Hand(luggage), Face(mask), Space(-d out sun loungers)

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last weeks McDonalds brekkies, Bottomless brunches and heavenly crepes, I have not exactly been going in the right direction when it comes to my newly started Slimming World Journey. I get that everyone has put on a pound (or twelve) during the whole Lockdown thing, however I think if anything, and maybe it is the age thing talking now - I just dont give a fuck. I enjoyed last weekend so much so I think I have realised that yes, whilst I, like most people, need to eat more fruit and veggies and maybe move a bit more, I enjoy food and I dont want to be sat in a room of people every Tuesday evening clapping for Brenda or someone else who lost half a pound. I wanna be boosting Brenda up and telling her I fricken love those sweatpants she is rocking or how she has her hair today. I want to be around empowering women and not making them feel bad that they fell off the wagon a few days in a week and had a damned KitKat. And so I think when I return from my holiday (less than 48-hours to go and counting) I will rennounce all Slimming World visits only goign in for the bare minimum whilst I see out my remaining week's I have pre-paid for, checking in on my ever fluctuating weightloss. 

And sowith less than eight hours of work to go, the countdown is well and truely on. As I had explained last week, my finaly year of my twenties I want to do stuff, see stuff, visit places and just tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything - Weddings, Work/Life balance, Halloween, Career, Parties and social activities, even holidays - Or so I thought before I got the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY! This time next week ladies and gentlemen get ready to be green with envy as I will be 2,393 miles away from here in Marmaris, Turkey. 

Flying out Wednesday, Mr Warehouse and I will be leaving our pups behind to play with their sister (Frankenstien's Pup-Sister) and Momma Warehouse AKA 'Grandma' for a whole week with friends and family dropping by throughout the time I am sure. Jetting off to the Mediterranean resort town along the Turkish Riviera, also known as the Turquoise Coast, Marmaris is a dreamy location with pebbly beaches and long seafront promenades, perfect for just getting away from it all. The seaside, tourist hotspot is known for its lively nightlife on Bar Street which is home to open-air clubs and music venues, however from some of the YouTube videos and vlogs we have watched over the last fortnight or so, most of them seem closed. Marmaris sits in a valley between pine-forested mountains and clear waters, which are popular sailing and diving destinations, something Mr Warehouse and I are hopihn we might be able to find an excursion or two.

Our hotel is to die for as well. Situated right on the beachfront sea lapping up against your toes, The Poseidon Hotel offers a private beach area with a jetty and free sun loungers, parasols and cabanas beds. The hotel has both an indoor and outdoor pool as well as a Turkish bath, sauna and a fitness centre. All room are beautifully carpeted throughout and what looks like marbled stone private bathrooms with a hairdryers, free toiletries and everything else you could possibly need for your stay. Air conditioning as an absoloute must for Mr Warehouse after several dodgey budget hotels with little or none and I am sure that the TV and minibar will be put to good use also. 

With the All Inclusive menu there will be plenty to pick from I am sure, or maybe something à la carte where Mr Warehouse and I can enjoy selected dishes from Turkish and international cuisines. If we fancy it Marmaris city centre is less than a two-mile walk from the hotel with plenty more options for food and nightlife. According to Booking.com, "according to independent reviews, this is guests' favourite part of Marmaris and Couples particularly like the location rating it 8.9 for a two-person trip." so I am positive we will have a good time and with Free WiFi available throughout the hotel I am sure you will all be getting sick and tired of my constant 'Gramming by Thursday Morning. 

Oh and did I mention - Its adults only! No screaming Wayne's around poolside wanting their fifth ice-cream in a row. No crying Abigail because she cant use the Hammam mud chambers. No silly slides or water fountains (although not going to lie, probs gonna miss that myself). So grab your overpried straw sun hat from Accessorize and the Haviana's you bagged from your bestie when she was having a clear out and let get our holiday on!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Green Fingered Goddess

Hello everyone, 

I suppose we have had a rather quiet weekend in comparison to last. No Parties and no worrying over BBQ's and finally no more wondering if Frankenstein is OK in his baby grow or if he would rather the cone. Following his last Vet check on Friday, he was given the all-clear and was ready for some more strenuous exercise, not that he had calmed down mind. With that in hand, I had mentioned to the Vet about possibly enrolling him into agility classes as he has so much energy and is a quick learner. She had agreed and suggested some local groups and classes which I will be sure to hit up, however, I think I will start to show him this year, especially since I will have a few on my doorstep. Who knows we might just win!

What with it being the Bank Holiday here in the UK as well this weekend, the last one before Santa comes, Mr Warehouse and I applied ourselves well and have done the garden. Well, at least some of it. You see most Bank Holidays in the UK are drizzly, wet and grey - If you haven't already noticed. However on the contrary, this one has been blisteringly hot, one of which my future husband and I can enjoy whilst not being as sun burnt as the last time there was a heatwave here.

Saturday Mr Warehouse was working the morning for some extra pennies so I decided to head out for the afternoon, popping by to my seamstress to see if she could work some magic by adding sleeves to my dress for a family event coming up soon. That night we looked after my future niece and nephews whilst their parents were out. Sunday I had reserved for hitting the shops in the hope of finding that elusive rattan garden corner sofa furniture set. And so leaving the pups at home in the coolness of the house Mr Warehouse and I headed out into the 30-something-degree weather and popped by a few stores picking up a much-needed hose for our newly acquired tap, some compost and numerous reduced flowers and bulbs, ready to pot. I was quiet surprised with myself as I sat back and looked at all our hard work for a Sunday afternoon, flowers and plants potted, garden watered and grass cut. Very well done us and as Mr Warehouse said as we settled in for the night that it really is starting to look a bit more like home. I just hope that my green-fingers don't ruin the plants as I am known for not being able to keep most plants in my life alive. Well, apart from that one cactus that looked like a penis and just kept growing?!

I remember thinking as we walked around garden centres and DIY shops as a child that this was the height of boring and that peaking as an adult was when you had been to or had any dealings with a DIY shop and gardening, well, that was just another hell I forced myself through in order to get pocket money. I didn't enjoy it and hated the fact that there were bugs everywhere, it was tough thick clay type mud which was never easy to work with and that it was arduously long work making me ache and hurt by the end of it all. I think it was probably at that point that I vowed, whilst my front garden, and even my back one, in my childhood home looked beautiful and people always commented on it, I would always choose to have my plants in pots, moreso for convenience. 

Today however as Bank Holiday Monday, our extra day out of the office and away from work has been less productive. It started off well, however, with promises of getting the Save the Dates done and ready to post out, however, instead we searched for a suit for Chris, again for the family occasion and scoured several shops in again soaring temperatures only to then buy online as there were limited sizes and styles. It started to lag however when we started the inventory of the wedding items we have purchased in preparation for next year, slowly wilting under the inescapable heat. Finally, I cracked and snoozed for longer than anticipated in the late afternoon. Since then we have set up the printer, and the laptop and printed out what our draft was, however on closer inspection there are some slight changes we probably will need to make before sending out, and that will be left now probably for a couple of weeks as Mr Warehouse will be preoccupied with other, more matrimonial duties and events ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Fast and Furious of Adulting

Evening All, 

Following last week's final adventures in my little Vivienne, she is awaiting her final journey to Car heaven as is still on my driveway. The 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta, with her five-door hatchback body and a 1.4L engine she certainly was everything I had ever hoped for in my first car. Viv's multi-functional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors I was please that I had experienced my first real taste of the open road in her. But alas all good things must come to an end and this week and I will hopefully be welcoming in a new car to my driveway, other than the swanky black Vauxhall Corsa I have had the pleasure of driving for the last few days. 

After a heavy night of drinking, dancing and laughing with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat, I was not sure I could even look at a car, let alone drive one. But nevertheless, taking time out on Saturday to have a race day with my fiance, Mr Warehouse, at the Bruntingthorpe track in the Harborough district of Leicestershire was certainly one way to get over a fragile head. The best way though, Im not so sure!? A Christmas present from last year from Mr. Warehouse, he had certainly been listening to me when I was banging on about driving a fast car round a race-track. And so I drove the hired Vauxhall Corsa through the country lanes and even avoided a few horses on the road not to mention the sheep crossing too. 

I had a fantastic day driving a Mazda MX5 race car. Complete with full roll cage, race suspension and mechanical backup, this was the perfect car for Bruntingthorpe Airbase circuit and has left me wanting more. And so I booked the Bae and me to experience a Ariel Atom Passenger ride where Mr. Warehouse and I hit the tarmac for a supercharged Ariel Atom. The Atom houses a Jacskson Racing Supercharged Honda i-VTEC engine. Stripped to it's bare essentials, a chassis, wheels, engine, gearbox and suspension gives the Atom a better power to weight ratio than the mighty Bugati Veyron. Experiencing one of the quickest cars with a 0.60 in less than 3 seconds was exciting and a great day out and was sure to get our adrenaline pumping. 

And after waiting patiently for the last few days I finally had the call I was expecting from the insurance company. Answering all the relevant security questions I prepared myself for the inevitable conversation of being paid barely enough to pay of my finance deal, let alone buy another car. 

"Sorry can I just get you to clarify that again for me?" I asked, desperately trying to process exactly what the call handler has just told me. 
"Yes certainly madam. So the car's total value is £8,500.00 give or take. Now obviously we have the insurance excess and a few admin charge that we need to take off before we pay the finance company. Although once the insurance company has paid off the finance deal and taken the relevant fees we will be transferring the remainder £4,200.00 over to yourself. Is this OK?" the call handler explained. I was shocked to say the least! Considering I had already bought and financed the car at quite a high rate of interest I was not expecting a single penny back to me at all. As long as the finance deal was settled in full be it partly an insurance pay-out and partly my asset protection insurance to cover the rest, I considered walking away from the situation washing my hands and starting afresh. 
"Hello? Miss? Are you there?" the friendly young gentleman said on the other line. Confirming some further details the the call ended and I expected to receive a email or phone call shortly after explaining that there had been a mistake in the finance settlement. 

However, less than a few hours later I received an email confirming exactly what I was told over the phone and that I should be expecting payment within the next forty-eight hours. Still in shock, I thought of didn't really believe it until I saw my bank account the next day which read a full four digits on my screen. Excited I started looking for my new car right away, all in the knowledge that I could receive a phone call any second telling me that I would need to hand my hire car back. This would probably have not been such a big deal had I been living in Bedford town center as before, however as I am now a country bumpkin living out in the sticks of Cranfield I have no choice but to need a car. Although I was certainly not going to be making the same mistake as I did last week when I eagerly called the insurance company so I could get the ball rolling following a message from the estimator's garage. 

Mostly over the last few days I have been spent looking online at car dealerships websites for any car that tickles my fancy. Obviously I am not looking for much in my next car however I would like some specifications I have since become accustomed to. Firstly on my shopping list is the price as I would like to keep it under the same value that I am already paying on a monthly basis. Secondly, I need the car to be at least a 1.4 engine as anything smaller would be taking a back step from my previous vehicle. Ideally I would like the car to be newer with less mileage on the clock. If I can continue with a petrol engine then that would be fantastic but it must be a manual, only for the fear that if I was to get an automatic with my lazy brain I would forget how to drive stick. Mod-Cons that I would be looking for may include a heated windscreen to save time in the wintery months, a  heated steering wheel for exactly the same reason and even a touch screen navigation system. 

However that being said, I think I may have already met my new car. Scrolling online I found a cute little Fiat 500L in red. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needs to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and even have a whizz around town but with just over thirty-thousand miles on it 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal. 

Now I know what your thinking, walking away from this unscathed and essentially up n an investment, why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is and always has been a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new not just the first time buying a car but also the second time too. With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and it's almighty diesel engine I am certainly looking forward to receiving my new car and hopefully having this one for good!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Sleep tight in car heaven my orange amigo!

Good Evening, 

Today is a sad day. Today I have lost a good friend of mine and one that I think I will never forget. My first. My one and only. My beautiful Vivienne. 

Back in the throes of my youth in the warm weather of 2016's October, I met my Vivienne at a local reputable dealership. Taking public transport to a dealership I had my heart set on the 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta. A five-door hatchback with a 1.4L engine was everything I had ever hoped and dreamt for in my first car and with its high specification including a multifunctional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors she was certainly a thing of beauty. Small enough for little old me and big enough for the Doggy and other half during road-trips I was certainly excited to test drive the autumnal-coloured runabout and even more anxious to hear about what packaged I could choose from. 

I was financing the car, and whilst I did consider a brand spanking new motor at the time, the fact that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt was a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new. With one previous owner, no noticeable damage or scratches to her paintwork and a clean interior she was perfect. And so my little tangerine-coloured car was named Vivienne, after the flame-haired fashionista that is Vivienne Westwood. I think it fits and I have since found out that the Ford Fiesta orange hue does not come as standard and the previous owner must have paid a good deal of money for a paint job as good as what my Viv has. A special one of a kind you might say. Unique - Just like her owner! I was certainly eager to collect her and after a few weeks, our Vivienne was settling into her new home just right. The following few months lots of changes in my life including a brand new job and a serious amount of Adulting! 

Over the coming months that turned into years and my beloved Vivienne took many road trips; York where we drove for nearly five and a half hours because I didn't quite realise that the speed limit was 70mph and I was pootling along at 60mph. Then there was The Peak District where we struggled up hills and a crossed snowy mountains. The multiple trips to the seaside with our puppy and even facilitating us to take our poor puppy to the vets on the odd occasion. Countless shopping trips and visiting new places or seeing friends and family. It was on one of these occasions a few weeks ago where I was visiting Mrs Tweedle-Dumb at her family pad in our hometown of Houghton Regis near Dunstable. After a good few weeks of catching-up, constant laughs and seeing each other pretty much every other day it was time for her to go back to America and her husband. With her departure also came her parents move too as they too were moving out of the family home and away to the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales. 

Parking as I usually had, I didn't think twice about parking my car outside the family home, and I didn't think anything strange when I returned to my car much later on that evening for the drive home. It was not until the following morning when I went out to the car during my day off in order to get something when I noticed a huge grey and white stripe down the front passenger's side of the vehicle. The paint job itself was extremely noticeable, however, it was the huge dent to the door itself and the caved-in handle that gave me a shock. I was fuming. Not knowing what to do I called Mr Warehouse and hoped that he would have some advice for me that would be worthwhile. 

That evening after he arrived home from work we cleaned the car and inspected the overall damage. It was certainly not going to be a cheap job by any means as there were multiple scratches, scuffs and paintwork damage to the car and its bodywork, not to mention the fact that the window made a horrid scraping and scratching noise as it was wound down. Mr Warehouse could even that squeeze his fat sausage digits in between the window and the car door meaning that it was a security risk leaving it. As soon as I could I took her to a bodywork specialist in Bedford who explained that the work was very expensive and would far outweigh my £200 excess. Opting for going through the insurance I followed procedure and took Vivienne to another dealership which was approved. 

Checking her over, the Mechanic told of a very bleak and dark future for my little pumpkin. Explaining that the total damage to the car door and paintwork as well as some extras that needed to be done on the bumper, lights and bonnet to restore the condition of the car would reach well in excess of £3,000. I suppose unfortunately this means that poor Vivienne was on the cusp of being written off as a total loss which would mean my car would be scrapped or stripped down entirely, naked to her shell, her parts sold on. The kind car doctor informed me that the diagnosis would be more likely than not a write-off and that I should hurry home to check that I have purchased the all-important gap insurance. Gap insurance means that whatever the insurance company pays out for my poor old Vivienne, my gap insurance will cover the rest to what I have left to pay on my finance deal. This means that inadvertently I would walk away without a car and with the debt cleared meaning I can go out to find a new car or alternatively get a loan to cover the balance on a new car. 

This evening after finishing work, I noticed I had a text from the car mechanic who diagnosed Vivienne explaining that my vehicle was now a total loss and that my insurance company will be in contact with me soon. With this, I thought that it would be better if I called the insurance company this evening so I could get the ball rolling,  although after a lengthy conversation and many, many questions later the call handler finally revealed to me that my car was no longer insured under my policy and that as of the moment I get home and park her on my drive she will be classed as a category-N write-off meaning I would not be able to drive her ever again. 

Rolling her gently onto my driveway, solely dedicated to her and only her, I bid my 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta goodbye as I emptied her insides. Vivienne will be collected in the next few days and after that I should expect to hear what she is worth. To me, however, my first ever car is and always will be priceless. We have cried together, sang together, stressed together and even screamed and shouted together at times. All the selfies. All the memories. I literally thought I would bring my future babies home from the hospital in my Vivienne, car seats and all. Alas, you were beaten up by an unscrupulous driver and thus our adventures will continue no more! You have served me well dear Viv. Miss you already ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Crackling Idea!

Ola!

Still we are on our hunt for a videographer, however this time they are taking a back seat as Mr Warehouse and I start to look into catering again. Following the blog posts previous with our "The Gluttonous Guest List" and the dreaded "'W' Word" we have cautiously started to embark on the next voyage of discovery and financial entrapment! After settling down to a rough number for our guest list back before Christmas, we calculated a round figure and cost per head and sent it out to as many caterers as we could find and think of, stating that the event we were catering for was a "family meal" rather than the 'W' word as it seems to add on an extra thirty or forty percent to the total bill for no apparent rhyme or reasoning. Essentially this is still true since the only difference between a genuine family meal and a wedding is that I am going to be sitting in a fat white dress. 

Ideally, we were, still are really, looking for a sit-down meal consisting of 2-courses and finishing with our wedding cake as dessert handcrafted hopefully by a family friend. The catering facilities at Stagsden Village Hall are very basic and minimal as it is an old school house, however, they do have two ovens with hobs and a fridge plus crockery, glasses and tableware we are able to use. Now I was quite understanding, as was Mr Warehouse, that we were not going to get Foie Gras or Duck Breast for our wedding breakfast, however, we were anticipating something simple yet effective.

After multiple caterers coming back to tell us our budget was outside of what they could do for us, we had not one but two catering companies that were able to supply us with a quote and even some sample menus. My fiance and I had asked commonly requested things from anyone providing food for an event such as if the price included VAT or whether they work with fresh or frozen food and how would they handle last-minute requests or changes.  However, after several back-and-forth emails and questions, the caterers stated that "After careful consideration and a discussion with the team [the catering company] are unable to cater for your event, as it wouldn't be cost effective for us to do so due to your requirements and budget. Unfortunately we may have crossed wires throughout e-mails, as [the catering company] were unaware that the catering required was for a Wedding as no mention of this throughout the correspondence and that our Wedding packages start from £30.00 + VAT per head due to the preparation involved and the high standard of service we like to provide for our brides." 

Be it a wedding, family event or Uncle Eric's funeral, you would expect the same level of service and ergo the same price per head. But Ohhh No! Furious at being asked to pay nearly treble the original cost quoted, for a menu, Mr Warehouse and I were extremely happy with, I emailed them back. The catering company replied by attempted to justify the price increase, stating that they "feel from the original enquiry, there was a different impression of the type of catering and service required and anticipated only sending a maximum of two members of staff. We understand when you have said that you would not be fussy about the preparation, but for a Wedding, there will be a lot more involvement to go towards making your Day a special occasion and we can’t offer this type of service for under our standard Wedding price of £30 + VAT per head."

At the time I was so angry and just could not believe that the mere mention of the word wedding would increase the price by nearly twenty-quid per head! That is where my gorgeous Husband-to-be came in with his idea of Italian Family style eating. Imagine heaping platters of delicious food brought directly to the guests' table. No waiting in long buffet lines or figuring out which table goes first. Family style is a beautifully presented and relaxed style of dining, that makes guests or event attendees feel right at home. Platters, full of fresh food, delivered to each table so that guests can enjoy a relaxed meal without leaving their seats. Something I had never thought of, however, the more I think about it the more I like it. And again we are back at the drawing board, sending out quotation requests to as many caterers as we could find and think of and find within a thirty-mile radius. Ideally, we would be looking for a Hog Roast man, just as it is easy and most people are happy with that for a main along with a few pasta dishes, salads and tatties. Not only that but it also lends itself to being great for evening guests too as when the dancefloor becomes too hot they can chill out with a pig in a bun and crackling on the side!

Other than the catering, most of the sourcing of suppliers has been done and the booking process won't be much far behind that. Since Mr Warehouse keeps insisting that we can't afford a holiday this year (I think we can with a variety of vouchers, money off codes and a good old haggle) I have thrown myself head first into Wedding Planning and some would say maybe neglect my gorgeous Hubby-To-Be, putting all of my focus and energy into planning our dream day. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

That Old Chestnut ,,,

Hello, 

Leaving work early today I was excited at the prospects of the next hour and as Mr. Warehouse and I trundled down the road in Vivienne I could barely contain my excitement. Indicating right, slowing down and pulling into the gravel lane that lead to the back of some very quaint Railway cottages we had arrived. Looking like the back end of a chocolate box with friendly locals and what appeared to be a communal car parking space where everyone I imagined looked forward to seeing their neighbours and having a chit-chat over the garden fence, maybe even sharing in some sugar or two. Getting out of the car Mr. Warehouse could already tell I was falling form the old-ye-worlde charm of the place. 

Wandering around the outhouses, sheds and barn or two we were called over by a rather warm looking estate agent who ushered us inside before explaining the details of the house. It was a two-bedroom cottage with a garden courtyard which I just knew would not please Mr. Warehouse as he wanted some grass that his dog could disintegrate with her piss but I thought that the walled courtyard would be perfect to enjoy BBQ's in the summer and a hot toddy and blanket to watch the stars when it got colder. As we entered the home through the back door, we came into a large kitchen enough to host dinner or a party with plenty of room for a dining room table and all the bits and bobs a kitchen would need (although we found out later that the white good were not included). Trying my might to get Mr. Warehouse's eye, I wanted to point him towards the kitsch little stable door to the back of the property that would lend itself to a form of proper country living and something I had in all honesty always dreamt of having. Snapping out of thoughts of me entertaining guests through the half-hatched door or having our pooch learn to lean up and beg for some treats after wandering out round the garden, the estate agent took us through to a large living room. Nicely decorated our large chaise-sofa would have fit several ways round and we were surprised to learn that the gorgeous book case would be staying so as to house all manner of DVD's, Books and Games as well as all the pictures and memento's Mr. Warehouse long to put on display. It was here I began to let myself truly think about living here, cosy nights in front of the TV cuddled up on the couch watching shite telly whilst the wind and the cold breezed outside. 

Opening a wooden door lead to the enclosed staircase whereby we ascended to reveal a huge bathroom with enough space for a massive bath tub set into the stone floor, a separate shower, toilet and sink with plenty of room for cabinets and storage for bathroom items. I was in love. The high ceilings and character of the property was something I had absolutely fallen head over heels for, but looking at Mr. Warehouse I could tell that something was not right. Looking through into the first room, what turned out to apparently be the smallest of the two still housed a large double bed, a desk and work station and even a double wardrobe big enough to be a triple for even more storage options. This was a room I would be proud to put guests in and even with a little tweaking could accommodate a half man-cave, half craft room. It was everything I wanted from a spare room and more with the potential of it being more that just a guest bedroom in the future. The master bedroom was similar in size although with the alcoves cut into the wall following the destruction of the original fire place and with added space over the stairs there would have been plenty of room in their for both our wardrobes and drawers including a comfy new bed maybe. It even had a secret little window to shout down for your morning coffee. 

With the fluff and prancing around over and done with we got talking on the landing and down to business. After asking all the relevant questions Mr. Warehouse and I were ready to talk money. £1,100 for the deposit of six-weeks up-front. £240 background agency and referencing fee. £120 tenancy drafting and inventory fee. £100 pet policy agreement fee. In total Mr. Warehouse would be talking over three-grand before we have even got the keys. Five minutes later the reality started to settle in with the conversation that had just been held and as the estate agent went off to make some phone-calls back to the office the reality started to settle in. We had a couple of hundred quid saved and a credit card or two, but no way did we have that sort of money. Who did? 

I could understand the pet deposit and I will be honest I am surprised it was not more given the fact that they charge nearly £300 per couple for copying and pasting an already existing tenancy agreement and handing you a pen. and then there is the inventory list that need to be done, again something that would have been done less that a year ago when the property was last on the market. The hundred-and-twenty quid for the referencing fee, just for little estate agent to sit at her desk of an afternoon and make a couple of phone calls in order to check we have no bad financial history of not paying or leaving the place in a state. It was an absolute joke. And all in order to pay someone else's mortgage. Walking out of the property I was siked about what the conversation would be in the car on the way to our "old home". 

Alas the journey was quiet as we had not even turned the engineer on in our dear Vivienne before and argument broke out. Everything had been so positive before and now working out the figures I was sure that we were not to live happily ever after in our little cottage of joy. I would never serve drinks from my stable hatch or get to bathe in my floor-set bath tub. Never would I be able to refer to the two outhouses as the cow and coal sheds, nor will I shout down to the cozy sitting room for a cup of char of a Sunday morning before a nice brisk walk along the country roads. Indeed it was a very quiet journey home that I just became more and more agitated with the fact that Mr. Warehouse agreed to see the property with me, so why wasn't he open to putting down roots. I questioned his commitment for the first time tonight. 

For the value that we would be paying I thought it was a steal and with the fact we could potentially live there way past marriage and our first child it was something I was ready to say yes to right there and then. Having said that though, I couldn't help think that the boyfriend was waiting on something else. Something that might never come along and that even if it did it would still not satisfy him fully and tick every one of his boxes. Would it have the grassy garden for the dog? Would the rent be affordable and something we can manage? Would it be somewhere for a while and not for a moment? Would the bathroom please his every need and would there be room for this and room for that? There is always something that just isn't right enough for my dear, dear Mr Warehouse and unfortunately his lack of imagination and creativity cannot be applied in order to see what it could be like and not what it is at face value within a property. And I thought I was hard to please!?

Now I know we were and are still both luck to have the good jobs we do and food in our bellies and a roof over our heads especially more-so as it came into the harshness of winter and in a bid not to sound ungrateful I just with that there was a way out of this somewhat hopeless situation. A couple, mid-twenties that are stuck suffocating between an affordable rented property that they are hotly growing out of, although not in a position to rent somewhere bigger and better but neither in a position to buy. How do people do it? Well I know how, it usually a helping hand or a big win, usually the former. Government schemes such as help to buy mortgages, shared ownership and lifetime ISA's only help the fortunate to save. What about those like Mr. Warehouse and I who can fully afford a mortgage on a good home but can barely scrape together the deposit and fees and all because we are paying our own way in life already. The fact is that buying for Mr. Warehouse and I will take years, and probably close to a decade to save for, even where we are now with the rent and bills we pay. Renting for Mr. Warehouse and myself, yes, is an option, however this would lend itself to a higher cost of living with bigger rents and bills and no where for spare cash to go towards a house. So what do we do? 

After arriving home and cleaning the small flat in separate areas for nearly an hour, we met in the Fritzl (our aptly named corridor after Joseph and Elizabeth Fritzl due to how small, narrow and long it is). Bellies rumbling and sadness from either party I knew I couldn't stay angry at him for being a realist, although I hated him for it. I soon realised I have been very selfish and my constant talk of holidays or luxurious travelling or buy a house or renting somewhere new is neglectful of my responsibilities as a girlfriend and to be supportive in an emotional way to someone else other than me. Whilst my urge for moving is getting greater I need to acknowledge that Mr. Warehouse earns less than I do, only by a fraction, but still enough to make him feel even less hopeful than me at ever getting out of our pokey one-bed. I love our little flat, but don't get me wrong, if someone offered me tomorrow a property that ticked all the boxes and I had the money to move immediately, I would. I just hope that Mr. Warehouse waiting on something better to come along pays off ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Depp Is A Way of Life!

Hello one and all, 

As Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sat on my sofa I listened intently to my childhood being read out in a technicolour of smelly gel pens and biro. It was funny to look back and realize just how warped myself and my best friends were back in the day. And so it continued into the afternoon listening to the letters that were sent to and from each other, silly poems and made up stories about Johnny Depp. 

Speaking of the fellow, I still have hidden somewhere in the depths under my bed a ring-binder full of fan fiction stories written about Johnny Depp and the myriad of characters he played over the years. Romantic novels almost and crime fighting tales, drug deals and passion a plenty. I must say though that some of the visions and creative writing that took place on these online forums was very graphic, even for a twenty-something reading them for the first time in more than a decade. Some stories touched on the most taboo of subjects whilst others are bordering a film script. 

Beautiful as they were it was a time where things were much less complicated, or so we all thought. Alas I wonder and dream of the days back in middle school where all you really had to worry about was what you were seeing at the cinema that weekend or how long you had to plan your outfit for the next Mufti Day. As a pre-teen, I was completely oblivious to the complicated and stressful big wide world that I would one day be a part of. No bills. No car. No Job. Heaven! Never did I have to fret about not being able to make ends meet on a minimum wage job that my government says I should be living just fine on. Nor did I have to concern myself with rental prices or how I would ever, ever even get a peek inside the home-ownership door. In my young naive I suppose I just thought that it would all comes naturally to me - I go to school, I get good grades. I go to college, I get good qualifications. I go to Uni, I gain a degree. I get a job, I buy a house. I meet a guy and we fall in love forever. Life isn't fairy-tale and unfortunately I can see what my teachers meant when they described me as a "pie-in-the-sky dreamer"

At school I was never a realist, always choosing to opt for the books and fiction over the cold hard facts of the classroom. Maybe that's why I feel so robbed of a adult life? Maybe this is why I feel like adulting is way worse than what I imagined it feeling and being like. Even now I see myself just simply drifting off into my own little world, imagining home ownership or my trip to DisneyWorld or a Holiday to the Caribbean. I am glad for Mr. Warehouse sometimes for he always is there to catch me and my ballooning ideas when they catch a bit too much wind, forever ready to bring me back down to earth. 

Anyhoo, back to the brighter side of me - My Friends. The amount of letters we would send each other, talking about all things from love and boys to willies, sex and how we all knew everything there was to ever know about the subjects. It's funny to look back and read what we thought was true about life and the world form just a few sex-ed videos. And as creative as we were with words I am sure that if I caught my daughter, or son for that matter, talking and reading and watching the material we were I would be very concerned. In the days before Internet, teenage girls like us got our kicks from online forums, chat-rooms and good old trading out. I recall the days where Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would almost weekly jam the printer in the school library because we got caught printing too many erotic fan fictions or reams of pointless Johnny Depp pictures to drool over, only for the weekend to come so we could stay-up late at sleepovers and watch the adult channels when the parents had gone to bed. 

I suppose in a way some of the things I wrote poems about and spoke about was a way of just expressing myself and at a time where in school it is so awful to be different and all the drama that surrounds being a pre-teen and a girl, I was certainly glad to have two wacko's joining me on the discovery into women-hood, even if we did stretch the rules - Then again, nothing has changed much, we're still all trying to test one another. But I suppose that is just part of growing up, and I wouldn't want anyone else beside me to do it with!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Ready?!

Good evening, 

So a thought occurred to me this weekend. Am I ready? Looking at Mr. Warehouse on Friday evening after a few hours in the park wearing out his Niece's and Nephew's, my beloved other-half sat relaxed on the sofa with the littlest of three children, all seemingly pooped from the exertion. Difference is that only a few moments earlier I was cradling a crying baby with no clue as to why it was upset. Was it hungry? No I was trying to feed it and the milk was not being graciously received. Was it soiled? Nope checked that - Five times. Was it hot? Not sure so I took off some layers. Was it tired? I don't think so as every time I put it down it cried and screamed even more. Did it want to be held? Refer back to being laid down. Was it sad? Probably. 

To be fair I have no clue and zero experience when it comes to children. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are both bemused and concerned with my lack of motherly instinct and general attitude towards children. The amount of times I have said to myself and others that "It'll be different when its my own" and all along I was kidding myself because now, I am actually starting to wonder if it is a false lie that other parents say when your just not ready for kids. 

I look at my own childhood, because I imagine that is where it starts. I was an only child up until I was about five and that is when my brother came along. Little as he always was to me, he was my little Bro and I was furiously protective over him, right up until the moment I was kicked out. Even to this day I find myself defending him and explaining that there must be a reason for some of his strange and sometimes hurtful actions. Growing up though, other than my brother, I never had any real hands on contact with babies or smaller children. My mother was told that after my siblings difficult birth another pregnancy could be the end of her and so it was just the two of us. 

When I was in my mid-teenage years, rocking out to My Chemical Romance and Enter Shikari, along came the first of three cousins, all in a quick succession of one another. With them all approaching their early adolescence I am sometimes put to shame with how much they know already. Sex Education is starting earlier, as is Drugs talks in Personal, Social, Health and Educational studies. At their age I though weed was some kind of plant that your grandma hated and would make you pee the bed if you picked it. I suppose it is education of a generation so as not to make the mistakes their parents may have made. 

I have very few friends that are single and ready to mingle, not that I am of course. Most of the people I know are with someone long term and either getting on the property ladder, having children or getting hitched. But I question sometimes if I am ready for all of that commitment. In fact, looking through social media, I have very few school friends that have not gone on to have children young. Now this is not a blast to young moms, and dads, ho have had their children whilst young themselves. Hey good luck to you, because my limited experience of looking after children, and within that the sparse moments I have had looking after children on my own, I question honestly how it can and is done. Only a handful of people in my friends list have a university degree, or have travelled extensively. Most of them without kids just poodle on through life, fixing up their room with new Instagram style photo-walls and tweeting about how the morning jog was just the best. 

Thinking about it life is great without kids! I am far too selfish, self-obsessed and consumed by moi to have children yet. People have said that "children will be the making of you and all your narcissism will melt away once you have babies" but I doubt it. I will have to wait and see what the future holds but right now there is a world to explore and a whole cupboard of alcohol under my sink that needs t be drunk ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Another Week, Another Christmas Party ...

Hello, 

Saturday night I rolled up late (as usual) to my new work's Christmas do, dressed to the nines and looking hopefully like a sparkly black and red Christmas cracker. Don't worry I was actually invited to this one. Eating my meal and mingling I wondered how it compared to the last Christmas party I attended less than a week earlier. But that was an unfair comparison. I had only been in my new role a few weeks really and knew few by name let alone face yet. And whilst I had a wonderful time I couldnt help think that next year will be better once I have established myself in the group of colleagues I have now and learn my place. I am loud and brash and sometimes can be quite drunk so will need to learn how best to mold myself to this new environment of sophisticated and seriously adulting individuals. I have come to realise that most of my work colleagues that are the same age as me are very grown up and have their shit seriously together - Buying houses, travelling and getting married and here I have a fucking FOMO when I can't get my eyeliner "on fleek" in the morning. I think if my new colleagues and job have an any influential change on me in the past few weeks it will have taught me that now it the time to hand back the bottle of Vodka, hang up the heels and become someone a little less full on. The new year will hopefully bring about some changes and see me starting to act my age and not the Gin-Princess I was last weekend. OK well the thought was there at least ...

But as the hours melt away and the big day fast approaches I am getting increasingly more excited about Christmas. And just when I thought I had peeked too early by singing Christmas songs before I turned twenty-five. Suffice to say that even before people started asking the questions of  "Are you ready for it?" and "Have you finished the shopping yet?" both Mr. Warehouse and I were more than ready, even as far to say that for both of us and our extended list of loved ones to buy for, we were done before we went to York in mid-November. I think I like it that way. I can get a feel for what I want to buy people towards the end of summer, and after my birthday is over and done with (not that it should sound like such a chore of course) I start buying the items that have been sat in my online baskets. 

Now I'll admit it that this year, I have spent less but have bought from many, many different retailers I would have never thought about going to before I had Vivienne (my car). I have been to Hobby Craft, The Works, Tesco and Argos all in the hope that what was in my bags from the high street and arriving in the post from Amazon were going to be something they loved. I am glad of the presents I have picked up for friends and family as whilst they are well thought out, creative and something they will enjoy, they are also well priced and if anything a bargain. And all because I plan in advance. 

My best advice to people is that funnily enough, Christmas is on the twenty-fifth of December next year. And it may sound crazy but its the same the following year, and the year after that and the year after that. It shouldn't be a big surprise that as soon as the leaves start turning brown you panic buy socks and Milk Trays in bulk. Plan ahead. Hit the sales in January and pick up the knock off Christmas Deck's, baubles and lights. Find the wrapping paper you loved and the cards that made you chuckle all at rock bottom prices. Become a chipmunk and squirrel stuff away in a Christmas box. Presents, gift wrap, and ornaments. Everything either you or someone else would want that year. Our Harry Potter AKA the cupboard under the stairs is a great place to start and hosting a boot sale to clear out the crap is the best way forward. Out with the old crap and in with the new crap. That's what Mr. Warehouse says. 

But as it gets closer to the end of summer, start thinking about people and their personalities and what they would want but don't they want. I have a spreadsheet and honestly I live my life on it. Colour-coded, key-enabled organised chaos is how I manage everything and most of all Christmas. I keep track of what I have bought people for Christmas the past two years, so as not to buy them the same wonderful gift again and work out financially what I have and what I can get for it. Its all about knowing the value not only of stuff generally and where to buy it cheap, but also that you have to work with what you've got. Everyone would love to give their husband, wife, mom, dad, nan, best friend or dog an eight-bedroom yacht called "Rosie" with enough petrol (or whatever boats drink) in it to head off to the Bahamas for a turkey dinner on the beach. But reality is we all have budgets for a paper boat made out of yesterdays Daily Star. 

Whatever your budgets though and whatever you have brought people this year, as well as whatever you have got for yourself; Just remember where you are. You are protected by four walls and a roof, in a warm home, surrounded by people who love you (probably), eating and drinking and being merry. Some people across the world don't have any of that. Some people that are right in your town, maybe even only a few moments from where you are now that have nothing. Just remember that you are extremely luck and all of us should remember that its about being grateful and thankful for what we all have and not being consumed by the consumerism and gumpf that Christmas pretends to be about. Christmas is family and love and warmth. So spend it with your loved ones and have a very Merry Christmas. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx