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Hello There,
And so after ten long months waiting and many, many times of myself fighting back the high of endorphins and dopamine after a bedroom workout I was thrilled to hear that Mr. Cheese loves me! And yes I was not false in my hopes or wrong in my hearing of the phrase for Mr. Cheese said it again over the weekend after a wonderful sunny Saturday as we lay on the trampoline in his huge garden at his families home in the country. As we lay underneath the fading sky, watching bats skit across our focus my dearest Mr. Cheese informed me for the second time that it was not a mistake and that for the first time since Miss Cardboard Box he loved someone else. Me. Little old me. The same old me that has been doubting our relationship from the very beginning. The very same person that blurted out the same phrase on the platform of Victoria Underground all those many moons ago last year. Yes. I think it is safe to say that life is somewhat better now that we have found bliss.
Speaking of blissful moments stolen together it was some of the shared moments with Mr. Cheese's family that made me ponder my future with them and him. Now obviously you are not all to rush out and buy your hat's just yet, although I feel that things could be a lot more simpler now I'm looking at the relationship in a new light. I suppose if there is one thing that Mr. Workaholic taught me it was that life is unpredictable and that you can spend years building the foundations to your future only to have someone torch them before your very eyes with the only thing you can do is to sit back and watch all your hopes and dreams burn to the ground. I like Mr. Cheese although sitting in the adults lounge at the front of the fully detached cottage, snuggled into my darling watching the nail-biting cup final between Arsenal and Hull sipping on wine I glanced over to the rest of his perfect family imagining how I could fit right in here. Pappa Cheese in just his underpants (Not joking!), Momma Cheese tending to her boys making sure they were well taken care of, Mr. Cheese and his brothers fooling around and acting like the kids they are. It made me yearn for something as idealistic as that in years to come. Looking back on my weekend, what with its glorious weather and idyllic snatched moments its hard to think that this was all amongst yet another raging argument with the Tweedles.
On the other hand though I thought about the family I have. Or had. Whatever way you look at it family is important. Probably one of the most important things in life. No. The Most important thing in life. Without family you are nothing. Without family there is no you. Although reflecting on my own is hard given the separation of my parents and breakdown of said family unit I think only makes me want one of my own that is better and stronger than ever. As the sun shone in through the roof light in the large kitchen of Mr. Cheese's family home I helped chop and prepare the salad. Conversation with Momma Cheese alone turned to my own maternal connection (or the lack of one) and the question was finally asked. When answering the question of why I never speak of my own mother arises I always have to be careful and slightly coy about how I tell the person asking the question. I knew that with four boisterous lads on the loose in and out of the kitchen I didn't have much time and so the extended edition was spared. I could tell that whilst Momma Cheese was itching to know the answer why, she was also very sweetly anxious as to not upset me. I explained simply as I had a million times before that whilst coming into constant conflict with her for my entire life, after my parents divorce my mother simply couldn't stand the fact that I wanted to see my father and so as a result threw me out. It was harder this time seeing the shock on Momma Cheese's face as I could tell it is something that even in her worst night terrors she could never dream of doing the same to her four boys. And almost as if right on cue the youngest of the Cheese brothers appeared with a question about dinner and my passed was soon just floating words soon to evaporate and be replaced by love and laughter.
All was not plain sailing this weekend though as I almost got caught up stream without a paddle - Don't worry these jokes will soon make sense! Seeing two silvery fish wrapped up in a plastic bag on the kitchen counter, I boasted about how my own father had taught me how to gut and prepare fish for cooking and since the Cheese's were having a BBQ I decided to gloat a little more than usual in anticipation that the sea creatures contained in the freezer bag were already fully ready for the Barbie. On closer inspection to the deceased critters I realised that whilst they were very much dead, (I washed them and whilst no one was watching played with them pretending I was Ariel the little mermaid and that these were my companions! Yes I know I'm sad!) They were fully in-tacked biologically. Not wanting to look like a tit and trying desperately to show how amazing I am in the kitchen I chopped off the heads of my underwater friends, cut off their tails and fins, and finally ripped out their insides! Giving them a after-life massage with some lemon, salt and pepper I wrapped them in a towel of tin foil and stuck them in the fire pit for all of about five minutes. Its OK though they had three skewers of prawn-y pal's to keep them company whilst they steamed away. I was very impressed with myself and they tasted wonderful.
And goodness me the faux pas didn't begin their either as Friday night we all congregated at a posh local restaurant with the whole Cheese family out to celebrate Pappa Cheese's birthday. Apparently he is near to sixty but I myself cannot see how this is possible since both Momma and Pappa Cheese look so young. Very confusing. Nevertheless the moment come when I had to break the seal. choosing y moment carefully I politely excused myself from the table and made my way across the tinie-weenie restaurant floor to a door in which I thought would lead to a entrance and lavatories. I was taken aback however after entering through said door and noticing that it was an extension of the establishment and tonight was hosting a meeting. Obviously very important and not wanting to disturb such pressing matters I asked shyly where the toilets were. They looked at me with utter disgrace and contempt. The faces stared at me. I stared back. It was a tense battle of wills and I was literally shitting myself. After what seemed like an eternity of angry looks one spokesperson pointed to a door across the room and motioned me to go and inform me that I should not call them toilets I should call them lavatories. Not wanting to upset or disturb the committee any further I hurried along passed the glares. Only as I turned my back to leave I heard a little voice within the group of obvious villagers piped up and whisp-squeeked (Across between squeaking and whispering) "She called them toilets!" To which nearly made me wet myself right there and then. As I sat on said throne I took a moment to realise what had actually in real-life, really happen. Not only had I used the incorrect phrase to describe such an act of nature but I had also just walked in and through what can only be seen as a regular meeting held by the Federation of Fouling. Other witty names I came up with at the table included 'The Toilet Committee' and the 'Poo Police' - All of which gave at least a chuckle when I explained what was on the other side of the rightly coloured, brown door. Although on later reflection I realise now that they were all involved with SHITT - the Society Held In Toilet Terminology.
Laughs and giggles aside now though as I have a hectic week ahead of me! Tomorrow I am meeting up with Miss Chocolate to hear all about her life and liaisons. then on Friday is the first wedding of a friend - The marriage of Miss Bride and her fiancé whom I have both known for years and are a wonderful couple. Sunday I have the joy of spending it with my favourite ladies, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Stuu for a lovely, hopefully sunny day out in Brighton for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Birthday! A busy weekend jam-packed with family, friends and fun. Finally though after what seems like forever I have a normal social life again. And this time it even includes some regular exercise.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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