.

Local Mildred Cackle, 56, said she does not believe any of it.

“What a load of old gobble, something wicked this way comes but it is not witches.

“We must all watch out for evil influences.”

The broom has now been removed and destroyed.

The sh*t slide

I don’t usually like talking about these kinds of sticky situations because they are, well, private. However, these are the habits of my children so I’m going to blab away. They can plot their revenge when they are older. Thankfully none of them have Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or any other type of social media yet, so I can write this for now without any repercussions.

What has got my goat? (Who came up with that saying? I don’t even have a goat, am I allowed to actually use that saying if I don’t own one? Ah well, I will Google it later, but for now the goat is staying). So, anyway, my goat has been got by the toilet.

Poo stains, or skid marks left by the children in the toilet to be precise. Every time we have the younger children I find myself constantly cleaning the toilet after them. I know I can’t really ask a 5, 7, and 8 year old to grab a toilet brush and give the bowl a good scrub after they have done their business (though I would pay very good pocket money) but I’m not sure what else to do.

Actually, thinking about it, handing them all a toilet brush would probably be a bad idea as they would inevitably make more mess and end up playing ‘poo brush duel’.

Yes, we have two toilets brushes in the bathroom- no, I don’t know why either, but thankfully we don’t have three else it would be a poo-bath.

I do understand that having a broken toilet seat which slides around on the porcelain could contribute to some stains as they are literally sh*tting themselves thinking they are going to end up being flushed away, but until a pixie comes along and fixes it, they will have to deal with it and ride it out.

So, what do I do? The loo brush is getting more action than I am at the moment.

Does anyone else have this problem with their children? And if so, what do you do? Suck it up and scrub the toilet yourself, or tell them to clean up after themselves?

Email me at bexblush@gmail.com If I don’t reply, you know what I am doing.

Banana Bread for idiots

I love banana bread, one of my first memories at school is talking about St Lucia and eating banana bread. Who knew years later I would still have a love affair with them both.

However, try as I might, I am not much use in the kitchen. I am like Gordon Ramsay in the sense that I swear a lot, but I think if he came to my house to try my food he would need a bin nearby to spit my concoction into.

This was my latest attempt...

(I was checking it was warm and am not covering the burnt bits.)

A useless baker would blame their tools, but in this case I think I am allowed a little leeway because my bottom oven doesn't work and only half of the top oven heats up. So, I think I can be forgiven for it not being Instagram worthy, besides the burn bits can always be cut off.

Banana bread is very easy to make and only a total moron would muck it up, so I have provided the recipe and instructions below so you can have a go.

The measurements are in 'cups' I think it is an American thing, so I went to Asda and picked up some cute baby pink and blue heart measuring cups. I would post a picture of them but they are sat by the sink waiting to be washed so if you don't know what they are Google 'Measuring cups'. I haven't Googled it myself so hopefully they will be baking related measuring cups and not cups for measuring anything else. Let me know and I will remove this advice if something rude pops up.

Oven gloves are also a good investment, as I have found over the years (and today) that using tea towels is not sufficient and leads to burns.

Right, ingredients:

3 very ripe bananas, peeled and mashed

1/2 cup melted butter

pinch of salt

3/4 cup sugar

1 large egg, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour (I couldn't find all purpose so used plain. With hindsight self-raising might have been a better option. I haven't had time to make a new loaf of banana bread but next time would use self-raising, so if you have that then use it.)


Instructions:

1. Mash the bananas in a big mixing bowl and put the oven on 180 degrees

2. Melt the butter over a low heat

3. Mix the melted butter and banana together

4. Chuck all of the rest of the ingredients into the bowl and mix

5. Put the mixture into a loaf tin and put it in the oven for an hour

6. Cross fingers and hope for the best

7. After the hour, take the bread out and admire the smell even if it doesn't look that good

8. Put it on a cooling tray with a view to cutting off the burn bits

9. Eat and enjoy!

I promise you it will taste good. If you don't like it and you have a dog, give it to the dog. Though
mine spat it out, yours might appreciate your effort.

Actually, are dogs allowed bananas? I best give it a Google...

Love notes

I pick up random things all of the time, like random words (nort has now replaced the word not. I initially did it to wind up my partner but now I can nort stop doing it), random shaped stones on the beach, (the long thin ones are the most amusing), random candles, random bits for nothing in particular, and I love nothing more than a gander in a charity shop to look at the random things people have donated.

This is my most recent random charity shop pick-up:

It is a book full of love notes. People from around the world have shared love notes they have received, on scraps of paper, text messages, envelopes etc. Some of the notes are funny, some are weird, and some are pretty harsh.

This one is my favourite:

I guess that shows I am not really a romantic person if that was my favourite note. It is a little hard to read so if you can't see the picture it says: I trust you did not raise your hopes too high about your chances after Monday because to be quite honest I never rated them to (sic) highly. I hope you don't give up though.'

SAVAGE.

Well to be 'quite honest'  if someone doesn't know the difference between to and too then I wouldn't really want to see them again anyway.

After reflecting on being totally unromantic, I decided to write my own love note just to see if I could dig a little romance out...

I love how you keep me feeling cosy and warm
We share a love that will last and last
When I'm feeling blue I come to you
Thank you for being there I love you my strong, beautiful, reliable,  bed.

I’m obviously not (nort) much of a poet either and can't write a lovey dovey message to save my life, but I have received my fair share of love notes over the years.

I can count on one hand how many I have been given, a couple were popped through my slot in my locker at school, and although I may not have always been the intended recipient, I cherished them all the same.  One started 'Dear Sarah,' but maybe the writer thought I was called Sarah. I could have been Sarah.

At college I got a particularly sinister email from a guy which I think was supposed to be a love note, but it just came across as a bit creepy. I printed it off and kept it, just so if anything happened to me then the police would have a lead. I'm still here so his love for me must have dwindled. I actually still have the email, it's in a memory box at my parents house. I will dig it out and post it when I am there next so you can draw your own conclusions. I would go and get it now but it is 9pm and I am in my cat pj's...I mean sexy lingerie.

I did enjoy reading the book, but to be perfectly honest the only love note I want to see is one that says:

Meet me at 6pm I am taking you to a restaurant. La Mc Donald’s.

Am I just the most unromantic person in the world? What would your love note say? Let's carry on the love note sharing, post yours in the comment section or email me bexblush@gmail.com I will publish the collection in a couple of weeks and we can see how lovey dovey you all are. (I am totally being optimistic  by saying 'collection' as I will probably only get two responses and one will be from my partner telling me about his love for cheesecake and boobs.)

5 tips/warnings about sharing a bedroom with a man

I'm sitting here in my beautiful hotel room at the Crowne Plaza in Felbridge, wrapped in my snuggly complementary dressing gown (which has a message in the pocket which says it like to live here, so the sensitive pathetic side of me has wrestled with my conscience and said it would not prefer to live at my house), drinking hot chocolate and writing.

Me and my partner have just come back from a lovely meal, we have now been in a relationship long enough for him to feel comfortable around me and do whatever comes naturally to him, in the form of gas. He is going to bloody hate me if he ever reads this, but I feel it is a necessary post so I will continue...

I have not ever felt the need to let my body expose itself to himself in such a way (I'm trying to find a nice way to say I haven't broken wind in front of him- EVER. I know! And I also don't know how I have not), but it got me thinking about when what it is like sharing a bedroom with a man.

So for those of you who have never lived with a guy, I will give you 5 top tips/ warnings just so you know what to expect.

1. Don't ever shut door at bedtime because it becomes hotbox of farts during the night. It is advisable to invest in a gas mask- especially after a spicy meal.

2. Perfect your dead corpse pose, it is like the white painted man you see in movies when someone has died on the floor. It is known as the 'We are not having sex position.'

3. If he goes to bed before you so you can catch up on all of the episodes of the Real Housewives (of whatever county), when you eventually go to bed, up he will be on your side and will have drooled on your pillow.

4. Politely put his pants in the laundry, they will never get there by themselves. Don't ever throw away pants with ball holes, because according to him they are still wearable and will be until the hole is so big he is chafing on his trousers, and they are now becoming thin around the ball area.

5. There is no reading or phone time if you are in bed and he wants to go to sleep. A herd of elephants would not wake him in the morning but the ickle light from your phone/ reading lamp  is enough to keep him moaning and groaning until the room is in pitch black.

You have been warned...

Seeing red in Feb

February is all about the colour red, red roses, red hearts, red shoes and red wine (most importantly). 

Red is the colour which you can put on and instantly feel damn hot in, orange just doesn't seem to have the same effect, does it?

So, whether you have a date with your man or a date with your girls this Valentine's day, here are 6 products in Red for you to fall in love with...

New Look dark red velvet shoes  £14.00 newlook.com

Topshop Ladder trim dress £45.00 topshop.com

Rimmel Provocalips Lip Lacquer (Not Guilty) £6.99 superdrug.com

Carvela red 'Darla Croc' tote handbag was £89.00 now £39.00 debenhams.com

Celia Longline Bra £26.00 annsummers.com

Gift Republic Wine Enthusiast Grow Me (Red Wine) £3.99 amazon.co.uk 

(I've just bought four of the above. Happy Valentine's day to me!)

Bacon eggy bread recipe

This recipe was born last week in a kitchen with a fridge which was empty except for bacon and eggs, but I guarantee once you have tried it, bacon eggy bread will become a firm favourite in your house.

*A word of warning, have the fire brigade on standby.

Ingredients for one person:

3 eggs

2 rashers of bacon  

2 slices of white bread

Oil to drizzle in frying pan

Method:

Fry or grill the bacon until slightly crispy

Crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk

Heat a frying pan on a low heat with a little oil

*Don’t forget about the bacon if it is under the grill-  on my first attempt I nearly burnt the place down. (It is an easy mistake to make in my opinion, I blame using the healthy option of grilling. If the bacon was being fried then it would not have happened.)

Put the cooked bacon in the egg mixture and dip a piece of bread in coating both sides. If you squish the bread then the bacon should stick to it. If not take the bread out and pop some bacon on top.

Carefully (and skilfully) flip the side with the most bacon face down into the frying pan and use a spatula to push the bread down to ensure the bacon sticks to the bread

Pop some more bacon onto the uncooked side of bread, then flip over -but be careful not to throw the bacon everywhere, and push down with a spatula

Flip every couple of minutes- but not like a pancake because that is just asking for trouble. You may end up with egg and bacon on your face

Once you are happy with that slice of bacon eggy bread, repeat with the other slice of bread.

You should end up with something that looks a bit like this:

The ketchup heart is optional, brown sauce may be used or any other condiment which takes your fancy.

Happy cooking!

5 things we all do on 'Diet Day'

There comes a time in every woman's life when she realises her jeans are a bit snug and D Day (Diet Day) must commence ASAP.

Tomorrow is when our diets always start. To prepare you for when that day comes, I have compiled a list of 5 things we all do on Diet Day...

* The diet starts tomorrow! Must eat everything in the cupboard, even if it is out of date. Nothing will go to waste. Not even that chocolate covered Turkish delight that tastes like you are eating a bunch of flowers. Also must go through tea/coffee cupboard and drink all of the hot chocolate, chocolate in any form can NOT be in the house.

* Raid wardrobe and pull out pair of jeans you have not squeezed into for 3 years, but are convinced that this diet will finally get you into them. Hang them where visible for inspiration and look at them longingly.

* Walk to the shops (go you!) and buy a fitness magazine, read it cover to cover and attempt the exercises inside. Laugh at yourself as it all goes horribly wrong and you nearly put your back out. Then pat yourself on the back (or rub gently), 1. For still being in one piece and 2. For laughing because laughing is exercise. Even if it is just at yourself.

* Feel inspired after attempt at exercising and pull out an old fitness DVD. Tell yourself you will do the whole thing and then after 10 minutes collapse with a cuppa - minus the biscuit. You are taking this diet thing seriously.

* At the end of D Day 1, look at clock and realise you have lasted 12 hours on diet and reward yourself with a doughnut.

Ah well, you can always start again tomorrow....

The thing about being a blogger

Everybody's grandma/aunt/brother/step-sister/dog/next-door's rabbit, has a blog these days.

Blogs can be about absolutely anything; from giving a pet a voice (my dog had one but he only wrote one post because he is too lazy and his favourite activity is farting not writing), to writing about beauty products and everything in between and beyond.

They all start off with good intentions 'I promise to blog every day' and most attempt to fill their readers minds with insight- but it doesn't have to be that way.

Sometimes I might not blog every day because I have gone and got pissed the night before, or because I have eaten a meal that even King Henry VIII would have struggled to contend with and as result I have fallen into a food coma.

Some days I might not always stick to one subject matter, for example where the title might be 'The best nipple tassels on the internet' (sorry, it was the first thing that came into my head), I will inevitably end up talking about something so far removed from nipple tassels and then do a full circle back to nipples.

Other times I might write about something random like....skipping- because, well, why not? I skip at least once a day, down the road, at work, to the shops- not with a rope, just with my body. Much like a child.

The thing about being a blogger is you can say what you damn well want. It might not always be insightful (though some of my blogs might help you at the next pub quiz you go to. I will give you all kinds of random information- that I do promise), and it might sometimes be a bit gross- wait till I tell you about my exploding stretch mark! But just follow along with the madness and laugh.

It might be with me, it might be at me but the important thing is, to skip along with me.

I'll probably be back tomorrow, if the wine stays in the fridge. However, if you see me skipping and singing down the road at midnight online (Title: Crazy drunk woman skipping), I might not be with it enough to write tomorrow.

Bex Blush