A Good Way To Waste Time

Afternoon All, 

I know a day early but the Arsenal game is on and better to do it now than try to find good WiFi tomorrow. 

Boarding the plane on a grey and drizzly Wednesday afternoon I was excited to be soon at our 4-star adults-only spa hotel, the most stars I think I have ever stayed in, considering normal holidays are a little more conservative and less flamboyant. Less than ninety-minutes into take-off there was trouble afoot as a girl in her early twenties (the kind that at school would bully you and make you cry for the way your face looked, only to message you a few years later after seeing you grow into an acclaimed MUA and asked for a freebie because "we were friends at school") refused to wear a face covering and started spouting off to customers. Then a Stormzy-esk Black man, built like a brick shit house stood up and proclaimed something I wish I had heard if it wasn't for my ears not popping. Things seemed to quieten down, but not for long as there was another flare-up, again between Regina George and another flyer, an older woman who seemed to disagree with Regina about the fact that her sleeping eye mask was hardly a good face covering. In her defence, however, I must admit that the thick fluff and layers of material would in actual fact be probably a darn sight better than those some others were wearing on board. 

Nevertheless, agreeing to disagree on the scientific evidence behind facemasks and the prevention of spreading Coronavirus was not on Regina's radar and instead, she proceeded to launch herself over the back of her seat and touch the disagreeing women. This was all too much for everyone and instantly there were lots of people who had needed to "use the bathroom" in order to get a better view or had put down their books or paused the movie in order to tune into what was evidently a much better episode of drama than anything by Jilly Cooper. Airhostess' calming things down it put a patch over the gaping wound until another passenger made a complaint about another for not wearing her face covering whilst drinking. This, in turn, turned into a heated debate with the airline staff about what is an acceptable amount of time to not wear a face mask if you are sipping a gin and tonic. The airline did all they can but soon the slanging match started and I really thought that at this rate the plane will be diverted and I will be called tomorrow by The Sun to see if I have any video evidence of "Karens" in action. 

On landing, it didn't get much better as waiting for mine and Mr Warehouse's luggage a fight broke out between brick-shit-house-Stormzy, someone impersonating Post Malone and another would-be rapper and a white portly gentleman resembling something from the Human-Centipede-2. And all because someone pushed in front of someone else to collect their bags. A few words were said (I think one of them had called him a paedo) and before I knew it brick-shit-house-Stormzy had Human-Centipede-2 almost flat out on the floor. I expected something racist to come out, however, Mr Warehouse, who was in the thick of it on the front line assures me nothing of the kind was uttered. Threats to "meet me outside and we will see" were shot, however, Mr Warehouse were tired and despite the extended episode of Easyjet-Oaks, we had a transfer to get to, all in the hope that neither of that episodes characters would be present on our bus. 

Arriving at our hotel it was late, past midnight and we were shattered from the nigh-on four-hour flight, Airport dramas and two-hour transfer. Our hotel was everything we expected and more. The Poseidon Hotel had even switched out our rooms for an upgraded front aspect room with a view of the sea and a balcony to enjoy the view on, albeit when it wasn't pitch black. The air conditioning was much appreciated and the complimentary fruit bowl and bottle of red wine was a sweet touch, even though we were a little confused at first if it was a gimmick in order to get us to spend more money and charge us. 

Waking in the morning, sunlight streaming in through the window I rose and looked out at probably one of the most incredible views I have had from any hotel window since Vegas back in 2015. It was just beautiful with the pointed mountains surrounding the Mediterranean resort town of Marmaris. I could certainly understand why this was labelled as the Turkish Riviera, squinting as the Turquoise Coastline glittered in the morning sunshine. Looking down from our third floor I could see the palm tree-lined sea promenade and pebbly sand beach, perfect for just getting away from it all. Heading out after breakfast Mr Warehouse went to explore, although not before the hotel had a chance to have a "meeting" with us. Basically, it was a tour operator who obviously got some sort of commission from upselling over-priced excursions and day trips to holiday-makers who are still weary from their travels and have not had a chance to explore the local area for other prices yet, ultimately taking advantage and exploiting the unaware traveller(s). 

We booked some excursions and haggled down the price, scouted out the shops and dabbled in the bargains to be had and how much you could haggle a man down by for a pair of sunglasses. Mr Warehouse had made me so proud. After all the years of knowing him and his constant shame in me asking for a discount or using money off codes and vouchers, the many Youtube videos of Asian fake markets and vlog-hagglers had paid off. Walking into the shop and watching from afar it was clear to see he was a man about to do business on his terms. Selecting a pair of sunglasses and eyeing up (pun intended) a second pair the shop keeper unveiled the price; four-hundred Turkish Lira, roughly equivalent to £40.00. Fake Oakley red and black wrap-around sunglasses and some classic RayBan wayfarers. Not worth it. 

Mr Warehouse laughed nervously as he said it was too much and offered half. A bold move I thought to go in at half the cost. The shop keeper seemed to think so and offered a slightly lesser amount, hoping my fiance would crumble. Nope. Sticking to his guns Mr Warehouse proceeded to tell the man what he wanted to pay and not a penny more. Walking out proved a successful ploy as immediately, almost too easy the shop keeper folded and accepted the half-price offer of two-hundred Turkish Lira, roughly equivalent to £20.00. I was like a mum on school photo day, so proud and urging him to do more so I can see the pro at work. 

That afternoon we went back to the hotel and after awaking from our afternoon nap Mr Warehouse had some bad news. The UK government had listed Turkey as a no-go-zone and from Saturday morning at 4am would impose a fourteen-day quarantine rule on anyone returning from the country. Annoyed and frustrated, we had a couple of options, either pack up where we were right now and try to phone the airline and travel company in order to see if we can get an alternative flight back before the cut-off time, or stick it out and suffer the cost implications. We chose the latter, although when faced with flights of £900+ each for a rescheduled flight home less than 24-hours after arriving, there wasn't much of an option. We knew that this may have been a risk when departing however with my work being possible to do from home, it wouldn't be a huge dip in income, and we could always make ends meet with savings if we really needed to. 

And so we stayed. The last few days have been wonderful; A traditional Turkish bath is otherwise known as a Hammam (although anyone who follows me on social media will know the hilarity of the tale behind this experience as we were ambushed by the spa photographer as if that is even a thing for an impromptu photoshoot; noting in the photos posted the absolute terror in my eyes as he poked his head around the corner just as mere bubbles hide our modesty). Yesterday on our would-be wedding day (the whole reason we took this damned holiday) we also sampled some of the best Turkey has to offer with an excursion we just couldn't miss out on all aboard a boat. 

I awoke that morning and for a short while forgot what the date was and what the day should have meant. I should have been donning a white dress and marrying the man of my life but instead it was going to be very different for all sorts of reasons, but now the date had arrived there was a mixture of emotions bubbling away. I was sad for our day not being when it was meant to and upset I did not wake up with my girls and get ready together, friends and family dropping by to wish me well and tell me to "hurry the fuck up". I was disappointed I couldn't have danced the night away with loved ones and frustrated I still have yet to start the rest of my life as Mrs Barlow. But the day was not all lost as we boarded our vessel for a beautiful island tour boat trip. 

Setting sail from Marmaris harbour, we stopped for a swim break off the coast of the rocky mountain islands Mr Warehouse and I had seen from our hotel balcony. I was brave enough to take a dip, but not as brave as some people, diving in from the side of our ship. A while later we arrived just off Dalyan where lunch was served as a fish or chicken dinner and once finished we were transferred to small wooden boats to cruise on the seas surrounding the infamous Turtle Beach where three different types of turtle come to lay their eggs and where the salty seas meet the fresh waters of the African Queen, a reed-filled riverbank giving the feels of Floridian swaps and marshlands similar to that of the Everglades, I imagine. 

Continuing our journey we sailed past the Temple Tombs carved into the mountainside and said to house the dead of rich and famous of centuries gone by and their Egyptian slaves and into Dalyan, a town on the Dalyan River, just inland from Turkey's southwest coast. Sailing further on to the northwest on the Dalyan shore of Lake Köyceğiz is the village of Sultaniye, known for its thermal mud baths. There Mr Warehouse threw caution (and some mud) into the wind and immersed ourselves in the therapeutic natural clay masks and thermal springs before heading back to the ship for home and a night out on the tiles. 

So far our holiday has been everything we wanted and more. Granted I will need to work from home once back and I might regret coming in a few months time if bills are tight because of our frivolous trip but sitting here having my fourth Orgasm (not actual, obviously I'm in public) in a row doesn't feel like a bad way to spend some time with my future husband. Now where's that cocktail menu again ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Życie dobrze podróżowane (A Life Well Travelled)

Hi, 

Setting off from home the whole family had turned out to see me off, although I think the older one had got a bit bored and headed off down the street, probably to take a shit in one of the neighbour's front gardens. Cuddles with my Frankenstein only made me remember the moments we had shared over the weekend as we had taken our first puppy swim class together and he had done so well. Kissing and hugging Mr. Warehouse I was sad he was not coming as well but would love the moment I came home to him and the puppies. Heading down back home I popped by my Scottish grandmother to say hello, as I did with my Auntie and Uncle. I finished off by settling into Nanny Pumpkins, roast lamb dinner and a period drama I was tired and knowing the early start I was ready to bed down. 

Falling asleep quickly on her Sofa I remembered the last time I was on there and it was not a favourable circumstance. I must say it was not the best night's sleep and I was absolutely nackard when I was awoken at 4.30am to my dearest Nanna asking if I was going to stay there all day or if I wanted to go on holiday. Make-up done and hair in a Halloween scrunchie, I was ready and so was the taxi! The airport was pretty clear, as I would normally expect, so arriving nearly three-hours before our flight seemed futile, but nevertheless, it allowed us time for some overpriced breakfast and coffee and a nice chat. The flight was easy enough and as normal, despite the time, I treated myself to some champagne and nibbles. The flight itself I expected would have been busy but in actual fact was so empty most of the wing seats had only one person in them, something I know as a fact Mr. Warehouse would have appreciated and been the first to jump into given half the chance.  

Arriving and getting through the airport and city to our hotel was a breeze as Nanna had opted for a private transfer, something which was deemed a luxury for Mr. Warehouse and me when we are travelling. The hotel is lovely and is situated in a historical building, in the heart of Kraków’s Kazimierz - the former Jewish district. Within walking distance of the Old Town and the historical Wawel Castle the heated and air-conditioned rooms at Hotel Kazimierz are well-appointed including a private bathroom with a shower and a toilet, as well as satellite TV and free Internet access. We have yet to spend our first night hear obviously and have yet to sample the breakfast buffet which is available every morning, however, I am sure to enjoy a morning coffee, and maybe a cheeky cigarette on our balcony overlooking the back streets of Kazimierz.  With the hotel's jazzy wallpaper and random decor choices, its offering is good for any traveller, couple, single or family with a 24-hour front desk, as well as airport shuttle and free of charge luggage storage. 

I get the feeling, especially so when Nanny and I went to explore the hotel and the "breakfast balcony" where the morning meal would be served. Stepping up the small flight to the balcony I looked around to see plenty of tables and chairs. However, looking over the balcony and peering down to what can only be described as more restaurant seating areas, covering what would maybe be a dance floor I felt as though the building could tell some dark tales. Staring down I had visions of the family running and hiding or trying desperately to escape as German troops and officers stormed the building, as they had done with the whole street I imagine, marching the men outside, never to be seen again and leaving the rest of them to only wonder what next. It gives me chills to think about what happened here but I feel as I did when Mr. Warehouse and I stayed in a hotel in Newquay for one of his cousin's weddings and the feels and creeps I got from that place, only to discover its tragic past of the Hotel Victoria. 

I am sure I will get many more feelings like that, but for now, I am absolutely shattered and after a ravishing meal, I am sooo ready for bed. Tomorrow we visit the Jewish areas of Krakow and attend the Schindler Tour. Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. I shall look forward to the next few days as much as possible without sounding like a raving Nazi, but until then - Night, NIght!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

For The Dead And For The Living We Must Bear Witness

Cześć, 

Well, that was my first attempt at Polish. I suppose I have got to start somewhere, considering I will be in the beautiful city of Krakow this time next week, writing to you all from my Hotel room I shall be sharing with a very dear friend and family member. 

This all started back last year, possibly just after my birthday also, my Nanny Pumpkin came over and upon other things the conversation steered towards city breaks and travelling and some of the things we would like to tick off our never-ending bucket lists. It was at this point that my Nanna had said that an old family friend who had recently passed away the year before had left some money for her and my grandfather in her will, and as a result of my grandfathers passing a few months earlier, she thought it would be a nice way to celebrate them both by going on a trip of a lifetime. It sounds incredible doesn't it - Gothic old city, Eastern European food and plenty of culture to warm the soul. But it will not all be about cocktails in swanky bars and maybe the odd mooch around some shops, oh no. You see being from a long military family lineage, I have become accustomed more than most to hearing stories about the war and the impact that they had not on life here in Britain but also that of other countries and nations brought into Hitler's wrath. And so, along with the Istagramable dinners and sites, my Grandma and I will be visiting the site of one of the worlds most vicious and notorious death camps - Auschwitz. 

Our trip will start on Monday with an early morning flight from Luton, arriving in the city of Krakow approximately midday. I am sure we will have plenty of time to take in the sights and sounds and smells before having some dinner and heading for our room. 

Tuesday will be spent paying our respects and I am sure learning more about some of the most horrendous, and hopeful stories to come from such a place. Auschwitz and Birkenau were the largest of the German Nazi concentration camps and extermination centres. Located a short drive from Krakow city centre, we will visit the site where over 1.1 million men, women, and children lost their lives. The post-camp relics are protected by the Museum created in 1947 in the hope that future generations could learn, and understand how one mans actions can influence a nation to do unspeakable things. As well as teaching, the establishment also helps with research, conservation and even has a publishing centre for some of its work. I have always said that irrespective of my military connections, everyone, Jewish, German or otherwise, as a human being, should visit there if you can. There is no way to understand postwar Europe and indeed the world without an in-depth confrontation between our idea of mankind today and the remains of Auschwitz and the tale sit can tell. 

Taking a break from the emotional stuff, Wednesday will be spent exploring the wondrous caverns of the Salt Mine. With visitors reaching over a million every year it was certainly somewhere me and my little old Nanna were not going to miss out on. However Thursday we will be diving in deep again to hear some hopefully more heartwarming stories on the Schindler Tour. The website my Nanna and I booked through, Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. 

The following day we fly home and no doubt will be emotionally and physically exhausted from such a beautiful but also emotionally charged trip. It's hard to say I am looking forward to it. I mean I am, simply because it is somewhere fresh and new and another Bucket List item ticked off, but also to understand the magnitude of the Holocaust and the remarkable people that managed to survive. I am sure it will be one hell of a trip, one where I should probably start packing!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sunning Ourselves in the City by the Sea

Morning one and all, 

Last week I explained of the issue I had with my Landlord in paying back my deposit which was rightfully owed to be following Mr Warehouse and I moving out in November 2018. No sooner had the money hit my bank account my fiance was asking what I was going to be spending my money on. Jokingly I said about going on a holiday, expecting his normal response of "No, we cant afford it". But, on this occasion there was something different. 
"If you can find a holiday for under £400.00 then we can go!" Mr Warehouse said playfully. And so, heading to my go-to websites I found a flight for under £100 for both of us. Not booking any allocated seats and only one bag between the two of us I was off to a good start. Heading over to the hotel websites I found a great little hotel, less than five minutes from the beach and with a pool and air-con. Even better was the £250-odd that I had been saving up in Tesco Clubcard vouchers paid for it entirely. Malaga here we come!

It was dark. It was fucking dark. But we were now hours away from boarding a flight to the sunshine coast of Spain. We had only been asleep for a few hours after partying with some of my work colleagues at a friends 30th birthday party so to say we were tired was an understatement. However, driving down as dusk broke and checking ourselves through security I could feel Mr Warehouse becoming more and more anxious about the baggage and seating arrangements. After a quick spot of breakfast we were on our way and stepping into the Ryanair Jet, bound for Spain. 

The flight itself was nice and mainly smooth going, helped along by the film Baywatch and a pecan plait from home. Arriving in Malaga airport I could feel the humidity hit as the doors of the plane opened. Reunited, Mr Warehouse and I headed through the airport and outside where we decided not to get a transfer or taxi and instead opted for the local bus, only three-euros and was less than forty-minutes, about the same as a cab. This saved us about twenty-euros and whilst we had not necessarily pre-planned this, I would certainly recommend. As we left the comfort of the bus, Mr Warehouse and I walked through the beautiful botanical-inspired gardens to our hotel, located as described, perfectly between the beach and harbour. 
"So is the pool on the top floor?" I asked the clerk who met us there to show us around our apartment. He looked at me confused. I repeated my question and this time he responded, telling us that there was no pool. Annoyed slightly the clerk and I both looked through the photos n the website and sure enough there was not any, however I was certain to have booked one with a pool that all the holiday apartments shared. Signing away the papers I vowed to check once settled, although after checking it seems I may have been thinking of another hotel that was in running when booking. 

And so far since then our little holiday has been great. Halfway through now and still lots left planned in. Our first few hours were spent exploring and finding the amenities such as the beach, cafes, restaurants and the Harbour before having dinner and getting an early night. Yesterday was spent again mainly exploring and having a walk around the old town of Malaga City. We have yet to go to the traditional indoor market however we have booked onto a trip to visit my fathers birthplace tomorrow - Gibraltar (hes not Spanish, just part of a travelling military family). 

Yesterday evening I think was the best so far by a mile as Mr Warehouse and I boarded a catamaran boat trip to watch the sun set over the city by the sea. Standing in line we waited patiently. Mr Warehouse had ushered that the group of Spanish teenage boys behind us a few meters away were also boarding the catamaran. 
"Oh god I hope there not a little bunch of Arseholes" Mr Warehouse stated. Agreeing with him I nodded. A few moments later the queue we were in began to move and people began to board the boat and take up their places on the netted seating/sunbathing area. 
"Excuse me you were here first," Mr Warehouse said ushering the man stood next to him to take the spot in front of him in the queue. Clear and concise came his reply. 
"No, No. I'm with the group of boys over there" the Spanish looking man said in plain English. Oh Fuck! Feeling embarrassed Mr Warehouse said nothing and turned back to face the front. Whether he heard us or not make the comments about his pose/crew, Mr Warehouse and I now had to spend the next few hours out at sea with him and his gang of 'youts'. 

Sailing away on the deep ocean with nothing but water between us and North Africa, it was nice to see my fiance fully relaxed. 
"I am really glad that you push me out of my comfort zone and to do things and go places I have never been to before" he said, quite out of the blue. Sweet and romantic, my earlier naughty dream only reinforced the fact that I knew he was the one. To think that this may be the last holiday I have with a an unmarried name! The boat trip was beautiful and I have taken many many photos which I am hoping, when I have a free moment that I can make into a little holiday montage and video, similar to what we did with our Tenerife vlog! 

Tonight I think we will head up to the old town again, hoping for some yummy Paella and fresh seafood before a spot of shopping for nic-naks and holiday crap before an early night as we have to be up and out before 7am in order to get the transportation to Gibraltar - The home of my ancestors, named after the rock itself and to be forever adorned with monkey's. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Teachings of Tenerife!

Heyyy,

Boarding our flight I was excited more than ever for mine and Mr. Warehouse's first beach holiday together. And to think it had taken nearly three years. Despite all the planning and preparation for the holiday Mr. Warehouse still stresses out about travelling whereas I find it probably one of the most relaxing things to do.

What was not relaxing was our flight. I forgot just how draining, exhausting and tiring a four-and-a-half hour flight can be. There is the food and drink to wait ages for and when it does come its overpriced junk, the limited leg room (for those more well-endowed than myself in the pins department) and then there is the risk that every traveler faces. That family. You know the ones people, look like they have just come from a council estate in Luton (and I can get away with saying that because essentially I was brought up on one) via the Jeremy Kyle show so as to have a polygraph test on the other half to find out if he is cheating with the neighbour two doors down. At least two children of which are brats and run around whilst the parents are oblivious to their poor behaviour, normally one of the 'little darlings' will squeal like a pig getting a vasectomy just to get the attention of Mom or Dad and in some instances it fails to work and in others the annoying little fuckwit gets a light telling off from the doting parents.

Now I get travelling with kids is difficult at the best of times and I don't begrudge parents bring children on flights or holidays, its a part of family life and as such the conditions for children, babies and toddlers are not ideal. Flying, and travelling in general is very adult and the combination of air pressure and the lack of things to do, coupled by the fact that they may well have had to get up earlier than normal will make for an unhappy adult let alone a child or someone smaller. But one thing I do dispute is the fact children of talking age screaming and shrieking so loud that is actually give people headaches from their misbehaviour and parents seemingly deaf approach to discipline, even on a busy flight to Tenerife.

So yeah the flight wasn't great but landing we were excited about the hotel and what it may look like. For three-hundred quid each, I wasn't expecting much, but certainly expected better. Bedsheets were stained and torn, the oven door was hanging off and the double room Mr. Warehouse and I had booked and paid for was a twin with no zip possibilities to turn into a double. This was not the three star hotel we signed up to, this was more like a two and that's being generous given the little cleaning and upkeep that went into the rooms. Disappointed Mr. Warehouse and I agreed that out run of good luck in bagging fantastic hotel rooms and free upgrades had finally run out. Sleepy from our trip we decided to go out for some dinner and then get some sleep, but not before Mr. Warehouse was offered Viagra, Marijuana and ever Cocaine on a visit to the infamous Playas de la Americas strip.

The following day I complained to the receptionist about the poor state of the room who basically​ said that she would get the handyman round to 'plasty--tie' the bed together so it is a double and make sure that the maids checked to room for cleanliness. Suffice to say it has not improved. Heading out for breakfast, Mr. Warehouse found a lovely little restaurant by the seafront over looking at the mountains and shores of Tenerife. Purely beautiful views, we sat down and ordered our breakfast, revelling in the luxury atmosphere. Finishing breakfast though we headed back to the tour operator next door to our hotel in order to book the excursions and days out for the coming week. More than two-hundred Euro later and we have ourselves a holiday of activities.

Feeling a bit of a loose end Mr. Warehouse and I decided to book ourselves on to a whale and dolphin sea safari, departing that afternoon. With a ninety-five-percent chance of Pilot Whales being seen along with a fifty-percent chance of seeing dolphins we were excited but realistic about an only five-percent chance of seeing turtles. As we waited to board our boat we looked around at the other couples also boarding the same excursion and realised we had made a grave decision in the fact that we did not bring sun cream.

However as we set sail we could not have anticipated the excitement that we felt after seeing Bottle-Nosed Dolphins off the shore of the island, smashing the fifty-percent stat right out of the water and all within thirty-minutes of leaving the harbour. Further on into our trip we found a family of pilot whales and was able to watch them from afar in their natural habitat along with their babies. Wrapping up the journey up we headed to a small cove where we dropped anchor and prepared to dive into the deep blue ocean. Whipping our kit off to unveil our swimwear underneath, Mr. Warehouse and I carried on as on lookers watched the crazy couple plunge into the saltwater below. It brought back all the memories of Kavos with the Tweedles when I had the adrenaline rush from jumping ship into the ocean and Mr. Warehouse agreed that it is an exhilarating experience he is glad to have done together, and to think that it was only our first full day on the island. But as the anchor was drawn up and we set sail back to harbour Mr. Warehouse pointed out something in the water. Brushing it off as simply driftwood,  as it was before on a similar excursion in Newquay last year I thought nothing more of it until my boyfriend jumps to his feet and yelled "Its a turtle!" and it sure enough looking over it was a bright yellow and green turtle swimming right past our feet as they dangled above the waves, clear as the sky above. However I think that the rest of the passengers on board had not seen the turtle and maybe assumed it was indeed driftwood. However Mr. Warehouse and I knew what we saw and he looked just like 'Crush' from Finding Nemo and Finding Dory. Stepping back on to dry land it was plain to see that our first excursion was incredible and myself and Mr. Warehouse agreed that it was the best money that we had spent in a long time, probably even the best value for our entire holiday at thirty-euros each.

That night we decided to head down to the main street in Los Cristianos where Mr. Warehouse and I were more than excited to try out the delights of the world famous Hard Rock Cafe. Unfortunately we were not able to get a table and so  decided to find somewhere else to eat for dinner with the idea of coming back earlier on another night to get a table. Settling on a restaurant near Harry's bar in the same eatery complex called 'Prime' specialising in steak and burgers, we were hungry and thought it looked good. Oh how wrong we were. With the service not being the greatest that Mr. Warehouse and I had received in any restaurant that we had eaten out at before, we assumed that it was just a busy Friday night and that the food would make up for the lack of attentiveness. It began well with the starters being scrumptious as I ate carpaccio whilst Mr. Warehouse tucked into a assortment of Spanish sausages and black pudding (despite the waiter coming back to say that there was no black pudding left). Sadly though when the mains arrived it went downhill very, very quickly. Asking for a rare steak I did not expect it to be still raw on my plate. Concerned about not wanting to be sick on my holiday, I asked the waiter if I could exchange the steak or have it cooked more since the middle of it was freezing cold. He obliged politely and brought it back promptly after it had been sliced in half and cooked further. But Mr. Warehouse did not get off lightly either as his burger which was minced steak was also rare when he had asked for it to be medium. With the mince from the burger being mixed with other ingredients and possibly in less hygienic standards than we expect I suggested not eating anymore, especially since the burger tasted like mould.

Another waiter came to collect our place still full with food and ask if our meal was OK. We could not lie any longer and explained the problems that we had so far with our food to which the waiter politely replied that he was sorry for the upset caused and said that he would get a reduction on our bill. This didn't seem to make much difference though since the bill came to nearly seventy-euros. Leaving the restaurant disappointed and robbed of money, we went back to the hotel room for an early night. However this would not have been the last time we saw the staff there at 'Prime'.

And early morning ensued as we prepared to go to the world famous Loro Parque. Home to some exotic animals including White Tigers, Lions and Silverback Gorillas Mr. Warehouse and I were excited to see them all but most importantly we were looking forward to seeing an unforgettable show with dolphins, setting this zoo apart from the others we have visited over the years. What sets Loro Parque apart from the rest is the fact that it is the only place in the world outside of Seaworld, USA that shows Orcas and killer whales in a live action show. With the way of the world at the moment especially with the controversial subject of keeping Orcas in captivity, it is highly unlikely that my children will never get to see Killer Whales in a show such as this, either here at Loro Parque or indeed at Seaworld, USA. Breathtakingly beautiful I highly recommend anyone coming to Tenerife to go and visit Loro Parque and take the once in a lifetime opportunity to revel in these animals glory and awe.

After returning from Loro Parque, Mr. Warehouse and I headed down to the Hard Rock Cafe in hopes that we would be able to get a table. Timing it perfectly,  we ate our meal which as we had anticipated was very yummy, all whilst we were surrounded by a great musical history. However when we came to pay for the meal I put in my credit card only to hear that it had been declined. Being only our second full day on the island I decided to check out how much money I had left on my card via the App. To my horror I looked at the balance that had been taken for the previous nights meal at Prime. One-hundred euros had been added to our bill for the evening and had promptly been taken from my credit card.

Furious and angry me and Mr. Warehouse marched straight over to the restaurant and demanded to speak to the manager. With the maitre d sensing that there was a complaint coming he called over the waiter that had seen to us the previous night. Explaining my issue politely the waiter was like a rabbit in headlights and it was at this point that Mr. Warehouse went from calmly fizzing with anger to volcanic eruption. Blowing his top, Mr. Warehouse angrily pointed out that it wouldn't have been so bad had the meal actually been decent but even then nearly two-hundred-euros is far too high of a bill for food that was undercooked, tasted awful and a lack of service. Hurrying us to the back of the restaurant where the Bar was, the waiter soon opened the till and took out the money to give back to us, at this point apologising profusely, all in the acknowledgement that Mr. Warehouse had puffed up like a pissed off peacock.

Relieved to have finally got my money back with the help of my little bouncer boyfriend, we decided on an early night and headed back to the hotel. The last couple of days have been a lazy few spending it we have lounged by the pool or reading magazines. Luckily Mr. Warehouse and I found a gorgeous little private beach with sectioned off sea-pool and so have spent a few long hours down there, snuggled on a luxurious double bed with a cocktail or few. Although last night Mr. Warehouse may have had a few more drinks than necessary and ended up sozzled. After crawling up the stairs to our hotel room and gobbling down a family sized bar of chocolate only to vomit it back up moments later Mr. Warehouse has advised me that he no longer wants to drink on this holiday, nor does he want any chocolate. Wonder what the next few days will bring ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Welcome To My Inate Fear Of Children ...

Hello, 

And so I am home, back in Blightly where it has rained at least once a day for every day I have been back. But lets start from the beginning shall we. The evening following the Chinese calamity, The Tweedles and I headed to somewhere a bit fancier for dinner, and this time I got some change. After spending the following remainder of the holiday frolicking by the pool, enjoying long beach tanning sessions and trying in vain to haggle for a faux handbag I was starting to feel the lull that is missing home. I did not realise this at first but I soon thought how nice it will be to get back to reality, back to my desk and back to the dog. Oh and Mr. Warehouse of course. Whilst I was missing the creature comforts of my little one-bed, there are many other things that come from a holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, majority of them good. 

You can almost certainly predict that along with the holiday staples of a night out getting pissed somewhere, bugs, a market day trip and boating excursions, there will also be arguments. Sometimes its about how grey the McDonalds is, sometimes its about who wouldn't come and look at a handbag with me or sometimes it was over the floor in the bathroom being wet. Either way I thought I had managed to have a holiday without the raised voices and hours of stubborn silences, that was until we left to catch the transfer bus. Of course I say we in the loosest of terms as I was not part of said 'we' since Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb headed to the transfer bus without me, not saying anything at all. After a few heated words and some attempts at making good of the situation in hand we arrived at the airport and boarded our very, very late flight home. Obviously I am over it now and I am sure, as with most of our arguments, we can laugh about them later in life. 

Arriving home at three-thirty in the morning and trundling down the path to the flat, trying to be quiet but my cases were making as much noise as they could against the cemented gravel. I soon heard a familiar growl, deep and menacing. It was my darling pooch; Well, half adopted-mine anyway. At least I could say that if there was an intruder then she was doing her job, guarding her home and mine. Coming through the house, making as little commotion as possible not to wake Mr. Warehouse I gave a big cuddle to the dog and climbed into bed besides my boyfriend. The following morning (or maybe just a few hours later) I awoke briefly with a kiss on my forehead as Mr. Warehouse headed out to work with promises of seeing each other that evening. 
"Remember you have a driving lesson at ten" Mr. Warehouse said as he headed out the door. Rolling over I muttered something of a goodbye and fell into a deep sleep.

Phone blaring I went to turn off my alarm in the next room, only to hear a voice as I turned back towards the bedroom. It was my driving instructor. 'Fuuuuuuuuuuuu' I thought. Answering back to the familiar voice I lied about not forgetting, throwing on some clothes and heading out to the awaiting vehicle. The lessons? They're going well. I have finished learning most things now, including a three-point-turn, parellel parking and reversing round a corner. I can now after my last lesson on Friday morning add into the mix learning what and how to do an emergancy stop. They are kinda exhilerating and fun, but I am almost certain that given a situation in real life whereby it would need to be used I wouldn't feel so "pumped" afterwards. 

Enjoying my day off Mr. Warehouse soon returned home and we talked of my holiday and how even still, my phone is not fixed. If anything it has got worse. Since last weeks post, not only does it shut down, restart and freeze automatically it also conducts a full factory reset without authorisation which, in turn, deletes everything in its path - Music, contacts, Apps and holiday photos. All. Gone. So as Mr. Warehouse and I discussed our plans for the weekend we decided we would go and visit Momma Warehouse and the new edition to their family. Mr. Warehouse's newest nephew was a week old and had been born whilst I was away holidaying it up and drinking cocktails by the beach. 

So after a whole day of waiting and hearing back about how Samsung were going to fix my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note4, we headed back to Marston Mortaine, Starbucks and Krispy Kreme in hand. The following day had been dedicated to seeing the newborn baby boy. Would this one day be my nephew rather than just Mr. Warehouse's? I don't know but with Mr. Warehouse in the knowledge already with how unpractised I am around children he relayed this through to his mother on the walk over, explaining in detail the physical restrictions I go through whilst in the presence of a young human. 

I don't know what is wrong with me. My family never really had babies around as my brother was the youngest for a long while and when my cousins were born I wasn't really around a huge amount when they were tiny, tiny. All I need is the gurgle or a creak of a babies cry and I am on edge. I think it is the fact that they could cry at any moment. And they're only a baby so they can't tell you whats wrong. I mean you wouldn't get a week-old-child saying "Excuse me mother but my bottom is wet and I am afraid I may have shit myself. I will require either yourself or some other poor soul ro empty this sack of mine and replace with a fresh one, and none of this leaving me to roll around waiting for you to get your crap together, organise the nappy-station before commencement of operation poopy-nappy." It will just cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. Nothing will console the child. Mr. Warehouse and other more experianced personel tell me that I should approach a crying babe as a matter of elimination in four simple steps. 
1. Is it wet/squishy-bottomed: If yes - Change its bum. If no - Move to question 2.
2. Is it hungry: If yes - Feed it. If no - Move to question 3.
3. Is it  sad or upset: If yes - Cuddle it. If no - Move to question 4.
4. Is it  tired: If yes - Cuddle it and try to put it to sleep. If no - Start process again.

Sounds simple but in reality would it really work? Truth be told, I don't know as when presented with said newborn it was asleep and continued to be throughout the duration of our encounter. I was completely rigid until  the moment it was out of my arms. I think I need to work on my relaxation around babies. They're like horses right; They can smell fear? I was certainly fearful but whilst I looked after this tiny, tiny baby in my arms, sleeping soundly, I did think about my life. I am now of an age where drinking so heavily that you end up outside a nightclub, hair a mess, missing one shoe and throwing up into an ashtray is unacceptable behaviour. Equally though whilst I reluctantly need to accept that my late-teens and early-twenties days of drinking the weekend away in a blind haze of Jagerbombs and Sambuca shots, I don't know if I am fully ready for settling down and starting to build the foundations of a future family life. Not going to lie though, I knew as I looked into Mr. Warehouse's eyes as he held his new nephew the he was getting broody and suddenly it wasn't me who was watching their fertility-watch. Not going to lie though, I did enjoy the cuddles. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx