Another Bank Holiday Survived ...

Hi,
 
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
 
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
 
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
 
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
 
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.

With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.

With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx