Game On!

Afternoon All, 

So another week down and this week we celebrate it being less than a month until Christmas, when that big guy comes down the chimney and we all end up stuffing our faces with yummy food. And while everyone else is flapping about shopping and plans and all the rest of it, I am cool as a kumquat as I have all mine in the bag, or sack as the case may be!

After spending the working week in finance as a credit controller, my team and I have had to get a grips with the new system that has been introduced which has been difficult but I am sure that by the time we all leave for the holidays we will have mastered its workings! Only having to work a three day week helped too though as I had taken Monday off for the photo shoot and then Friday for getting my hair done. Yes, I did it. Although the results were not as expected. Nearly four hours after firstly walking into the salon in Croydon and after being charged more than expected for a colour I didn't ask for it was safe to say I was aggravated. I said strawberry blonde not strawberry jam! I was so angry and upset I decided to hit the shops for some retail therapy, hoping to improve my mood, but it was a phone-call from that compatible lover himself, Mr. Cheese. After convincing me to come by his after I had finished spending more money he left me with the classic one liner that despite the colour of my hair, I would still look gorgeous. Since I was going to a big, corporate rugby match tomorrow (I know very posh) with his flatmate and parents I felt that this would be as good time as any and so bags in toe, I made my way from south London to his place and we spent the evening together snuggled up on the sofa, blankets and all, watching David Attenborough and eating pudding mis-mash. Bliss!

Saturday morning Mr. Cheese and I spent the whole morning lounging in bed, in between snuggles, sleep and seducing one another. Highlight of the morning definitely has to be my lover pointing at my waist and ordering me - 'Off!' Oh how I do enjoy being submissive. But not all the time - I like control too! Haha. After more napping and natter we got up and made some breakfast. Super healthy seeded bread (probably made by hippies in a caravan up a mountain) with what else than lemon curd smothered into its crustiness. Mmm. Settling back into the lounge with a mug of proper coffee and some toast I knew that things couldn't be easier than right then. After a while of watching telly and munching I suddenly realised what the time was. I had less that forty-five minutes to get ready and leave. That included make-up, lashes, nails, outfit and that all dreaded fire-extinguisher mane! Thankfully the stylist on Friday had styled it so that the big curls stayed in meaning I didn't have to do much but as Mr. Cheese, his flatmate and I left for the station I felt nervous about meeting his parents again with my new hair that I wasn't that confident in. But my hair wasn't the only thing I was troubled by; My nails were unpainted, m lashes were still in their box and my face looked like my cousin had done it. I was not feeling my best. But despite this I pretended and rocked the thrown-together outfit like I was in Dior and Versace.

Upon arrival at the stadium my feet were already killing and I was hoping that I could sit for a while before mingling with the corporate box hoo-ha's. I was handed my ticket which looked very posh and I entered a world I was unaccustomed to. Doing what I think every girl does in this situation I grabbed this opportunity with both hands and simulated that I knew what it was like to do this all the time, secretly being in awe of the fancifulness of such an invite. Meeting Mr. Cheese's father in the foyer I was quickly informed by Daddy Cheese that the whole room had heard about me and my blonde hair from him. Saying nothing more we turned and walked down the plush carpeted hall to the Presidents Lounge. Taking a seat I felt as if I had been told off and was annoyed at myself for disappointing his Dad with a blonde-bombshell expectation. Nevertheless I took the afternoon in my stride and even had a brief chat with Momma Cheese about how lovely it looked. I think she was trying to be nice. It was clear I came to that event with a tomato adorning my head. As the first course of dinner arrived I looked to Mr. Cheese for conversation but obviously he was engrossed in an already heated discussion of the football matches of the day and I knew from that point it would be a battle I would not win. Instead I noticed that the man drinking Guinness across from the table from me was looking as awkward as I felt. He was the owner of a large car restoration company whom Papa Cheese knew well and had invited both him and his wife along, although his wife kept company with Momma Cheese for the majority of the afternoon and into the evening. 

Finishing the meal just in time for a few drinks we entered the chilly air surrounding the stadium and took our seats. Not wanting Mr. Cheese's flatmate to feel out of place as a third wheel I struck up conversation about himself including all those lovely all-inclusive, first class, business trip's he gets to go on. Very envious. As the game commenced Mr. Cheese showed me some appreciated public affection with some cuddles and kisses. Watching and clapping as our home team took the lead we made small talk and enjoyed the classy atmosphere. Several times after chatting to the flatmate I would feel a little tug closer to my lover's body. A little jealous of some potential competition me thinks? I found it sweet that he wanted to protect me and keep me for himself, even if we aren't specifically exclusive - Yet. After the game we all headed back inside and this was when the evening got interesting. Under the watchful gaze of Momma Cheese I was questioned by my new-found, Guinness-loving friend about my employment and my family as well as my love-life. And yet again the dreaded question came up, ''How did you guys meet?''. 

Now whenever this occurs both Mr. Cheese and I have a plan. We understand that it is more widely accepted in the day and age that people meet online, but for kids of our age we feel that there is somewhat still a taboo that exists. Unfortunately our cover story of the butterfly bridge fist date did not work and like a dog with a bone the Guinness guzzling guy pestered until I stated we met online. It was only now I realised that the whole table was looking round at us, Master Cheese included. Blushing awkwardly and seeing that Momma and Papa had noticed as well I diverted conversation to something else. After that I felt Mr. Cheese's eye's keeping a watch on me as I continued talking to the man across me from the table. It was good to have especially when some lurid and rather blatant sexual remarks were made about my chest. I was flattered even if it was from an old man getting progressively more intoxicated by 'the black stuff'. I managed those comments well though and as a result didn't need my knight in the seat just next to me, although the squeeze of my thigh after shunning his advances did make me smile. 

As the evening drew to a close I noticed I had polished off a large bottle of wine and several strong cider's. I was drunk. and despite me slowing down on the booze it was too late the damage was done. I think I held my own though and came into my own skin, chatting and laughing at ease with people I had only just met. Sober thoughts set in as I wondered about being sick. Oh dear lord I was in front of Mr. Cheese's parents! What happens if they thought I was a alcoholic that couldn't handle a few glasses and bought me AA classes for Christmas and I don't mean for breakdown cover. I think I covered it well. I didn't fall over and I didn't make a complete tit of myself. Hopefully they will invite me again sometime. Such a wonderful afternoony-evening filled with good food, great company, flowing drinks and a great game of rugby. What girl doesn't enjoy watching hunky men run around in shorts getting muddy and hugging each other! None ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx