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.)