Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts

Monday, 6 August 2018

Blast From The Past!

Hello there, 


Sushi. Is. Life. After the past year maybe of eating shop faux Sushi made from a combination of chicken and seafood, I have finally made the leap to a mainstream sushi bar. Yo! Sushi in Milton Keynes is I am sure probably farthest from genuine and authentic and Asian or Japanese influenced cuisine, however without the luxury of the big smoke to indulge my curiosities in I was forced to seek out as close to the real thing as I can get my little mitts on, Cali-rolls and Spice-Tuna-Things for the win! 

To say that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Miss Tweedle-Dee and it was good to try new things whilst doing my favourite thing with my wages and in my preferred method or socialising, eating out. I am not quite sure what made me feel so good about sushi and hanging out with my best friend - Maybe it was the delight of combining my two favourite things or maybe it was the fact that I was feeling much better in myself. A a good catch up and long chat about anything and everything life had to offer us at the moment was certainly what I needed. Whilst my counselling and therapy has stopped for the short time whilst I am between therapists and Private Vs. NHS, I am taking my medication which seems to be doing it's job. 

Not long before we finished our meal and headed home I approach the subject that I had been wanting to bring up for a while. I felt as though my Tweedles were about the only people I could talk openly and honestly about how I felt without being judged or criticised. Not even Mr. Warehouse would understand I think?! You see waaay back in the days of short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner, there was one of the first Mr's in my life. Mr. Woof. Now let me introduce Mr. Woof to you all, (unless you have been reading along since the beginning and then you will already know who Mr. Woof well and truly is from the Viewer Discretion / NSFW earlier days of writing). 

Mr. Woof and I had been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In class and the playground, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were with me, even being seen around each other was a no-no, but away from it all and what I used to refer to as the "spotlight" he was a completely different person, almost caring or even loving in a way, something that was never shown when around others. As we got older the intensity was stepped up with more secret meets at lunch and break, soon progressing to after school and even into our Saturday morning GCSE revision classes. But the more we played with each other, both metaphorically and emotionally the more I suffered. The double life we both lead between not talking to each other and almost bullying each other whilst in the company of friends and others was a stark comparison to the electricity we shared alone. But I knew what I was doing, course I did, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The secret little affair with the boy who I had a stupidly major crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Yeah, I definitely thought I knew it all (and probably still do) thinking that it will all be so different when we leave High School and go to Sixth Form or College, we can finally be together! Haha what a fool ... 

After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners, settling down with a few serious ones who loved me no matter the company we were in. Whereas Mr. Woof attempted university, dropped out only to discovered drink and drugs all the while continuing to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Over the years he turned into something of a misogynistic womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin around town. Nevertheless though Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him and we were always strictly friends when I was in a relationship as being faithful has always been something I fiercely uphold after some hiccups in my earlier years of teenage-living and my fathers betrayal. 

Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had and at that moment the friendly voice of someone familiar was just what I craved. At the time I was amidst a messy break-up Miss Tweedle-Dee handed me the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. I. Was. Hooked. I couldn't put them down, like everyone I suppose. I decided then to embark on something of my own contract. We had come a long way from my Teenage Dreams Days and so after getting back in contact, Mr. Woof and I began another momentary lapse of loosing our inhibitions and giving into our lustfulness for something we knew so well. Only this time I had some level of control. I had just come out of a long term relationship and wanted something intimate, exciting and confidence boosting. Something NSA to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy days. I suppose in a sense he was the rebound?! When I talk about it like that it seems as though Mr. Woof was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend who was dealing with heartbreak. But I was as much to blame in that as he was. I wanted and needed attention.  I was lacking it both in my job as well as socially as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted and we weren't hurting anyone. 

After sometime however the novelty soon wore off and we again drifted apart, not through Malice or animosity but simply due to life moving off. Over the next few years of difficult dating dilemmas and finally finding someone I really care about I will be honest and say that I thought about Mr Woof less and less. Until that is the other day when I stumbled across an old social media page. I had seen his profile picture and was intrigued to see what he was up to and we had both changed. I knew that he had got married and settle down with some plain-Jane type. I was certainly not prepared for what was to come. 

Clicking the pages on his social media I discovered that not only had he propose and dedicated his life in marriage, but that he now had a child. Knocking me sideways I was taken aback. I don't know, it is not that I am jealous of his wife and young family, far from it and if anything I am glad that he has found his calling in life as a Dad. Maybe it was the fact that in all of our time together, on or off, we had never discussed marriage or kids, even if the intention was not each other. Then again he is a man and they do not tend to discuss marriage for kids as women do. It is just a little surreal for me to think that someone I thought would never even get married or settle down with anyone is now a father and husband. Oh how things change I suppose. 

It has been playing on my mind a lot over the last few days since finding out last week and I just can't put my finger on it. But as I explained in depth and detail, more than I have here to you, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me with a strange expression played across her face as the sushi Carousel continue unknowingly. She didn't need to tell me twice that I was sounding weird and creepy. I came away from our short and brief conversation about Mr. Woof and his family with a heaviness in my heart knowing that time is inevitably ticking along and will soon catch up with me if I am not careful and seeing someone I knew happy makes me feel a little weird about adulting now in the real world. Ahhh someone take me back to the simpler days of Emo bands, short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Monday, 19 October 2015

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Nostalgia!

Hello Dear's, 

So after last week, sunning it up in the not-so-party-town of Kavos on the Greek island of Corfu I am glad to be back in the swing of things here at home in England. I have settled back into reality nicely and with the build up to Christmas well on its way I am excited more than ever for what the coming weeks are going to be bringing me in terms of socialising and fun-times. 

Although last week was a chance for me to indulge myself in music with friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. A chance to escape back to the days of school, exams and secret rendezvous with class mates after the bell had rung! Back to the days before rent was due and my desk was seeing more of me than my little flat. Back then the walls of my bedroom were plastered with posters of Indie boy bands and "Emo" musicians. I was a fully fledged "Emo" with long hair, blacked eyes and a taste for the dark side. One band that adorned my bedroom and many a front cover of school text books was a band called Fall Out BoyNow you have been warned, this is me going into full blown fan-girl mode, so watch out!

So ... Super hot cutie, Patrick Stump, heads up the band and has been playing the role commonly known as Fat-Pat (or at least in my friend circle) since before I became obsessed with them in 2007/2008. Also in the band is Penis-show-off, Pete Wentz (Penis Picture can be seen here for those that did not get enough of it last time). Other Fall Out Boy members also include that awesome drummer, Andy Hurley, who looks strangely like my first boyfriend Mr. Ginge and not to forget Tim Burton Wanna-Be, Guitarist Joe Trohman (the resemblance is uncanny). They were formed back in America somewhere probably when I was still running around with my hair in pigtails and singing something by Aqua

Several years later I find myself singing the lyrics to songs I just knew were written for me and my teenage angsty love affairs with boys who never noticed me. Those albums and songs bonded me and my father in a united passion of rock and punk as he also had a love of the dark side, and with bands such as Green Day and ACDC playing a role in my Dad's life growing up, they also formed a part of mine. But were a misunderstood bunch us Emo, Scene-Kid, Goth, and many other variants are all seen in the same line as freaks and outcasts from society, at least that's how I saw and felt it back in school. My friend circle back then was a mixture of all sorts of young people that didn't fit into the normal stereotypes of school - The Geeks, The Jocks, The Preps, The Populars. I and my friends were none of those. So we took ahold of a small bit of land near the library and called ourselves The Unwanted. 

Nevertheless I grew up from those days with a clear outline of what I wanted from life but more importantly who I was and who I am inside. I am a rock chick through and through and when faced with any opportunity of going out on the town, even to this very day, I don a thick black smokey eye. So I suppose music did in a way shape my future as well as my past and the band called Fall Out Boy was a massive part of it. So of course I was over the moon and back with joy when I found out that my girlie's, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had not only bought me tickets to go and see Dreamboys (this coming Friday and to be widely discussed next week) but also tickets to see my beloved Fall Out Boy

Belting out the lyrics to Sugar Were Going Down and Dance Dance, standing in an extremely hot and sweaty Wembley Arena next to my best-est friends in the whole wide world I knew that I had grown up a lot since the last time I saw Fall Out Boy live. Much had happened since the last time I had seen there face as again part of special birthday outing. But this time I felt much older than some of the other teeny-bops there. Which got me wondering ... Should I hang up the fingerless leather gloves and throw dinner parties instead of heading out out? Naah!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Monday, 17 August 2015

Teenage Dreams!

Hello Fellow Humans, 

I have finished with my Googling of Teeth Fetish's and Horny Dental Nurse Porn. Instead I have set my sights the bookshelf of my youth. Ahh yes, my teenage diaries!


I shall invite you this evening into the world of Pre-TATOATS. A universe before the wonderment of college and complicated-ness of adult life as I know it now. First entry is from 2008, a year I remember for all the wrong reasons; Turning seventeen, getting my first boyfriend, first girls holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Prom, Finishing School, Exams and my parents divorce, not to mention what the subsequent months entailed ... 


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01 January 2008
Dear Diary, 
OMG! First day of 2008 and I sat on my bum and did nothing all day. Well not all day but hey-ho! I made a video for Miss Tweedle-Dee (yes I have known her that long!) about Miss Tweedle-Dee. I also watched The Mighty Boosh (of which I am still an avid fan!) and wow it is actually amazzzzing! I love The Mighty Boosh and I love Noel Fielding. He is fit!  Noel Fielding is the best thing ever and I want his babies! Anyway, as I was saying. January. I have lots of things planned already like seeing Elliot Minor (some unknown, unsigned student emo-band I used to be into that apparently made it big!?). So New Years Day means New Years Resolutions which in turn mean that I will make stupid, pathetic little rules about life that I will attempt to follow and yet after two weeks fail miserably and be found in the corner of my music class scoffing galaxy chocolate and lusting after Mr. Woof (yes and him!) as per usual! OMG! that first sentence was so gay?! LOL! (my twenty-year-old self is still impressed with how much Sass I had back then!)
9pm - OK so now I am upstairs and upset. I am so fucked off right now! Stupid brother and his provoking attitude. Little dick splash. Who does he think he is winding me up like that. Needs to grow some pubes the little Knob Stain! Grrrr!

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13 February 2008
Dear Diary, 
So right now I am sitting on my bed listening to my devil of a brother sing The hills are alive. Well I wish they were alive so they would swallow you whole you pathetic little worm. Also went to town today with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I am really glad as I think I unearthed some home-truths. She said that I bounce from Guy to Guy and am a bit of a pinball when it comes to boys, latching myself onto them and getting hurt. Maybe this is because I have never had a proper boyfriend before or been in a real relationship. I hate to say it but I think she is right. (safe to say that my teenage years only reflected directly onto my twenties love-life)

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14 April 2008
Dear Diary, 
Well today has been boring! Although it has gone rather fast and unusually exciting! OMGLOL! PMSL! ROTFL! LMAO! OK so I am walking home from school and I glance over and see Mr. Prom (a guy I fancied in the first year of High school, went off him for a while and then fell in love with him just before Prom, asked him to be my date at prom, he agreed, we flirted for a while but he never came Prom shopping with me and we didn't get round to sorting anything out for the big night so we never went to Prom together. He became Prom King, some bitch became Prom Queen and I think he is now studying Fitness and playing Rugby at University somewhere in Kent!). Then I hear as I turn away and smile subtly him sing beautifully that song from Pretty Women. I mean Wow! I'm in love! I heart R.C!

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02 June 2008
Dear Diary, 
Nicola (whoever she was) is such a bitch-whore! (at this point teen-me has drawn a picture of a stick man with a hairy bearded fact and wearing a skirt with a dick popping out) God I hate her so much! Apparently I am doing my new job as a school cleaner all wrong and not doing it properly! Well fuck you shit head! (Ahh yes now I know who Nicola was. She was my boss at the time. Large lady with Ginger frizzy hair like Merida from Disney's Brave. We all have those days at work don't we, even now I call people Bitch-whores in my head!)

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25/26 July 2008

Dear Diary, 
So off on holiday today to fucking France yet again (Despite me booking a holiday to Lyon in August this year with Mr. Warehouse - Clearly wasn't that bad!?) but at least this time I am with my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dumb. So once we were on the Ferry and Mom, Dad and Brat Brother had pissed off to find some crappy-shitty reclining chairs, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I thought we would do an all nighter. As we were on the deck though. Haha Poop Deck - LOL. Yeah so as we were on Deck watching the ocean we saw these two guys. Daring Dan and Magic Marc were their names. After stalking them for a while we got chatting. OMG! Dan is so cute (at later glances though I can assure you he was not!) and I think he is well into me (Definitely wasn't as I later found out through Myspace.com that he had a girlfriend)! What could possibly prepare Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I for what happened next. No we didn't have sex! Although I was so ready! (Haha, no I wasn't I was like sixteen and couldn't spell sex if I tried) Once we had stalked and captured our prey Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took them to a secluded, dark and derelict part of the ship (No, not a ship, a ferry). Then IT happened! Dan was spewing some shit about how he gave free hugs (a Japanese thing that I think we all did at school as an excuse to let off some steam and grope one another) but also kisses for a pound. But me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were "Skint" so we were allowed free ones. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was pounced upon with no warning. I was given a more gentle and slow passionate snog! OMG! He was a good kisser. Top five maybe! He was sooo cute about it. "Hair" he said to me as he pulled the hairs from my face and went in for the kill (as if this bloke was some kind of fucking vampire!?). Not gonna lie I have a super big crush on him and his Stars and Straps Hi-Tops! OMFG! He is so scene! Best Holiday ever! (Until years later we went on the first holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Fuerteventura)

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Ahh What I didn't know was round the corner was yet more heart ache, but also fun and frivolous times ahead. As if there wasn't enough already!


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Monday, 13 July 2015

Home Town Glory!

Morning Everybody, 

So after last weeks debacle in regards to when would be the right time to move in with someone, Mr. Warehouse or anyone else of romantic intent that is, I decided to have the talk with Mr. Warehouse himself, slightly prompted by a deep meaningful conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a rather odd dream involving a perverted man and some snide comments from my father over dinner. All is well that ends well and I am glad to say that both Mr. Warehouse and myself are on the same page when it comes to our living arrangements and are more than happy with how things are right now! If it ain't broke they say, don't fix it. 

Then again speaking of fixing stuff - Remember that long and drawn out saga with British Gas? Well nearly twelve weeks on and I have discovered that I am on the brink of a breakthrough. After much speculation on my £2,000.00 bill and pressure from unscrupulous and supposedly 'helpful' case handlers I have now been fitted (or my flat should I say, Haha) with a new electronic smart meter which I have now left running for a fortnight and tomorrow I shall take my first reading. Hopefully this one will be accepted and I will be able to see the light at the end of my energy-draining tunnel, and who knows, maybe even some compensation!

A right resulting week with what should have been a cracking weekend spent with back home in the blazing sunshine! But after finishing work on Friday and attending a doctors appointment only to find out that I actually have Seasonal Asthma (and yes apparently that is a 'thing') I was not in the best of moods. Tired and hungry I wanted my bed and cuddles the the Boyf. But the medical pa-lavas weren't over yet as Saturday afternoon I stepped outside, Mr. Warehouse in-toe, ready to face ... The Dentist! But as we neared the surgery I could feel my heart racing and pounding to get out of my chest. Squeezing Mr. Warehouse's hands tight I stared up at the tall brick building in front of me. It looked like a house. "It probably was" I thought, optimistic at the thought of a little Georgian family living there with the Nanny and little lap dog. "Yeah, a house of doom!" the other side of my mind said as my imagination played out thunderstorms and lightning cracking above the surgery, raining and with a deathly cold look about it! Suddenly I was snapped out of my daydream and was asked by Mr. Warehouse if I was going in or just viewing form the outside. Reluctantly I took my first steps inside a Dentist surgery since I was sixteen. Haha, a lot has changed since then. I have lost my virginity for one, shaken off the shackles of my overbearing mother and moved into my own little palace in the clouds all with a few broken hearts, tears and laughter along the way not to mention a while tonne of growing up to do. Yes, so much had changed. But the way I felt about the Dentist was not something that had altered. I still hated it. The smell. The noise. The odd tasting water. Nope. I was not a Dental Fetish kinda gal! 

After speaking to the receptionist, who to be fair was not anything like out of the Addams Family, I was informed I was more than forty-minutes early for my appointment. With the look to Mr. Warehouse about venturing outside for a look along some shops I was given a stern look back, needless to say that I was staying put. In all fairness I think if I had left it would be doubtful that I would come back. After a relaxing half-hour or so in the waiting room of the homely surgery I was called upstairs. Climbing the wooden, creaking staircase I worried about the people whom had come here before and never made it out alive. I was being silly though. Upon entering the spacious room I was greeted by a lovely lady who sat me down and discussed all my fears before rooting around in my gob. Now I wont lie, it wasn't the worst thing in the world and not as bad as I expected granted but with one cracked, half-tooth on my left upper jaw and a filling to sort out I knew that I would have to come back for some more treatments. Haha! Treatments they call them - As if it some sort of fucking day spa! And in all fairness it bloody should have been at those prices. NHS Service in England is free at the point of use for anyone whom needs it says the government website. But they can fuck that up their fucking arses! A scrap, a poke and £51.20 later I have an appointment booked for the beginning of August and whilst my teeth may not be in bad shape, my purse certainly was! Bugger me this National Health Service malarkey is crap! I pay my taxes, pay my way and earn my money and I still have to pay for my dental bills and prescriptions! Bleeding joke if you ask me?!

On with the day I thought and after visiting my grandfather who yet again was in hospital due to yet more ill health (He usually resides in a very nice £900.00 a week care home back in Luton - Again something that my taxes are being put to good use on!? Hmmm). Rounding off the day though and entering into the evening Mr. Warehouse and I embarked on an evening with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family and a few close friends which I would class as my second Mommy and Daddy. A home from home you may say. But as the evening rolled on, BBQ blazing, shots being poured and cheese board brought out it was time for Mr. Warehouse and I to catch our last bus home of the night. Making sure we were at the bus stop in plenty of time we waited a further twenty-minutes for yet more of my taxes to arrive. When it did I stated where Mr. Warehouse and I were heading and the driver nodded and allowed us to board. But after a few minutes of our journey beginning we were asked to depart. Why? Because apparently it was the end of the line. As I stopped to enquire as to why we were told that the bus goes all the way to Luton train station, I soon found out that Mr. Warehouse and I were just palmed off and were promptly told to look at the other bus boards for the next one. And with that the doors shut and he drove away. With is being Edi in the local area, I knew we would be hard pushed to get a cab, and especially at gone midnight. But after calling round a few, with limited signal in the area we stood in the middle of my home-town a cab finally pulled up. Taking our chances and knowing how dodgy it was to get into a cab that wasn't pre-booked Mr. Warehouse and I took our chances and hopped in. After reeling from the double figured cab journey price totalling over fifteen of my English pounds we reluctantly paid and were on our way. 

Arriving at Luton station I was greeted with yet more good news. As Mr. Warehouse asked why there were numerous coached parked outside the station I noticed from the corner of my eye streams and streams of people evacuating the train and walking along the platform and out of the station to the waiting coaches. Ahh yes. The rail-replacement! How could I have known. So perfect to end this evening on a cunting bus filed to the brim of clubbers and party-goers wearing next to nothing and the majority of them loud. Continuing the party I noticed one of the scantily clad blonde bimbo's was someone I used to car-share with regularly at my last job working in Credit Control. I wondered if I should say hello, but given my mood, and how our relationship was left I think it was best for all parties if I just turned my head and pretended that I never saw that scratchy whining little voice. As the bus pulled off I was duly informed by a very tired Mr. Warehouse that not only was he on the brink of following through on one of his many wet farts of the evening so far, but that he also had major travel sickness and didn't deal well with huge crowds and being sat on an over crowded and cramped coach full of them. 

Finally we arrived home at nearly 2am, more than £100.00 light from the weekend and with very, very tired heads. We didn't wake the following morning until gone midday and even then we only really made it out to the shops for provisions and TV snacks. But suffice to say that sometimes I don't need to look far for inspirational writing. Safe to say that it wasn't how I imagined Mr. Warehouse's first experience of my home-town to be, but then again, it wouldn't be home without the mishaps. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Monday, 15 June 2015

Souvenirs D'Adolescent

Bonjour, 

Comment ca va? Ca va bien. Apologies for the French opening to this week's post but I am just sooo excited! So as if living the American dream in Las Vegas this March with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a matter of weeks ago we booked our annual Budget-Budget holiday to the once party island of Kavos in Greece. And as if that wasn't enough for one little globe-trotter I have also booked a cheeky holiday with Mr. Warehouse too. And that is where the French comes in as we are off too Lyon!

Now don't get me wrong I am stoked for lilo-ing in the swimming pool of mine, Miss Tweedle-Dee's, Miss Tweedle-Dumb's apartment and finding real life human faeces on the steps of our chalet not to mention the crazy nights out whereby a mixture of Scottish bars, Whitney Houston, meat sweats and copious amounts of foreign alcohol lead to what can only be known now as 'The Butter Floor' incident. But that frolicking is over one-hundred days away. And whilst my last  boyfriend I went on holiday with decided to dump me several months later I feel that this one is different. Maybe its the fact that I have slaved over numerous holiday, hotel and flight websites looking for a getaway that is under two-hundred quid. It proved a struggle to find something that ticked all off mine and Mr. Warehouse's boxes - Under £200.00, in August, outside of term time, in the summer holidays and over the course of a bank holiday weekend. Yes it was an absolute struggle that had brought us to tears (literally) but finally we have found somewhere. 

Booking a flight from London Luton Airport to Lyon Saint-Exupery Airport for a five-night, relatively budgeted break away was just what we both needed, Mr. Warehouse more-so I think than my passport wielding self. You see with limited money we couldn't afford to go somewhere like Barcelona, Rome or Paris as I had hoped, let alone New York or something more exotic. But my interest in France stemmed from a long childhood spending my summers there on holidays with my family have left me feeling in need of the French lifestyle over the last few years. I want something sophisticated and sexy from a holiday with a Lover. Somewhere we can throw ourselves into and immerse ourselves with good food, great scenery and a wonderful passion for each other. I know it never worked out in my last holiday with a partner but I am hoping to rectify that although it does scare me to pieces that the same thing might happen again. At least I wont be going with Mr. Workaholics overpowering mother whom acts far from the age she was.

France was somewhere my family and I used to holiday regularly, and by regularly I mean like every sodding year from the age of six or seven until my parents divorce nearly eight years ago now. At the time I was too preoccupied with boys, friends and other teenage things to really appreciate the fact that while I got to go on holiday to the French Eastern Coast and Riviera my friends got to go on seemingly lavish holidays to Florida, Greece and Spain. Secretly I was jealous but now I am thankful for the many years I spent travelling around Northern Europe with my family, exploring places such as France, Belgium, Holland and Germany as well as my native country, Britain. That aside, I am more than excited about returning to somewhere I nearly called Mon Mansion! (Yes my parents nearly bought a second home there with the intention to emigrate and have us sent to much better French schools). I have downloaded an learning languages app on my phone, ordered a tonne of Breton stripped T-shirts and am preparing myself for a whole lot of food consumption. 

However, as I write to you now I am becoming increasingly sidetracked and unfocused as I am now surrounded with my adolescent diaries from years 2006 onwards and so have now rediscovered just how hilarious I once was. The thoughts of a littler me have me in stitches and as I now conclude today's post with an extract dated Tuesday 25th March 2008 I think to myself that maybe I shall post some more extracts one day. But for now I shall share with you a little part of sixteen-year-old A.Lou:

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"Dear Diary, 
Wow! You know if and when I find the right guy in High school, which I think I have its just amazing to find out that he just keeps surprising you with interesting facts you did not know about him. Number One - He rides a bike. One of the most sexiest, no, the most sexiest things a male can do is ride something macho. Wow! Number Two - He watches Skins which to some extent explains why we are compatible and are just meant to be together. Number Three - His hair looks so cute when its all fluffy and unbrushed like sex hair. Or Fuck hair. Yeah that sounds better, Fuck hair. Uhh Fuck Yeah Fuck hair. Anyhoo so intervention at school today was boring as hell but meh. I was interested slightly by a different reason to come into school. 
Lots of Love, Night Night :) xx"

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Established male-enthusiast since 1991 ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx