My current weekly obsession is looking up other people's homes on the Internet (don't tell me I'm the only one stalking which has lead me to discovering the joy of panic rooms.  I thought that it was just the name of a Jodie Foster film!  But it seems more and more of us are becoming paranoid and generally just plain scared of life and that 'they' are out to get us.  These panic rooms are offering security in this bonkers world.  In my day, you would have just snuggled up to your security blanket or been told to get a grip of yourself and get on with it but times have changed.


Apparently, these escape rooms cover off different things.  The basic panic room is just an air conditioned cube, probably without even a window - think of a  prison cell with reinforced doors and you get my drift. Only in this instance you want to be able to call the police to come and rescue you,  not put you in there in the first place! 


For those with more dosh, you can get the deluxe version, which escalate significantly in price.  Some have showers, cooking facilities and even Barista's (OK, I made that up but mine would definitely need to have coffee in it.)  Apparently there is even a bunker style panic room option where you can wait out a nuclear attack.  Imagine! Personally, I am not sure I would go for that option knowing that all my loved ones are perishing on the outside, but each to there own I suppose.


So it's fair to say, I'm not in the rich category, the last time I checked my last name was not Kardashian, so I'm never going to be one of the celebrities that need a panic room in their home. Unless of course this whole writing thing takes off and I become ultra successful (maybe I should patent the Barista style panic room idea just in case!) The most extreme threat I face at the moment is sticky hands on my work clothes or a constant barrage of 'Mum, can I have this' and the odd night of sleep deprivation caused by vomiting bugs.


I do like the idea of a panic room, though.  A place you can just go to away from everyone else, for a few quiet moments. I am currently 23 minutes into my quiet time in a room, on my own.  Yes, the kids are still alive, I have checked, several times. I have shut the door to the front room and am in the corner of my kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.  Last weeks newspapers spread out on the table for me to glance through that I never got the chance to read when the news was actually happening. Oh, it feels good to just have a few moments space to myself. I glance at the clock, another 7 minutes to go until the kids TV programme ends.  I peek through the keyhole, yes they are still glued to the TV.  I sit back down.