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 

The Story of a Generation Robbed ...

Heyy, 

Sat on my second hand-sofa, in my cheap one-bed ground floor flat I struggled to hold back the tears and be happy for the other person on the other end of the phone. After the death of the Landlord, my Dad's girlfriend had recently found out that the property where they both live is being put on the market. With both of them being over fifty, the likelihood of them getting a mortgage was slim and renting would only solve the problem short-term until they retire, and then what? They had both spent the last few weeks stressing over where they were going to be living in a few months time. With some savings they were in a sticky situation but at least they had some savings, maybe not enough for what they wanted, but it was a start, something myself, nor Mr. Warehouse had not even managed to achieve yet. 

Apparently somewhere between the beginning and the end of last month, my father had found enough money for a large deposit on a two-bedroom new built property in an affluent area of outer Bedford. Listening to his excitement yesterday evening I really tried so hard to be supportive and what a "good daughter" should do in that instance. But it was hard, especially when only weeks ago I was explaining about mine and Mr. Warehouse's recent meeting with a mortgage adviser who has pretty much disappeared off the face of the planet since he found out we had no savings. At the time I spoke to my Dad about it in deep meaningful conversation and he mentioned to me on several occasions that he would love to help me out financially but he simply couldn't as he didn't have the money; A phrase which was common when I had difficulties involving financial cost, even when I hadn't asked him for anything. 

Now I am not ignorant or silly to know that when all this was happening, my father, and admittedly his girlfriend, were faced with some hard decisions and tough challenges. Stuck in a situation far worse than mine and with only a decade or two left before retiring their options were limited. So in that respects I fully understand them using the money stashed away from my parents divorce to fund a bright and colourful new home. Either support myself and my girlfriend by funding our own home together and long-term securing our futures together, or gift the only child of two I speak to the once in the chance lifetime of owning her own home and getting onto the property ladder once and for all. 

Of course it is a difficult situation but to be told one thing and then a matter of moments later to find out another is emotional-fuckery. If I am brutally honest I'm really having a hard time processing the lies he had told me previously about how he was not able to help out with the money, both in years gone by and in more recent times, all along knowing that he had enough for generous deposit on a swanky new home. Heartbroken I listened on to the tall-tales and arduous task of choosing tiles and kitchen cupboard doors for his off-plan bought apartment. Welling up I ended the conversation unhappy and on the brink of tears. This wasn't fair. 

As detailed in my previous post (Wish I Was Born In The 80's!) I feel like a robbed generation that has to beg, borrow and steal their way through life, just to make ends meet. The world has moved on and whilst we have better technology, medical advances and new threats to worry about the days of being in a job for the rest of your working life are gone, as are 100% mortgages and a loaf of bread the would cost under fifty-pence. Life now for myself and other millennial's whose parents didn't start them off in life with a Mickey Mouse Trust fund for Eton begins at the bottom. Virtually no chance of getting into University for all the other places have been taken by students who have money and come from a better background to I. Ergo the rest of us muddle our way though our late-teens and early-twenties trying to get by on a pittance of a wage, all because of the generations before us. 

Now by no stretch am I poor or even on the breadline; Mr. Warehouse and I have nice meals out, go on holidays or mini weekends away and are always treating each other to nice presents on birthdays and Christmas. And maybe that is our downfall for if we were not spending this on each other then we could plough it into a house of our own, but the simple fact is that it would take close to a decade to save and in that time I want my life to progress further than a poky flat in the centre of town. I want to get married and have children in that sort of time frame and I can hardly bring up a family when I am trying to scrape every penny I have into a Help-To-Buy ISA. 

I get that my Father couldn't have split his savings with me, although would have been very nice, it would have practically made no sense what-so-ever, so I do understand his actions, I really do, I just don't understand the porkie-pies he told to try and protect his small fortune and it s for that reason that this news will be a hard pill for me to swallow. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Wish I Was Born In The 80's!

Good Evening, 

Standing in the lounge at my Dad's Girlfriends I was more than eager to get home and start searching but in the back of my mind I knew that what was being proposed was simply a fantasy for my generation. Everything was much easier in the 80's with high wages and low costs of living and banks offering money to everyone! I'm talking about the property ladder and the fact that whilst a lot of my friends have no real hope at all of even renting somewhere with rent soaring in the UK to new highs, making most places in and out of the towns near on impossible to find the money for, there are always a few that don't realise just how good they have got it. 

Firstly there is the deposit, and even with the best mortgages on the market asking young people looking to buy their first home, even 5% is a big ask for people who are on some of the lowest incomes in society. The average two-bed house in Bedford rental wise anyway is close to £850 per calendar month and with this comes the absolute heartache that you cannot even begin to save for your first home because your paying into someone else's with the extortionate high monthly bond. Saving the value you would need even on a cheap home, probably worse condition and location than your currently living in would take nearly 3 years for myself and Mr. Warehouse and even then it would be nothing near what we want or dream of. 

One of the only ways that myself, Mr. Warehouse or any of my friends would ever own our own home would be if we came into the money in some way, either winning the lottery, getting a big payout from compensation or dare I say, it having someone close to them to pop their clogs. It sounds awful really, but if your not from a rich or at least middle class family, you will have not a chance in hell to save for a deposit. Some got their money from family members or the bank of Mom and Dad, but that is just not possible, at least not for Mr. Warehouse and I. Between us we only have the one parent theoretically and even they individually couldn't help with the vast sums of money that is needed for a deposit now-days. 

A saving grace for most of my friends is that they either still live at home, that majority of them at least, or they have bagged themselves a council house paying reduced rent in comparison to the rest of us. And hey, if you can get away with it and live with the 'rents whilst saving for a pad of your own or better still save the money that would otherwise go to a greedy landlord then you go guys! I would suggest doing it until your able to do it no more, because living alone or even with a boyfriend or other person is hard. The bills are expensive, the forms are sometimes complex for different companies and the countless things that need to be shelled out for are seemingly never-ending. 

But on the plus side you have your own little space and for those that have gained accommodation through the local councils you are in the best position. Something goes wrong, you get the council and their teams to come fix it and all whilst paying much less than the same property on the private rental market. It means you have the opportunity to save, even if its a little, so that one day you wont be reliant on the state. But the thing with Britain is that since my parent generation, council houses and government funded homes have dwindled to virtually none. Only the most neediest (or clever enough to swindle the system) get a home and this leaves such a gap that is only getting bigger with the years. Soon I would not be surprised if people are all scrabbling over a pokey studio apartment for nearly £1000 per calendar month on the open market. 

More needs to be done to protect people who rent from sky-high rent, toppling agency fees and unscrupulous landlords who are nothing but a drain on society. I have been very lucky that my landlord, whom I have been renting from for nearly five years comes and fixes things when they need doing (most of the time), is easy-going and always helpful. Some people aren't so lucky and I have been on the end of a few mean, thoughtless landlords and agents in my time. 

It all just seems so un-affordable at the moment and with Mr. Warehouse looking to our future more than ever with holidays, celebrations and hopefully a move at the end of this year to a proper house with a garden (and FUCKING PARKING!!!) I couldn't think of a better time to start getting some financial advise for the future. Maybe one day I can have that picket fence and suburban, red-brick castle of mine!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx