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Hello There,
Finishing a long and uneventful week at work I donned some orange lippy and made my way out into the thick warm air of a late Friday afternoon in June. This is not like Britain I thought to myself as usually June is a rainy month whereby we are reaching for the wellies not the wayfarers - Uh I love a good pair of wayfarers! Any way. The reasons for my summery ensemble was due to the fact I was off to the Henlow Dog Races with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little sister, who really is not so little any more at the ripe old age of eighteen.
Arriving at the racecourse parched and promptly on time in fact early, which is odd for me, I waited for the little blue bubble car to speed round the corners of the Bedfordshire countryside. Soon enough there it was, best friend at the wheel with her passengers waving eagerly. Excited I skipped over to where they were parked, nearly falling over on the gravel in my long orange skirt. Welcoming them and striking up conversation I sensed that a long week had finally come to an end for all of us and the luxury of the weekend was finally upon us, if you can call our plans for the weekend anything but luxurious! Settling down with our race cards and bets placed we watched as the svelte greyhounds whizzed round the tracks chasing after an unconvincing looking Hare wearing what appeared to be either an eighties styled bomber jacket or just a Hi-Vis work men's vest. Laughing away at inside jokes and the other people around us I felt somewhat uneasy given the last time we had all been together under my intervention. Nevertheless I put the thought to the back of my mind and did what I do best, smile and pretend that I'm not at least a little bit lost inside. I thought to myself as we stood beside amorous couples that Dog racing would be a good idea for a date; Maybe not the first date, but maybe a second. The thrill of the pounding paws, the yells and screams from betters and handlers alike, the celebratory hugs and kisses and the commiserating cuddles would be the perfect way to get just that little bit closer to them. Hmmm ...
Finishing the night overall with a win of under a tenner between the four of us we headed home, pockets empty and sides stitched from laughing. Saturday morning I made my way to Leagrave where I met up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and after briefly stopping by at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we headed out to lunch. Pulling into Buddies we were all looking forward to engorging ourselves on towered-high burgers and sticky BBQ ribs. And we were not to be disappointed. On entering the establishment I noted of the all-American diner paraphernalia mimicking that of a 1950's roadside stop along Route 66. My thoughts couldn't help but turn to the Vegas trip I was never invited on and how I wish that whilst I plan to save in time to go, I still will never know if I was really ever fully invited. Nevertheless, we were soon greeted by a young waitress who showed us to our table which happened to be across from a first date with a difference. These first-dater's were not in their 20's or 30's, not even in their 70's or 80's. They were probably not even eleven and with the accompaniment of their watchful mothers on the other side of the eatery they were engaging in their first experiences of the dating scene. Eyes glazing over as I watched them from the corner of my vision, I pandered as to how simple it all was and how I longed for the simplicity in my own love-life.
Hunger avenged Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I, so after scanning the menu as we had all week at our desks we ordered the recommended ribs and a burger each. Three burgers, two cheesy chips and a soda float later we were ready for our beds. But we had to buy them first. Yes! Myself and the Tweedles had come to the conclusion that if we plan to scrap our annual debauchery that is our Summer Holiday and brave the bog that is Reading Festival 2014 then we should probably get familiar with our home for those five days. After purchasing a tent earlier in the week all we needed to do was put it up and fill it. Easier said that done I can tell you. We finally finally left Buddies and headed to the shops narrowly avoiding Miss Tweedle-Dumb's attempts to throw up that heart attack lunch of a sugared-ring-doughnut-burger-hold-the-lettuce. Racing through the aisles I had no idea what the rush was. The I knew. The shopping list that I had compiled was now unachievable due to the lack of stock. I needed a role mat (Although I am not quite sure why I bought one that was so thin I could pretty much make sushi out of) and a camping chair and a sleeping bag. I chose not to buy a chair for I know I could probably find one cheaper online, however the sleeping bag situation was voided as there was only two left and guess who got there first! And so as I arrived at the check-out, friends spiting my lack of purchases I bought a role mat that I knew would be useless and some confectionery that added up to more than the foamy bed itself. I think I knew then what sort of night I was in for I just didn't realise how much of a night it would really be. Flopping onto the sofa at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we watched some trash TV until the weather had cooled slightly enough that we could put the tent up easier. More than an hour and a half later and we had finally erected our abode, although the occupancy of bugs and creepy crawlies was not appreciated. David Attenborough we are not, so take your six legs and exoskeleton bodies to the outside of our blue villa of canvas and be gone! Note to self: BUY BUG SPRAY!
Due to my late night the previous evening and succession of late evenings prior to that I slowly slipped into a slumber on the black stickiness that is a leather sofa in the lounge of Miss Tweedle-Dee's front room. However this was not to last as Miss Tweedle-Dumb thought that it would be a good idea to spank me awake! Aha yes, the wonders of a girlie sleepover! After abruptly waking me we proceeded to order some food only to discover that when the man arrived with my chicken, chips and sauce that he refused to give me the right change. Standing there on the doorstep of a house I had known all my life, wearing a jumper loaned to me by the occupier of such premises I continued to row with the delivery driver regarding the one, singular English pound he owed me. I did not get it and was told to consult my on-line booking of said order. Slamming the door and now in an increased fowl mood from being woken to not being given my money back, I called the takeaway company to have a pop. I was told that someone would deliver my change right away and that the duty manager would call me back the following day. I did not receive my Great British Pound and it is safe to say that more that forty-eight hours on, I shall not be getting a phone call back from the duty manager either. Tired and full of chicken and chips, myself and the girls prepared for bedding down in the tent. After nearly coming to blows with Miss Tweedle-Dee regarding my pungent pumps I climbed into my pod like a bear with a sore head. Thinking it would be a good idea, Miss Tweedle-Dee decided that the wilderness of a back yard in Dunstable was the place to start telling ghost stories. I recalled an event in Miss Tweedle-Dee's brother's house a few years back after Mr. Workaholic and I separated whereby my feet were held by an unknown entity and in turn made them flash freezing cold then burn constantly red hot. An odd occurrence for most, but I have always felt as if there is something there watching over me or with me. Maybe not all the time but sometimes she will be made known. I say she as I get the impression she is an old lady who just wants to have a little fun with the living. I humour her sometimes although I wish she would use some of her special spooky skills to make better my lactose situations of late.
After a restless nights sleep I awoke with some odd flashing memoirs of a unicorn yelling about mildew as a dark figure tried to get to the toilet without wetting themselves. Turns out that it was just Miss Tweedle-Dumb wearing her Unicorn onesie and Miss Tweedle-Dee screaming about the condensation build-up preventing her to making it to Brown-Town. Oh what a fun night we had in our tent of dreams! Safe to say that sitting in the blistering heat of a Sunday afternoon, sipping on wine and munching on juicy black cherries we needed to make some improvements to our up coming festival experience. So what have we learnt this weekend; Air beds are now mandatory, tents are best put up by girls not boys and never trust a man from a chicken shop when he says he will come back with your change!
This weekend also taught me other things too. I now understand that things are never great and that sometimes the ground in which you lay is rough and bumpy and hard. You have to try out the role mats in life before you make improvements and as humans that's just how we learn. So maybe the same can be applied when meeting with Mr. Cheese on Wednesday this week. And yes, there is a very good reason I have not mentioned him in this week's post up until now. Things are detrimental and I am struggling to cling onto the last shred of what we have left. I shall not say too much and ruin what has been an enjoyable evening writing to you all but for now I'm holding my head above the water and staving off that all too familiar sickening feeling knowing that with every hour that ticks by I await the fate of my relationship that is swinging terrifyingly in the balance ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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