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?