Heyy,
In a few days from now, I will be probably writing from you in the hotel lobby or maybe by the pool of our holiday apartment in the centre of Malaga, Spain. Sipping on cocktails and sunning myself in the warmer weather I will certainly be glad of the break, especially since it has been a couple of years since mine and Mr Warehouse's Tenerife break! What with saving for a house, my mental health issues and every spare penny going towards our new home Mr Warehouse and I decided against a summer break in 2018. That being said it was not exactly planned this year either, what with the wedding less than a year and a half away now I expected to be ploughing every penny we had not only into our new home but also towards the wedding of our dreams. That would have been the case until Mr Warehouse gave me an ultimatum back in the dreary depths of March. "What will you do with the money?"
It all started when we moved out of our little starter flat in Bedford town centre. We had just received our new keys when we had noted that days earlier paid our rent for the next month up until the end of November 2018.
"Don't suppose you could give us half of it back and we can be out in a fortnight?" I asked my Landlord cheekily. He didn't agree, although I knew he wouldn't. I had, along with my new fiance, a month to move our things out and clean the property ready for the Landlord's new tenants. Clearing most of our stuff in one weekend we made sure to give the flat a good solid three days worth of cleaning, scrubbing every skirting board, every wall, every tile to make sure it was spotless.
I had been relying on my £400.00 deposit money coming back to me before we had bought a lot of the home stuff we needed and as Christmas approached it would have been nice to maybe go somewhere or just have a more enjoyable festive period, especially after the year Mr Warehouse and I had just battled. And on checking out with the Landlord everything seemed to go swimmingly. There were a few items that needed to be collected and taken care of furniture wise however on returning the keys the Landlord mentioned that the carpet may need changing and he agreed that he would find a few quotes and be in touch with a price so I knew how much of my deposit would be used, something we reluctantly agreed to. As the festivities got underway Mr Warehouse and I was able to even steal a weekend away to Bournemouth with our eldest. Soon enough Christmas arrived as did New Years and without a moments thought I realised it had been well over six weeks and I had still to hear anything from my ex-landlord regarding my deposit and what he thought was appropriate for a carpet that needed replacing waaaay before I moved in.
I called and called and called but nothing; texting every time I left a voice mail, just in case he was out of the county or not able to answer a call. After several weeks I tried emailing, however the email I had just kept bouncing back. Hell, even Mr Warehouse had gone round to the Flat after work some nights just on the off chance he may be there but still nothing. Clutching at straws at the beginning of January this year I called the estate agents that originally dealt with me in letting the penthouse flat in the same block. They were helpful and put me in contact with the DPS, Deposit Protection Scheme. Since April 2007, a landlord must put the deposit for the property you are renting into a government-backed tenancy deposit scheme (TDP). This gives the landlord or letting agent's assurance that the tenants will meet the terms of the tenancy agreement, not cause damage to the property and pay the rent/bills.
Finding out where my deposit was the first thing, next was trying to get it back. I found out, again through the helpful lettings agent, that my landlord must have returned my deposit within 10 days of us both agreeing how much you’ll get back. Since it was January and I had heard absolutely nothing since I handed back my keys there was only one thing left to do - Raise a dispute. I was told it would be pretty easy since it was clear that I had made every effort to try any other means of getting this resolved and had the texts and phone calls to prove it. And so I put pen to paper (well fingers to keyboard really) and filled in the online application form with ease. A few days later I had a response and was told that the Landlord / Agent would have a right of reply and that this would be allowed up until the beginning of February, three-weeks away. Should what I thought the inevitable would be and that there was no response from the Landlord then the DPS would look in favour to the tenant and in most cases award the full amount back to me. I was anxious but confident I had done everything I could.
Within a day or two of logging a deposit dispute, I had a text from my ex-landlord, asking if we could meet at the property the following day to discuss the deposit issue and collect the "piles of post that was building up". I explained that the following day was not convenient and since I had been trying to get ahold of him for months now that he would have to wait until the weekend when Mr Warehouse and I would be free. I never heard back.
Friday afternoon of that week came and I received another text message asking about the time Mr Warehouse and I would be meeting my ex-landlord at the property. I explained that since I had not had confirmation that I had assumed it was inconvenient and had made other plans for the weekend. I had instead agreed that I could meet him at the property, along with my fiance after work that day but that we needed to be finished by a certain time as we had somewhere to be, a lie but I didn't want to be waiting around for hours.
Incidentally, on arriving at the flat, rushing there from work in 4pm traffic, my ex-landlord still did not show up for a further forty-minutes, only to arrive and announce he had forgotten the keys so needed to return home to fetch them, delaying the meet by a further half hour or so. During which time I took a look through the windows of my once precious abode. I was horrified to see that in the darkness of that January evening my ex-landlord had completely decked out my old gaff with new carpets and even painted the walls. Terrified he was going to try and charge me all of this, I thought it best to call the TDS and get some advice on how best to proceed, considering I had already filed a dispute. They explained that despite the ex-landlord fully fitting the flat out he would not be able to put that charge to me, even if they were cashmere carpets and golden paint (of which they were certainly not)!
It was at this point that I also found out to my shock that legally my ex-landlord could not ask for any of the deposit to be used on the downstairs flat. You see, when I first moved into the block I rented the top floor 1-bedroom apartment and loved every moment of it. I paid a £400.00 deposit and then a year or so later when the ground floor property came up for rent I initiated a conversation to my Landlord and asked if I could have the first refusal. He agreed and since I had been a good tenant and always paid my rent on time with never any issues he agreed that the deposit for the penthouse apartment would simply be used for the ground floor one and so nothing more was said. Although that had not been the case as the Landlord have never moved the deposits over and for the sake of a letter at the end of the numerals (I moved from A to B), there was nothing he could do.
And so as the van pulled into our old street again for the second time that evening I was relieved to know I had the upper hand and that every penny of that £400.00 I scrimped together for back in 2013 was coming back to me one way or another. A snotty and rather uncomfortable chat with the ex-landlord ensued, something in which I sound recorded on my phone simply for evidence should I have needed it. He accused Mr Warehouse and I of not cleaning the flat and leaving it in a "diabolical state" claiming that there were holes left in walls, paint jobs messy (from the tenant before me I must add) and that the carpets were threadbare and in need of replacement since they smelt like dog and were damaged. Offended I explained about how difficult it was to get hold of him and he brushed it off stating that it was "no excuse for how you left it". Some bully tactics took place and at one point he asked us about coming back to clean the oven, which in all fairness we had forgotten totally about until he brought it up.
"Well," I started, knowing I was fully going to fucking win this. "Considering we had not been able to reach you for several weeks that had turned into months, I was not wholly confident you were going to turn up this evening and even then I was not sure what to expect so, therefore, have not come equipped with any cleaning tools, however, if you would like both of us to come back at a later date and clean this and anything else we would be more than happy to do so." I finished. This caught him off guard completely and maybe expected me to roll over and just agree to be billed. It was at this point he made some excuse about not wanting the hassle and that he would just arrange it himself. On getting down to the crunch however my ex-landlord reeled off the long list of thing we had left for him to clear and clean up, mainly redecorating works which needed to be done really in order for the property to be let again in a reasonable state.
"I have had to pay out over £400.00 for the work I have done here and I would say I am being fair in only asking for half of it back from your deposit? Don't you agree?" the ex-landlord ushered to Mr Warehouse. My fiance, big and strong, chest puffed out like a peacock stood his ground and reiterated what I had said time and time again stating that this was out of our hands and that it was going through a deposit dispute with the TDS.
"Well, we only have to tell them what we want them to know," the ex-landlord said slimily trying to claw back some money from his crappy paint job and cheap carpet.
"Besides, who are they more likely to believe?" he ended. Then, awkward silence.
"We need to think about it" I ended the long period of silence with explaining it was now a joint decision and that I needed to discuss it with my new fiance and come back to him knowing full well I wouldn't and would eventually walk away with my money, rightfully mine.
And true to that, I did. A few weeks later I received an email in my inbox stating that despite timeline and numerous attempts to contact the Landlord /Agent even past the cut-off date for a right of reply, I was being awarded my full deposit back to me. The money landed in my account within a few hours. A couple of days after the TDS settled the claim I received a call from my ex-landlord. I was in the hairdresser's chair so could have answered but in any instance, I would have been at work and so screened the call. I listened to the polite and slightly sinister voice mail, demanding I contact him as a matter of urgency regarding the "damage" to his property and to discuss the "deposit issue" suffice to say that I did not return his call. Instead, I blocked his number and booked a holiday! Malaga here we come!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Bonjour,
So after last weekend's fun and frolicking I felt as though I needed a weekend at home in my flat. With washing piling up alongside the washing up and numerous household chores to do I knew that although I should probably make some time to see my granddad, especially after recent events last weekend.
And after a cosy Friday night and all day Saturday days lounging around on the sofa and watching crap telly with Mr. Warehouse I decided to get off me' bum and meet the Tweedle's in Bedford town centre for some Coffee and Cake. As all four of us pottered round town we became bored with window shopping and Mr. Warehouse lead us all to a wonderful little Ice-Cream Parlour in one of the many back streets and alley ways. Upon entering The Gallones Ice Cream Emporium I felt a huge pressure from all the wonderful flavours. From Salted Caramel to Blueberry Muffin I was overwhelmed by flavours, toppings and sauces not to mention the waffles and crepes. So when making my choice I felt it was only right to kick off the five-week countdown to mine and Mr. Warehouse's holiday to Lyon with a crepe, sprinkled with toffee fudge pieces, drizzled in warm caramel sauce, squirted two cream-puff flowers and blobbed two big scoops of ice-cream; One Tiramisu and the other Espresso Choc-Chip all topping a warm and folded crepe. Haha, if that isn't food porn I don't know what is!
After indulging ourselves more than we should do before a weigh in the following morning I suggested given the fact it was raining something horrible, that we all go back to my place and warm up with some hot chocolate and a good old Disney Film. All in agreement we set off and bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little blue car. After switching on the engine and pulling off as normal there was a massive "Clunk". Stopping the car, we all got out and looked around the car. Had we blown a tyre? Had we just ran over an empty bottle that had popped? Had we hit something? Nothing seemed to be amiss, until that is Mr. Warehouse found a piece of metal in the shape of a horseshoe left in the lonely car parking space we had just vacated. Theorising that it had just come off the car there was nothing left to do but to give the little motor a thorough whizz round the multi-story. Realising that there was now a clunky, tick noise coming from the front axle every time the car turned left or right I had said that the best thing to do would be drive it back to mine, park it up and call breakdown.
Chucking it down with rain we finally arrived at my abode and whilst my besties fretted over how they would get home and what the state of the driver would be who would come to recover them, Mr. Warehouse scaled the car for any other further damage and generally tried to look as manly as can be, which is not exactly hard given his stature. Finally admitting defeat we all scrambled inside and up the four flights of stairs to my penthouse apartment. Offering everyone teas and coffees and generally everything to warm us all up and lift our moods. Calling the breakdown company, Miss Tweedle-Dumb was told it would take anywhere between ninty-minutes and two-hours for someone to come and rescue them. Fortunately they weren't stranded on the roadside of the A6 in the pouring rain. happy for their company for a few more hours than expected we settled in for natter and some crappy background TV. But as the hours past there was still no pick up. Calling numerous times I could see Mr. Warehouse giving me the eyes as if to say he was wasting away, but with my friends almost on the brink of going home to their own dinners I put off cooking mine and Mr. Warehouse's just yet. That was until gone seven in the evening, more than three hours after Miss Tweedle-Dumb called the RAC Breakdown people.
After much persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I decided to start cooking, asking them both constantly if they were hungry or cold or thirsty. I wanted them, like everyone who visits me at home to feel happy and content and comfortable, even if the situation is made worse by silly corporate giants with no human empathy. Soon enough the boredom kicked in and after the usual thing my friends and I do to pass the time culminating in rummaging through my sex toys, reading extracts of my teenage diaries and playing Pictionary as well as the obvious - Dancing round mops like were in Magic Mike XXL which we recently went to go and see (Absolutely incredible! Take a spare pair of knickers, you will need it after this film! Everyone must get up right now and go and see it. Man, women, dog, chicken, lamp-post, you all need to enrich your lives by seeing Channing Tatum getting down and dirty to a song that sings about the cookie monster!).
Finally after much minute using, argument infusing, stress taking, call-centre-shouting, and near-to-tear spilling hours (nine to be precise) my little Tweedles were off home. All of our evenings wasted to some extent. But I suppose on a lighter note, we all got to spend some QT with each other and out of all of this my dear friend Miss Tweedle-Dumb can now get lots of compensation for the horrendous way she was treated and as a warning to those whom find themselves under a motorway lamp reading this in the rain as you too have broken down somewhere cold, rainy and wet - Don't buy breakdown cover with the RAC!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hallo there!
I hope this week finds you all in good health and enjoying the British weather we are having at the moment, unless you are in the Bahamas and reading along or somewhere else hot and sunny to which I congratulate you on your choice of weather and hope someone brings you a cocktail soon.
This week I am feeling much better than I have been with a mixture of Hayfever, a hectic workload and not much sleep resulting in me feeling grumpy of late. However this weekend, spending it with friends, family and good food, all in the sunshine washing it down with copious amounts of Blossom Hill has obviously had a positive impact on me. Something else that has had an impact on me, and possibly put me in a favouring mood is children. To be more specific I should explain before someone starts throwing pregnancy tests at me! No I am not pregnant, or at least I think I am not anyway, but at Sunday's BBQ with Mr. Warehouse and his large family clan I felt more than ever that time was a-ticking and that my womb should probably be put up for rent in the next few years.
I am almost positive that every girl my age has this problem though. There we are in the prime of our life, beautiful and as wonderful as we probably ever will feel. But at the back of our minds we know that there is only a limited amount of time that we have to procreate in. The hurry to get a career, find a man, settle down and start churning out sproglett's is immense and so is the pressure. Careers are limited now, and dating opportunities once college and university is over and done with are relatively slim unless you brave the dark depths of Internet dating. Forgive me for thinking so, but life seemed so much easier for our grandparents. I mean, you were cooped up in education until you were sixteen or so, then you found a nice job working in an office as a typist. Soon a young man would see you about town and ask you on a date. You would go jiving in a 1950's dance-hall and end up courting until your father was approached for your hand in marriage. Before you know it your 2.5 kids a dog and are looking like something out of a Betty Crocker cook book - Or at least in my head I am! Now I am sure that isn't perfect for everyone but for me it would and I am slightly disappointed in the fact I never made it to Uni and therefore maybe never met my future husband?
All of that aside however, if you had asked me a year ago, or even six-months ago, what my opinion of children, especially babies, was I would freeze with fear. Scared by snotty noses, nervous of nappies and wary of whimpers I had successfully avoided all contact with small humans for many years, even my own little cousins. However, over the past few months since Mr. Warehouse and I have been together I have felt increasingly more comfortable around children and babies, although granted I wouldn't know how to look after one on my own. I somewhat cockily think that I will just pick it up. Can't be that hard surely?! There just little people. "Who depend on you for everything" my inside voices say menacingly. And then it dawns on me how horrible that feeling must be. You can't have a lie-in. You can't just hit the town for a girls night out. You can't just make a quick detour after work to Debenhams just because you want to have a look for a nice pair of heels - Hell you can't even wear heels now your a mom! Leggings and flat footwear only for the school run and even then that's only after you have made several packed lunches and have prevented world war three from happening over Cornflakes or Coco Pops.
I know that I am only twenty-three but I am well aware that I am not in a stable enough relationship or even financially strong enough for a child right now, let alone my living arrangements and lifestyle. People, and possibly more-so girls always question I find about "What would happen if I found out I was pregnant right now?" and I honestly think my answer is simple. I just don't know. Maybe before I would have said I would choose adoption or in some certain cases abortion, but maybe now my mind would change right now with my life as it is - A stable stead job, a good and loving boyfriend and a place of my own. Albeit it would be very far from perfect and the life I have wanted for myself from such a young age I think I would still learn to manage. After all, that is my job.
I would definitely have to move somewhere bigger, leaving behind my pent house apartment with its sloped-ceiling, and cosy feel. Instead trading it in for somewhere more practical and with less stairs. I would at some stage have to think about giving up work to take maternity leave to live a life at home juggling Cbeebies, pots of 'HiPP' and a never ending rota of washing, instead of engineers and job paperwork. During pregnancy I would have to give up all the good things like wine, eggs Benedict and smoked salmon. I would have to sleep on my back and not my tummy as I usually do and would end up waddling more than a duck with a chaffing problem. All of this coupled with the lack of freedom, sleep and constant anxiety - Yes, I don't think I would enjoy motherhood as a twenty-something with her life full steam ahead. I would want to do it the proper way; Travel a bit, get a good job, nice place to live, meet someone and fall in love, move in, get married, and then start a little clan of my own.
All that said though I kind of like the idea of being someone's sole provider. Their playmate, their comforter, their mother. I would be the kind of parent that would let them stay up and watch horror films (but only after I had watched them first to make sure they're not too scary). I would be the kind of mom that would rustle up some freshly baked goods when a broken heart is in need of mending. I would like to think that I would be that "hawt" soccer Moom that has all the kids round and secretly shares out some vodka between them all , in moderation of course. Hmm, yes. I think that motherhood would suit me in a way but there is a lot to do before we get there. Besides, a white picket fence and a four-bed detached isn't going to fund itself you know.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hey You,
Hope you are well and that life is treating you a tad better than it has this week. Safe to say I am beginning to think that this time of year is always when something usually goes wrong. Last year it was Mr. Suicide and everything coupled in 'A Week From Satan Himself ... ' and this year it seems that there is something wrong with old people. With a Great Auntie buried this week, my grandfather in hospital, Nanny Tweedle-Dee poorly and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in mourning for a close elderly relatives passing I am beginning to think that I shouldn't be drinking the water around here!
Now I understand that some people find my sense of humour a little dry at times and on the odd occasion darker than most, but I sometimes struggle to explain how I feel or my emotions surrounding death. And god forbid if I was to ever give advice about death or the woes that supposedly go with it. Fact is that luckily, or unluckily, at the ripe old age of twenty-two and ten months I have not had anyone particularly close to me kick the bucket so as to speak.
I have had a few distant relatives or old family friends funerals that I have had to attend, hell, I have even cried at a few but suffice to say that my grandparents all bar one are all still alive and kicking and I still have most of my family left, or at least the ones that have not disowned me yet. It is always awkward when someone speaks to me about death as from such a young age I have been aware of it and its permanent lifestyle mark it makes. When you are a part of a military family like I have been it is easy to learn that one day, sooner or later, that person that brought you up and gave you all they ever could will die. They won't always be there to catch you and I think that is maybe a thesis I carry to this very day. Watching my father cry a few years ago at a close funeral ripped through me, knowing that anything I say or do just isn't enough to take his pain away. Seeing my father fall apart as he croaked out words of happiness as he was so sorrowful made my own heart physically ache at his mourning. It seems the closer they are to you and the ones you know, the deeper and more stinging the wound. Nothing puts life into perspective more than watching grown men shed a tear for the loss of someone great and that was represented no better place than a funeral I attended this week. And those that know me and regularly read will know that the fact of it being on my mothers side of the family just knots my stomach ever more so.
My Great-Aunt had always been in the background of our family portrait but as I got older and became more wiser about the dynamics of my family set up I could somewhat understand why. With her own life, family, grandchildren and up until a few years ago her husband life as usual took over for everyone but my Great-Auntie still remained the backbone of my mothers side of the family until her health started to deteriorate a couple of years ago after her husbands passing. Sitting at my desk a few weeks ago I was shocked and stunned to hear that she had left the living world as we knew it but nevertheless knew she would be at peace with her husband and late daughter. Wanting to pay my respects I asked the family if I could come and pay my respects quietly before the funeral as my attendance to such event may not be likened given the guest list which was to include my own god-forsaken mother. I was welcomed with hugs and kisses, handshakes and pats on the back as I arrived at the small church in Luton. Whilst never happy affairs I seemed to lift spirits slightly with my presence and the ability to tell a good few jokes seemed to be warmly received. Spending most of Tuesday night talking with close family members, my youngest uncle mainly, I was told that I would be welcomed on the day of the funeral and totally kept a watch over in case a certain someone decided to swoop in and cause trouble.
Feeling positive I left to meet Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb for some drinks and more talk of Vegas and Reading Festival. To cheer me up after saying goodbye to Auntie Chrissie they presented me with a value range Iron that I am chuffed to bits about and some chocolate to make me smile. Over the moon with my gifts I departed that evening in the knowledge that within the next twenty-four hours I will be within touching distance of the women I should call Mommy. Donning a black ensemble I came into work early to catch up on what had up until that point been a manic few days. Multiple comments were passed in the few hours I was in the office about how good I looked. According to my colleagues a black and a melancholy attitude suit me. Feeling positive about the whole thing initially I set off for the church not knowing really what to expect or anticipate on arrival. As usual though I was late, although I did bear in mind that its a funeral and she isn't actually going anywhere so it would be OK. And it is OK to say this as I know that my dearest Great-Auntie would have find that hilarious. Stumbling into the church I quietly sat at the back, sang to hymns I didn't believe in and wondered why at such a time as a funeral it all seems to be god this and Jesus that. A little selfish I think given the fact that their not the one lying in a beech effect box at the end of the aisle. Nevertheless I went along with it knowing that this is what Auntie would have wanted. As the funeral came to an end I knew the big guns were soon to be raised and I should prepare for a battle against the vehicle that bore me.
As the coffin was carried out by a mixture of children, grandchildren and nephews I couldn't help the tears rolling down my cheek. A part of me for a few moments had wished that Mr. Cheese could have been there to simply support me but I knew that some day I would have to face things like this alone. Unfortunately no matter how much I wanted Mr. Cheese to hold me, cuddle me and to tell me it was going to be all OK I knew he would be preparing for a holiday with his family I should have been joining him on. Following the coffin out of the church was the family that seemed so distant too me sometimes. My Aunty, Nana and Uncles all passed as did my not-so baby brother, our wailing mother in toe. Thinking I had got away with it I wiped away more hot tears from my cheeks and smiled as I thought of the memories I had with the deceased some of which have inspired me to write now. Only I hadn't got away with it and it had seemed that I had been rumbled. Feeling a hard tap on my shoulder I could see the steadily moving procession had stopped so my mother could face me. Reluctantly turning to face her I stood strong and powerful as she crumbled.
"Come with us Abbey," She blubbed as she tried to usher me in front of her and to join the queue of mourners. I declined, turning away from her as I had done so many times before. Pulling and grabbing at my arm she tried to pull me to the front of the now growing and line of spectators. Feeling as though time was dragging on I declined a second time as she brokenly croaked how I was family and should join the following. A million thoughts and phrases ran through my head as she tugged at me again. Feeling that I was blushing with embarrassment and anger I turned and barked at her that I was not under her spell any more and that I would pay my respects when I'm ready and come out when I am done. Feeling stronger and prouder of myself than ever before I watched as she was pushed along by the crowds wanting to get out into the happiness of the sunshine. Letting out a sigh of relief I could tell that there was more to come.
As the funeral, burial and wake continued well into the late evening I kept my distance from my mother for fear of being lured from family and into a blazing row. The stifling heat drew many of us to the bar and to mingle at other tables which was helpful given the company at my initial table was not of profound quality I would wish to indulge. I spent many hours spilling my tales of life since the events surrounding my parents divorce and other such events and was even able to give a few good jokes making the occasion of a funeral a little less morbid. Noticing that my mother was due to leave I threw myself outside into the afternoon sun to speak with Miss Tweedle-Dumb hoping that I would distract Mother enough so that she could leave without approaching me although I knew that phone call or not if she wanted a fight, she wanted a fight. Thankfully she stayed respectful and upon my return the broomstick and it's owner had left. Soon enough it was time for me to leave and with promises of seeing my everyone soon in better circumstances I revelled in the fact that yet again I came off the better person in all of this and all within the knowledge that maybe cracks were beginning to appear in what my mother had told her family. Leaving the church hall I had been to so many times before I felt good about myself, which is unusual, especially after a run in with one half of my gene-pool.
I couldn't help notice in hindsight people engrossed in deep conversation with close family members of mine whilst gazing at me in wonderment and joy. I later found out that it wasn't just me who was telling people of my pent house apartment in Bedford and my managerial position or my world-wide blog, it was also the family I rarely saw. Singing my praises and constantly telling me I had done well for myself made me feel like despite everything that had happened, this year and beyond, that I was doing alright for myself. As well as being constantly on a proper 'big-up' from my family I was also being poked by familiar faces as to when my wedding day will arise. After telling all prospective enquirers that I have yet to find Mr. Right they assured me that he will be lurking somewhere and that I wont be single before long. Somehow I can't see that either, but going on my first few dates as a single-girl, I'm asking people not to start buying up hats and facinators just yet as this girl has plenty of living left to do. And when the market is as large as is it why settle at twenty-two!
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
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Evening All,
So this week I have indulged a little in some social activities and spending some time catching up with dear friends and loved ones. Friday evening I had an unexpected invitation to a comedy night thing with Miss Tweedle-Dee and her family. The genius that she is bought them all a ticket to a comedy show on the same night at a local venue back home in South Bedfordshire. The clever little bunny even bought an extra ticket so she could bring someone else along to endure her families company. However it was somewhat on the contrary for me as we have been friends for more than a decade I know her family pretty well and as a result get along with them like I would my own family.
As I approached our local bar, I could see that Miss Tweedle-Dee had already had enough and wanted her bed and this was fully authenticated by her posture in telling of her long journey home from work on public transport. If I was honest, despite being really up for a good giggle I would have been quite happy to grab a kebab on the way home to watch a scary film. But Miss Tweedle-Dee and I couldn't back out now and so we all started to head over to the theatre, her slightly boozed up family staggering behind. Sitting in our seats waiting for the show to start we fretted how Nanny Tweedle-Dee would get down the umpteen stairs that descended into the busy room. Giggling and making jokes even before the professionals had come on stage I was glad to be spending time with Miss Tweedle-Dee as it was uncommon the her and myself spent QT alone time.
Sinking into bed beside her that night I resumed natural position of big spoon whilst she cried about a cruise she wasn't on being little spoon. I couldn't help but wonder as she wailed away why anyone would want to spend nearly two-grand on a four day cruise in the middle of a scary deep body of water surrounded by screaming adolescents, two Canadian twin lesbians and a flaming haired ginger lass from Paramore. How anyone could justify that money in any sense for anything other than something critical is beyond me. Despite this I comforted my friend and consoled her until I fell asleep.
Saturday was spent with my Dad and his Girlfriend when we trawled the shops looking for more stuff for the flat and then topping it all off by a pub lunch in summery weather by a lake. After dropping me back home and before leaving Dad and the girlfriend came up to the flat to see what it was all about. Blown away by my hard work and my home-making skills they were shocked into near silence. The Girlfriend was very impressed and I felt that as I showed her around my little abode it only made our bond even closer than before. Taking me to one side and peering out from my huge rooftop skylight she said that this was perfect and would be an ideal set up for myself and a another. I knew what she was getting at and with some things preying heavy on my mind the thought pleasantly crossed through my head making an imprint I can still envision as I sit here at my little dining table and write to you all now.
You see over the past week or so I have had some reflection and I came to the conclusion that for some very special reasons life has improved in recent months and I am now happier than I could have ever imagined only a few years ago. I never thought that life could ever be this good as what it is now.
Life is perfect. Everything has slotted into place and I am feeling
myself slowly become an even more wonderful person because of it all. I have finally got life on track; Employment that is set to last at least a year and probably more with opportunities to travel the world and learn new things. Something I can see myself doing for many years to come and may finally be a calling in life for me. I would like to think that my work colleagues would be people I would cherish for years to come and share all the daily formalities that life shall bring.
I have my little home now that is perfect for me and I am sure will bore many memories for me in the long years to come in which I plan to dwell in it. My father and his girlfriend whom over the past couple of years I have felt has been there for me more than ever and has made more of an effort in getting to know me and bond with me than my real mother ever had in the seventeen years I cohabited with her and the family before divorce tore us apart. The Girlfriend now is such a mammoth part of my life that I can't ever see her not being in it. She really is the mother-figured I never had and someone I know I can rely upon and talk to about anything and everything.
And last but not least, I also have friends that only god (if he existed) could bless me with. We have like all of us had our ups and downs, some more than most but what I really love about my little entourage is that they will always find a way to make light of a situation - Even if that is the fact that your standing in the middle of a Spanish super-mall having a temper tantrum because no-one wants to come and see a pretty bag with you regardless of just spending nigh-on seven hours looking at make-up that even the locals don't buy. I wouldn't want to spend my most embarrassing moments being sick, panicking about pregnancies, wolf-whistling at men on the motorway or falling over in chicken shops and getting stuck behind bins with any other people. Without their love and support over the years I don't know where I would be.
So now I brace myself for I feel that something spectacular may just be on the horizon ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hi,
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant
help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Heyy Guys,
And yet another roller coaster of a week draws to a close. And yet after all that, I have been able to bounce back faster than you could say 'windscreen'. I have a new job. Again. But not just that. If you look as to where this was written you can see that it was signed, sealed and delivered from my new bachelorette pad. I am so happy that it has finally got to this point and have been so busy unpacking and sorting everything out that I nearly forgot to write. Allow me to explain my week ...
So after being a bit down in the dumps about having to quit my last job just purely on the distance I thought that my dream of finally moving in was slipping through my fingers again. Then late Wednesday afternoon I went into some local recruitment agencies and spoke to them, only to walk out of one of their offices having landed a customer service role at a windscreen replacement company just outside of Bedford town centre. Now granted it is only a temporary contract for a couple of months and so is nothing permanent by a long shot, but there is always the chance they could take me on permanently. Hopefully they will so I can stop searching for job's as it is driving me crazy just looking at pages and pages of jobs that have probably been advertised for weeks and have possibly already been filled. If not then there is always something on offer. And I do have a habit of bouncing back fast ... As I am sure you are well aware!
As for my new flat well that was a bit of a surprise. Since my Dad and his girlfriend are too hung up on their own lives and personal hobbies to help me move out (despite wanting me to move out since last year and not wholly loving the fact I was living with them in the first place) I decided to get my Uncle to help move me. And so on Saturday (the only date my Uncle could do to move me) we bundled up all my belongings in his work's van and headed to my new home! Packing and unpacking was a mission and a half though, and I don't think many people will be visiting often due to the fact it has no lifts and I'm on the third floor up four flights of stairs. I like it though. It's cosy and once I get everything sorted out properly then it will be perfect!
No word of warning on the old 'Luuurve' front yet, but I have continued online dating and am enjoying the attention from prospective males; even if they are fat, balding and are sitting at a computer having a lonely handshake with ones self. OK, well maybe not that extreme, but I love the idea that I could one day be talking to someone that will play an extra special part in my life. I haven't met any yet. Although I do plan to have a date with a very nice young man whom enjoys the company of quirky girls who enjoy laughing and chatting about nonsense but also have a fondness for dairy products, cheese included. We both seem to have hit it off pretty well and I enjoy talking to him so much so that we have arranged a 'Date' for this coming Sunday! Eeek! Scary date! I mean it's not like I am terrified of the idea. Its just scary meeting someone that theoretically you know a little of and that you have spoken online to, but it is another to meet in person and spend time together outside of cyberspace. I think that maybe this is just first-timer's nerves (Naughty!), what with being the first time I have met someone from an online dating site in the flesh - It's bound to be nerve shredding. I wonder what I shall wear? Hmmm ...
In other news, I have a big weekend planned. Along with my date on Sunday with the guy I met online, I am celebrating moving in with my good pal Miss Chocolate on Friday night and then following that up with something special for Saturday's twilight hours. I have heard that this Saturday, there will be a new show in the city of London. Starring yours truly. Ha ha. The dating show I was on a couple of months ago are having the Wrap Party in the bright lights of London. Cinderella shall go to the ball - Along with her trusty partner in crime; Miss Tweedle-Dumb!
I am looking forward to it and I know it's going to be a fun night out. Bit worried though, the last time I went on a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I met a boy whom we all know as that prick. Mr Workaholic! Then again, it might not all be bad. Miss Tweedle-Dumb could be my lucky charm in finding love. I could meet a sweetheart from across the bar and we would fall in love instantly with each other. He would worship me as a fat kid worships cake and we would get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Or I could be the last hope in hell of that sweaty nerd getting laid, lurking over there in the corner of a dark, smokey club at three in the morning like a weirdo. Yep, that is probably the story of Saturday night for you. Either that or the usual happens where Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself are dropped to our hotel by a cab and end up eating chicken until we pass out from alcohol. Still Miss Tweedle-Dee is not that bad. She can be very, very funny sometimes. Both her and Miss Tweedle-Dee can be very entertaining sometimes. Besides whats that saying. Sister's before Mister's ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Afternoon All,
Some people have described me as lucky, but after this week I doubt that this would be falling out of anyone's mouth any time soon. Allow me to explain the disastrous week I have just encountered. So after last week's dinner with Miss Chocolate on Tuesday and planning some more frolicking during these long, hot summer's days I was in a positive mood, not to mention finally putting down a deposit on my new home. But then Wednesday arrived and with it some woe.
Wednesday morning was like any other. I was up dressed and ready for work, watching some daytime TV and having breakfast before making my way to the station. After arriving on platform two and now waiting for my train I began to search through my social media channels and listen to music. A normal day. Until that is I begin to notice all the people from the opposite platform start to make their way up the stairs and over the walkway. As I watched this spectacle I saw a young blonde women walk down the stairs onto my platform when I was the only one waiting for the train to Bedford. She asked me to come with her to the ticket station. Panicked I had done something wrong I asked what the matter was to which she replied calmly with 'nothing'. As I went to pick up my bag she asked that I not look behind me. Not taking much notice I hooked my satchel over my shoulder and carried my steel-framed Rayleigh up the stairs and along the walk way. Nothing prepared me for what I saw when I turned to face the uniformed man at the end of the passenger bridge. As I turned to face the man in the train provider uniform I caught a glimpse of something horrifying. A man's head. Severed from his body. Alone. On the platform I had my back to. I cant remember a face but what I can remember is a thick, dark brown mass of hair covering this man's head. The face I do not remember.
As the colour drained from my face and my stomach churned at what my eyes had just glanced over, the uniformed man had clocked what I had just seen and pushed me out of view from it. He started to explain what had just happened even though I knew, telling me what would happen and that it would take up to several hours to clean up the mess. Even as I was told to go to the ticket office it still hadn't set in that I had just seen. A man been hit by a high-speed train. Accident or suicide, no-one knows. The pieces of human spread across the tracks will remain with me forever. The dark, matted hairy head of a man I never knew. All seen on this scorching Wednesday morning.
Upon arrival to the ticket office, I and some fellow passengers was told someone would be out in a second to speak to us. Amongst swarms of police officers, cop cars, vans and motorbikes, we all stood there waiting to be told the out come of our journey's. As time went on I decided I should call work to let them know what had happened and that I may well be late in. As the dialling tone of my phone played in the background I witnessed police men in vivid yellow jackets carry a white body bag with a dark mass at the bottom. This confirmed what I had seen. And as a voice picked up on the other end of the line I started to croak. Needless to say that I was told to go home and get some rest. I never knew that something like this would affect me in such a way it would bring me to tears. A man I never met, only seconds earlier a living, breathing, human with limbs attached and blood racing through his body. And now he was no more.
After finally coming to terms with Wednesday's incidents I returned to work and was grateful when Friday arrived. Walking into work and putting my lunch in the fridge I began to feel a little more normal. It was at this point that life was spun on its head once again for me. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start I get a call. I answered. My agency. As I took the call outside the office I listened intently as they explained how despite everything - The success, the progress, the moving forward in terms of improvement; my employment was to be terminated as of that moment. Devastated I broke once more. After everything I had been told about making all the right moves, about being on track and making brilliant progress that the company had decided I was not worthy of a permanent position. Upset turned to anger quickly resulting in me lashing out at the lady on the other end of the phone. Why hadn't I been tole earlier? Why was it that after an hour-and-a-half commute into work and after walking into the office filled with embarrassed faces and sheepish looks I was to be told now? Apparently my agency was a 'bit tied up' in the morning and so had only got round to them telling me now. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start. Heartbroken my thoughts turned to my little flat. My summer of fun with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle Dumb. The Deposit I had just put down on my little nest egg and now it was all gone. After discussing it further and working myself up I realised there was no point. Whats done is done and there was nothing I could do to change that. I walked back into the office, collected my lunch and walked back out past the sheepish and sorrowful looks of the colleagues and supervisors that ultimately caused such heartache. At a later date I was to find out that my agency was in the wrong and have paid for my pseudo taxi journey home.
And so that concludes my hellish week. A week I never wish to relive. Something that I know will make me a stronger person, but also make me realise just how precious life and everything in it is. Right back at square one and starting the job hunt all over again. Only this time the stakes are higher, the past few months worth of life-savings are on the line. I wither move into my new home and scrap by with everything I have or I give it all up and keep battling through life. Hopefully things will change by the next time we speak.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Good evening,
And what a good evening it is. Nearly a fortnight of beautiful weather here in the UK and hopefully it stays like that. I love how even though I love being British, somehow talking about the weather make me feel much more worthy of such a title. Over the weekend it got up to over thirty-degrees which is hotter than it was on holiday in Majorca. Anyway, enough about the weather, more about my week!
As with most week's I slogged it out at work just so I could make it to the weekend. And what a weekend it was. Reminded me of the good old days when your still paying for your drunken mistakes and dodgy dancing come Tuesday - Of which 'yes' I am still recovering. Now it was just meant to be some casual drinks round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house to celebrate her father's birthday but before we knew what had hit us gone was the relaxing cider on the patio sofa's and there we were on the lawn's doing shots of vodka. How on earth I was able to drink that stuff neat when I was fourteen in the park with the younger Tweedle's beats me. Its almost like drinking bleach, even when it is the premium brands. As the night progressed and the sun began to go to bed the night really started to come alive. Laughing and sharing stories began and before we knew it we had all booked a cab into the local town to hit up some pubs and clubs. As the taxi arrived outside the pub Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I hopped out followed by the girlfriends of Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers. A proper girls night out. Heading straight to the bar we all got some drinks in and started to dance with me acting as main cock-blocker of the night I knew it was going to be good fun.
After a couple of songs and once our bottles were empty we headed to the next bar along the High Street and again, up to the bar we went. Only as we walked in I made eye contact with Mr. Coffee's brother! Bit awkward given the last time we spoke he had just found out that Mr. Coffee and I had christened his bed for him. Not thinking any more of it I hit the dance floor with the girls whilst the Tweedle's grabbed some drinks. Sweating like a fat kid in a cake shop I knew I needed to use the little girls room and so made my way through the crowds to the bathrooms. A few minute later Miss Tweedle-Dee walks in and with a grin on her face says I have to come with her. Panicking that maybe she had found Mr. Coffee and was hoping I was going to have it out with him on the dance floor I obliged. She seemed happy though. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But as she lead me by the hand we came to the warm, muggy air outside the front of the pub. It was only now that I saw the two skinny ladies perched onto a wall, holding onto each other as they tried not to fall into the flower beds behind the wall. They had been chucked out and as a result Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were also out. Sighing we put our heads together to see what we would do next, but before we even had a chance to think properly we were told by the paralytic-drunkards that we should continue our night of mayhem. And so we headed back to the first pub we went into carry-on with the night.
A few hours in and I fancied some air and a cigarette so went outside. I could still see the rest of them, partying away without a care in the world. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee seemed to be enjoying herself, the one person who disagreed with our impromptu night on the tiles. Moments later I was joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who also sparked up. I mentioned that someone should go back to the girlfriends and keep an eye on them, but we could see them from where we were sitting outside so it would be fine for the time being. That was until I went back in to find them. They were no-where to be found. The bar, toilets, smoking area, even the dance floor was free from their presence. Worried I went back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to see if they were there. The girls weren't there. Worried the Tweedles and I split up doing a wrecky one last time but still nothing. We had all there identification and money as well as their mobiles so they cant have gone far. Eventually after an hour of looking round the town we decided to head home and tell Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers that we had lost their beloved girlfriends. Thankfully though by the time we reached Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the girlfriend's had been found to have made their own ways home. Realising it was too late to get a train home, Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me her bedroom floor, and whilst cramped it was gratefully appreciated more than an three-hour wait on a cold bench at the station waiting for a train that may never come.
Also this week, after searching for both an abode and affection, I seemed to have stumbled across both. Wait around for ages and then two come along at the same time, eh? Now I know your dying to know about the 'Mr.' but its super earlier days so I shall not disclose anything yet. In terms of my new bachelor pad, I sent off my application forms and paperwork today and so should hear back pretty soon as to when I can move in, hopefully before the month is out.
It is a gorgeous, old Victorian property that is huge. It used to be an old boarding house for kids from the local towns and villages attending school in the town centre of Bedford so has buckets of character and maybe even a sneaky ghost or two? My flat is on the top floor and has a slanted roof, big sash windows that look out onto the back of the property, and enough room to park a plane. My own little home sweet home. I am so excited to move in I struggle sometimes to stay in one place at a time without buzzing about the place. I cant explain it. The feeling that I get when I know something is forthcoming as big as this just fills me with joy. I can tell I am going to be very happy there! I can finally do what I like, when I like and how I like it because I wont have to answer to anyone. I can eat chocolate and crisps for dinner. I can roll out of bed when I want to on a Sunday. Hell, I can even drink milk from the carton again and run around naked - Although I wouldn't want to make the neighbours sick, so maybe I shall keep my clothes on.
So fingers crossed that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb will come visit me in my new home, maybe then we can have a crazy night out on the town ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
