Bonjour,
So after last weekend's fun and frolicking I felt as though I needed a weekend at home in my flat. With washing piling up alongside the washing up and numerous household chores to do I knew that although I should probably make some time to see my granddad, especially after recent events last weekend.
And after a cosy Friday night and all day Saturday days lounging around on the sofa and watching crap telly with Mr. Warehouse I decided to get off me' bum and meet the Tweedle's in Bedford town centre for some Coffee and Cake. As all four of us pottered round town we became bored with window shopping and Mr. Warehouse lead us all to a wonderful little Ice-Cream Parlour in one of the many back streets and alley ways. Upon entering The Gallones Ice Cream Emporium I felt a huge pressure from all the wonderful flavours. From Salted Caramel to Blueberry Muffin I was overwhelmed by flavours, toppings and sauces not to mention the waffles and crepes. So when making my choice I felt it was only right to kick off the five-week countdown to mine and Mr. Warehouse's holiday to Lyon with a crepe, sprinkled with toffee fudge pieces, drizzled in warm caramel sauce, squirted two cream-puff flowers and blobbed two big scoops of ice-cream; One Tiramisu and the other Espresso Choc-Chip all topping a warm and folded crepe. Haha, if that isn't food porn I don't know what is!
After indulging ourselves more than we should do before a weigh in the following morning I suggested given the fact it was raining something horrible, that we all go back to my place and warm up with some hot chocolate and a good old Disney Film. All in agreement we set off and bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little blue car. After switching on the engine and pulling off as normal there was a massive "Clunk". Stopping the car, we all got out and looked around the car. Had we blown a tyre? Had we just ran over an empty bottle that had popped? Had we hit something? Nothing seemed to be amiss, until that is Mr. Warehouse found a piece of metal in the shape of a horseshoe left in the lonely car parking space we had just vacated. Theorising that it had just come off the car there was nothing left to do but to give the little motor a thorough whizz round the multi-story. Realising that there was now a clunky, tick noise coming from the front axle every time the car turned left or right I had said that the best thing to do would be drive it back to mine, park it up and call breakdown.
Chucking it down with rain we finally arrived at my abode and whilst my besties fretted over how they would get home and what the state of the driver would be who would come to recover them, Mr. Warehouse scaled the car for any other further damage and generally tried to look as manly as can be, which is not exactly hard given his stature. Finally admitting defeat we all scrambled inside and up the four flights of stairs to my penthouse apartment. Offering everyone teas and coffees and generally everything to warm us all up and lift our moods. Calling the breakdown company, Miss Tweedle-Dumb was told it would take anywhere between ninty-minutes and two-hours for someone to come and rescue them. Fortunately they weren't stranded on the roadside of the A6 in the pouring rain. happy for their company for a few more hours than expected we settled in for natter and some crappy background TV. But as the hours past there was still no pick up. Calling numerous times I could see Mr. Warehouse giving me the eyes as if to say he was wasting away, but with my friends almost on the brink of going home to their own dinners I put off cooking mine and Mr. Warehouse's just yet. That was until gone seven in the evening, more than three hours after Miss Tweedle-Dumb called the RAC Breakdown people.
After much persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I decided to start cooking, asking them both constantly if they were hungry or cold or thirsty. I wanted them, like everyone who visits me at home to feel happy and content and comfortable, even if the situation is made worse by silly corporate giants with no human empathy. Soon enough the boredom kicked in and after the usual thing my friends and I do to pass the time culminating in rummaging through my sex toys, reading extracts of my teenage diaries and playing Pictionary as well as the obvious - Dancing round mops like were in Magic Mike XXL which we recently went to go and see (Absolutely incredible! Take a spare pair of knickers, you will need it after this film! Everyone must get up right now and go and see it. Man, women, dog, chicken, lamp-post, you all need to enrich your lives by seeing Channing Tatum getting down and dirty to a song that sings about the cookie monster!).
Finally after much minute using, argument infusing, stress taking, call-centre-shouting, and near-to-tear spilling hours (nine to be precise) my little Tweedles were off home. All of our evenings wasted to some extent. But I suppose on a lighter note, we all got to spend some QT with each other and out of all of this my dear friend Miss Tweedle-Dumb can now get lots of compensation for the horrendous way she was treated and as a warning to those whom find themselves under a motorway lamp reading this in the rain as you too have broken down somewhere cold, rainy and wet - Don't buy breakdown cover with the RAC!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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