Nov 22, 2019: Middle

Another racy Friday night in our house as we, once more, take on the challenge of the escape room jigsaw.

We’ve abandoned the edges. We don’t talk about the gap. Or the fact that the two left over pieces don’t seem to go anywhere. That will all resolve itself, probably.

We’ve moved onto the internal structure of it, and we’ve been having a field day. Carole’s made a collection of everything and anything that looks like a glass jar or bottle. I’ve assembled parchment with runes on. And a pumpkin. And a candlestick.

We’re ploughing through it at a rate of knots. I mean, that rate is probably a quarter or maybe half a knot, but that is still – technically – a rate.

The biggest mystery for me, still, is what the chuff we do when it’s all together. There are, apparently, eight puzzles in it that need solving before we can escape the scenario we find ourselves in – one in which we have, for reasons unknown, eaten a weird mushroom. There doesn’t appear to be anything – as yet – indicating any sort of starting location for the puzzle solving. And I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said there is stuff written fricking everywhere.

Because there is stuff written fricking everywhere.

Maybe it will all become clear once we’ve got it all together and can look at the finished image. Or the almost finished image apart from those two edge pieces which will refuse to find a home throughout the entire thing.

They only need to stay out of the puzzle for another few days before we’ll probably convince ourselves that they are, inexplicably, from another puzzle and clearly nothing to do with this one.

I know that’s not the case. But it’s better to think that than to try to understand how they fit somewhere they definitely do not look like they fit.

Maybe they’re the starting point of the whole thing. Maybe they’re they key to solving the mystery.

Or it might just be that we’re massive idiots and missed something really obvious when we did the edges last week… but sod them, they had they’re chance. We’re all about the piles of bottle pieces and having to use our polling cards – probably being more use here than when it comes to actually voting – to move large constructed sections to their correct (maybe) home.

Those two edge pieces though…

… no, I have moved on.

I can feel them judging me through the table, though…