November 2017

The Really Honest Review is a monthly/weekly/when I can be arsed-ly round-up of where I’ve been, what I’ve done – and whether or not it was shit. No fluff… just the good stuff.

Out and About.

Ever since Trump got into power, (seriously, ‘Merica, u ok hun?) my darling mother has gone from “I grow my own tomatoes you know” to full-turbo doomsday prepper. As well as stockpiling koka noodles and beans like a student visiting Costco for the first time, she’s started planting extra, ‘secret’ potatoes outside of her veggie patch, because she’s convinced that, when the apocalypse hits, the neighbours are going to come en-masse to rinse her stock, and she wants to have some that they don’t know about. I’m not joking, by the way.

Anyway, the point of me telling you this is because, somewhere around 4am last Wednesday, I realised she might have a tiny bit of a point when it comes to WW3 breaking out. So, just incase, I went back to see my favourite viking trainers at Whistle Punks for some axe-throwing training. If you haven’t already, have a read of my big fat axe throwing experience, and I’ll catch you all in the Hunger Games.  

Food and Bevs.

Midweek I was invited to the new ‘Chez Mal’ at the Liverpool Malmaison hotel for tea and bevs. Now, when I think of hotel restaurants I always think of them as places businessmen pretend to read the paper while they eat alone, rather than somewhere you’d go for a meal with your fella. But, and I swear I’m not getting paid to say this, the Chez Mal is the perfect date night restaurant. Not only has it got gorgeous views of the Liver Building lit up at night and gorgeous food, but the deep red interior and candlelight could make literally anyone look sexy.

It’s lucky that I wasn’t there with my fella though, to be honest, because the way I shoved course the famous Stack Burger down my throat like it was paying me, I’m pretty sure I’d be single by now. In summary; good food, good wine, fit cocktails…. 10/10, would recommend.

malmaison liverpool stack burger


In an attempt to do something other than eat, drink and complain about getting fat, me and my friend K decided we’d spend our Saturday climbing Pendle Hill. Turns out, I’m not quite as fit as I was last year when I did Tough Mudder with minimal training, because we were fucked after about a quarter of the hill. Because we were staggering up so slowly, we ended up walking alongside this little, old Jewish man who didn’t speak a word of English. Every 4 minutes he would tap me on the shoulder and hand me his phone to take a photo of him, which was fine… until we wanted to give up halfway but couldn’t because we felt sly that he was losing his photographer. Long story short; me, K and little, old Ari made it to the top. Next stop; Everest.

pendle hill review

Until next time… x


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