The next sands I feel between my toes ...

Evening, 

And so back down to earth and to the "new normal", or in our instance, just the plain old normal from before, just with the added holiday blues. Last week I wrote to you from our holiday chalet caravan in Newquay. This week I write to you from my desk, or at least what can be called my desk, in my spare room listening to the rain in the background as Mr Warehouse watches some loud twenty-something Youtube Vloggers loudly discussing their sexual exploits and prowess. 

After Monday's visit to Cornwalls pride, Healey's Cyder Farm (and after spending a small fortune on apple juice, cider, chutneys and jams) Tuesday was a more relaxing day out to St. Ives, just a few miles down the north coast of Cornwall. Known for its surf beaches (and I mean isn't everywhere in Cornwall), its art scene is just as prominent. The seafront Tate St Ives gallery has modern art exhibitions focusing on British artists and outside in the harbour isn't any different with many an art shop or small independent gallery. And if the beaches and harbours weren't tickling your fancy you could always take a stroll through the nearby Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. However, Mr Warehouse and I did not nearly get into an argument on the train with a local "Asthmatic" over not wearing a face-covering for nothing (from Monday 15 June 2020 everyone must wear a face covering when travelling by public transport in England - Unless you have a valid exemption certificate of which my fiance had. Me, on the other hand, kept quiet and hoped she wouldn't start on me). 

Oh no. We were stomping down to the jetty to board a vessel that would take us to sea so we could fish. On the website where we (I) booked, StIvesFishingtrips.com, they say that the St Ives bay is by far "your best chance to catch mackerel in the summer months as it is and has been a mackerel hot spot for years" and to be fair to them, that it was. 

As well as mackerel we were expected to also catch other species including Cod, John Dory, Red Gurnard, Scad, Pilchards and Haddock for your tea, or not. Our trip was only 1 hour & 30 minutes in total and once we hit open ocean we didn't have to travel far and were fishing within 5 minutes. As the only full-time fishing boat in St Ives, Mr Warehouse and I expected to be coupled up with maybe one or two other couples, possibly even just ourselves given it was still early days of everything being back up and running after the pandemic, however, with our friendly but firm deckhands we had the best experience of sea fishing. And with a little help and using top of the range rods and reels I was even able to catch something. Although as our bucket filled and my future hubby and I waited for the deckhands to un-hook all of the fish (so no risk of hooks in hands which are very painful as I experienced a little prick from one) I could feel my insides squirm a little as I watched the fish gasp for air and thrash around in their final moments. I can and could understand why some people would not feel comfortable with this and whole-heartedly would be against it altogether, however, with the boat able to take up to 10 passengers I would certainly do it again and almost 100% so with kids in-toe too, moreso to teach them of life and death and the circle of life and where we all come from and that shit. Well, that and free food!

And although we never got to go to Seal Island, just west of town, to see the seal colony, we were greeted when we came back into harbour with a friendly sea-doggo. As we carried our 8 fish out of the harbour (you think that's a lot, we caught over 14 although Mr Warehouse didn't want to being any home so I thought 8 was a compromise) we felt tired and ready for home time. 

Wednesday was a day out for all the family (not that the dogs couldn't have come with us on the boat, they could have, however an inquisitive labrador and rambunctious puppy was the last thing I think anyone needed on board - Maybe next time pups). Land's End. An area of beautiful scenery and cliff faces, Ocean views for days, Lands End Landmark is a headland in western Cornwall, about eight miles west-south-west of Penzance. To the south of it is the English Channel, and to the North, the Celtic Sea. Out to the East is the rest of England and out to the West was the Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, it was a really foggy day and on leaving Newquay I was annoyed I may not see much and it would be a wasted trip, however, on arrival, it seemed pleasant enough. With miles and miles of open land to walk and crags to investigate it would have been perfect a few years ago, but sadly our older pooch just isn't up for walking that far now. But she did manage up to the tea room for a Hot Chocolate and some more photos. It was quite warm to be honest as well, as it had been most the week, overcast but warm. As we sat and admired the beauty I thought about how lucky I was and grateful I am of the dogs, sitting nicely and patiently waiting whilst we finished our beverages, ready for the next adventure, albeit back to the car. 

Thursday we packed up, sadly so but also looking forward to getting home and to our own comfy beds, and after a pit stop to the Newquay Riding Stables at Trenance Stables, a holiday staple now every time I visit Cornwall. Riding out along the River Gannel estuary, sandy mud bog under hoof I felt at ease and wholly relaxed. I wish it could never end, but it had too and as we trotted back into the stables I thanked the staff once again for an incredible experience riding out along the sand dunes and rivers, I just wish our little ones could join us by the hooves, riding out as many hounds and horses have done over the years. 

As lunchtime approached, Mr Warehouse drove us all back to Newquay to dine on fish and chips by the seafront. Looking out over the beach I became emotional. I thought back to the horrible moment I had to drop our Golden Oldie off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back and how I whispered in here ear flaps, soft and blonde, "I promise we will bring you to Newquay one day so you can feel the sand between your toes and run and play on the shoreline." My thoughts then turned to the fact that here we were and that the next time Mr Warehouse and I visited, maybe even to the same bench, it would not be with her at our feet. Swiping away a tear and sharing my last fish and chip scraps between the two pups, I was sad to be leaving but excited too as it meant we were just that little bit closer to our wedding. 

After a short run along the beach and a play in the wet sands it really was time to leave and as we buckled the pair of them into the back seat, boot filled to the brim, Mr Warehouse started our journey home. Six-and-a-bit hours there and just over five-hours back wasn't bad going. For the short term, we will have our fudge and rock, jams and cider, but until we meet again beachy shores. I suppose thinking about it our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

To Crate or not to Crate?!

Hello, 

Another Bank Holiday weekend rolls round and I can hardly believe that it is June already next week. Since the rigmarole of last weeks puppy trauma through bedtime routines and trying to keep our little Frankenstein happy in his own company I can now safely say that I sit on my bed, writing to you all in peace and harmony,. No sitting here listening to him cry and winge as we wonder what else we can do to try and settle him and make his night-time easier. Nothing. Nadda. Our secret?! 

Not that I would like to admit it but unfortunately we have had to crate him. I never really wanted to and could not see any rhyme or reason to doing it as many people, including myself, hate the idea of and even refuse to crate or kennel-train their dogs because I suppose at least I feel that the confinement is cruel. However, I have learnt that a crate or kennel can give dogs a sense of security and if done properly is also a highly effective management system that can be a lifesaver for dog owners. 

If used effectively, a crate for appropriate time periods is helpful with a variety of important goals, including house training, preventing destructive behavior, and teaching a dog to settle and relax. I had spoken to friends and colleagues, I found out that if a dog is taught through positive reinforcement to love the crate, the crate becomes his own private and safe place, much like a bedroom for a child. The crate or kennel is somewhere the dog can go and not be bothered; it's a perfect destination when the dog is tired or nervous. Dogs have a natural instinct to be in a den and many dogs take to a crate very easily but also teaches puppies and excitable dogs to expect and enjoy some down time, and conditions calm behavior. Crate training also provides a number of benefits to owners as well as a crate that is sized properly encourages a dog's instinct not to mess where he sleeps, helping to teach the dog bladder and bowel control. A work colleague suggested using a crate to stop him getting into trouble when Mr Warehouse and I can't supervise directly especially at night but also when we are at work or busy cooking. Whilst everything was and is good during the day, nighttime was the worst and after last Tuesday evening I was certainly not taking any more chances with our house as it were. 

Tucking him in and making him feel as comfortable as possible I came upstairs to meet Mr Warehouse in our bedroom. Following another hard day in the office with constant spreadsheets and updates and phone calls to make I was pleased to see a comfy bed, a smiling face and our favorite TV show ready to go on the box. Settling into the comfy warm sheets we pressed play and forgot a little bit about the screaming puppy downstairs. However, twenty-minutes later after the show had finished and the credits began to roll IMr Warehouse decided to go down and check on him. 

Laying in bed I heard as he opened the door to our lounge and expected a greeting of whimpers and yelps. Instead all I heard was shouting and distress calls from Mr Warehouse to come downstairs. On jumping out of bed myself and the older pooch (who had been sleeping in our room since our puppy arrived) trundled downstairs. Step by Step I wondered what it might be probably poo or maybe a wee in the corner. But as I turned to walk down our hallway and into the living room I saw what the yelling was about. There at the foot of the doorway leading into the lounge I saw concrete. On top of the concrete base some colourful underlay finishing it all off was our frayed, chewed up and spit out cream carpet. I was devastated. What on earth will the neighbours think for even worse what would our friends and family think when they come round. They will think that we are bad dog parents. They will think that our little pup is a fucking arsehole. I mean obviously he is as anyone who is able to destroy something like that in the space of twenty-minutes is not very well behaved. 

The following day I crumbled and after much persuasion from Mr Warehouse I went out and bought a crate for our little Frankie. As before, I never really wanted to as I only thought of it as being a crappy way of dog parenting and only shutting them away when you were not bothered to look after them. However after more research from friends and colleagues, I have been assured that it is the best thing for not just myself and Mr Warehouse but also for our home and puppy himself. Turning to the interwebs, Cuddles.com offers some words of wisdom and even some helpful advice to stop this from happening again. Dogs of all ages can take a liking to carpeting and concentrate on destroying it. The sooner you detect the behavior and do something to stop it, the better. Covering the spot with a piece of furniture and directing your puppy's attention somewhere else are all helpful hints and tips that he article from Tammy Dray has written on "How to Stop a Dog From Ripping the Carpet". Even spraying the areas he's going after with vinegar could help she says. "As soon as Doggie takes a bite out of the carpet, he'll taste the sourness and take off. If you have very expensive -- or very white -- carpet, you might want to call the manufacturer first to find out if vinegar is safe. You don't want to end up with a huge stain."

So now the hunt is on to try and cover it up as best as possible. Hiding it from everyone and hoping that no-one that reads my blog comes over before we have a chance to fix it. Fixing it though? Well it was always something we were going to change given half a chance and following a deep spring clean we realized that it probably needs to be sooner than later. Looking into the paperwork though you would have not thought it would have been as difficult as it has been for all of the information is there. The flooring type, colour, make, model, even the manufacturer. However after numerous emails and probably many more replies I am only finding people that are able to sell it to us. Unfortunately, what I am a genius at most things floor fitting is not my forte Besides, I think with "The Destructor" in the building we will certainly need a professionals touch! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Battle of the Vom!

Evening All,

So after last week's dreamy slumber, I am most definitely back in the reality of Blighty. I would say I am enjoying life as I know it but with the last couple of weekends being spent puking and poorly inside the flat, I haven't had much opportunity to venture outside and explore apart from my morning commute. 

It all started last Saturday when I went out for a lovely brunch with my Auntie and Grandma from my Mother's side. With my pre-teen cousin in toe I soon felt a whole lot older as he started to "Dab" his way through his iPod in the middle of Sainsburys. Nevertheless getting home afterwards I made myself some lunch and, with Mr. Warehouse away with Mr. CWG at a gamers convention in Birmingham, I looked forward to an afternoon of catching up on shite TV. Crunching down my Tivo Box I suddenly started to feel a pain in my stomach. It was almost how I would imagine a stomach cramp or period pain to be, but as the afternoon continued and the evening set in it got worse. By the time Mr. Warehouse had arrived home I was bent over, crippled with the pain in my abdomen. Taking a couple of paracetamol I curled up on the couch and watched some Saturday night telly, but after being violently sick numerous times, I finally fell asleep on my boyfriends lap before being carried to bed. 

Waking a few times throughout the night to be sick again I was still exhausted when the sun broke through our window. Although feeling much better I put it down to maybe eating some dodgey chicken, out of date milk or just a twenty-four hour bug. Feeling much better I thought nothing of it and continued to work the following day. With the working week dragging by in a haze of things to do, office gossip and chitter-chatter we were all finally at Friday. And up until then I was looking forward to the weekend. Mr. Warehouse's brother was taking his fiance out for a birthday meal and wanted us to look after the kids; a six-year-old, four-year-old and a four-month-old baby. We had happily obliged (There was a takeaway in it for Mr. Warehouse and I ... We're not stupid haha) and I was actually looking forward to a weekend playing Momma's and Dadda's. I had already started to carve out my leading role as bad cop and designated an area for naughty little ones, whereas Mr. Warehouse had firmly got into his role by supplying our cupboards with chocolate and sweeties! 

But after I returned from lunch on Friday afternoon I felt an all too familiar twinge in my stomach again. The cramping had started again. Looking at the clock and seeing it was gone half-one in the afternoon I considered my options. "There is only a couple of hours left in the working day, just make it to four-thirty and then you go straight to the doctors, you hear me!" I told myself, egging me on. It didn't work. Within a few hours I was falling apart. I had been sick in the toilets, multiple times. So much so there was now nothing left to come up, resulting in a lurid yellow bile consisting of stomach acid and not much more. As I returned to my desk, mascara awry and nice 'Friday' hair now in a messy bun I didn't need my work colleagues to tell me I looked rough. I felt it. Finding my manager downstairs I ushered him over and explained I had to go home after being sick. I didn't want anyone else to get it if it was serious and in all fairness, I knew I couldn't answer the phone and vom at the same time. 

Calling a cab and waiting the half-hour or so for it to arrive was excruciating. It seemed like every time I wretched it made it worse, adding to the already tight and tense muscles in my abdomen. I felt as if I was giving myself a six pack, which of course would be very difficult since I was a size 18/20. Getting into the cab I closed my eyes hoping that the journey would be swift. It was not. "This is certainly not the fucking time Taxi-Cab Man to be giving me a sceneic tour of the Bedfordshire countryside surrounding Kempston and Bromham!" I thought to myself as I opened my eyes for a second to make sure the cup I had "borrowed" from the canteen was in place for any "spills". Concerned, the Taxi-Cab driver asked if I was OK but with all patience lost I exclaimed, louder than I probably needed to:
"I would be if I wasn't throwing up into a cup in the back of an already late taxi en route to the Doctors because I think, I have come down with an fatal case of Gastroenteritis! Now unless you want this stomach smoothie all over your seats I suggest you put your foot down!"

Arriving at the doctors, barely able to walk without puking I fell into the arms of my awaiting boyfriend. Staggering to the front desk I checked myself in a I think I must have fallen asleep on Mr. Warehouse as it seemed very quick I was seen. Into the doctors office-room-place I sat, still with half of a boots counter running off my chin, my hair in a Mrs. Trunchbull bun and sick probably down myself I was certainly far from last weeks "Girl I would want to marry" I thought. Examining me from top to tootsies the brilliant lady nurse diagnosed me with having a viral infection and because I studied in my Science and History of Medicine classes I knew that the only way I would be getting better would be rest, pain relief and sleep. I had probably just had a second bout of it after Saturday since my immune system was low and had been attacked once more. Leaving the surgery, I was given a bedpan-thing to be sick into and a box of tissues. Boarding the bus I must have looked a fucking state. So I chose to sit next to the prettiest girl and make myself look a little better, all whilst trying to infect someone skinnier than me. Bitch!

Getting home I was hoofed into bed by my dear Mr. Warehouse and told to sleep. But after periodic snoozes, retching and violent vomiting fits, I couldn't wait until morning broke and I could shake this all off. Waking the following morning on Saturday with very little sleep behind me and a bucket of proof at the edge of the bed I tried to carry on as normal, nibbling at things and drinking plenty. I snoozed most of the day and felt much better by late-afternoon. I didn't want to let down Mr. Warehouse's brother and the children as they were looking forward to coming over to see their Uncles house as much as we were looking forward to hosting them, so I kept quiet about my episodes the evening before. But, spending the night curled up on the sofa, Kiddies half asleep and baby napping too, it was the perfect evening and much better than what I was anticipating. Bad cop didn't even have to rear its head. Well, at least until the children went home! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Like Waiting For A Bus ...

Evening everybody, 

Hope all is well in the land of wherever you be reading, fine fellows. Here in Blightly as some of you may have noticed is fucking freezing. Quite literally - It was snowing here in the 'Shire. Which is why I now in my toasty little flat with a blanket draped over my legs. Yes. I am naked as I write and as brutally honest I could be much more honest with you all on some of my most recent feelings, but I shall not dwell on them before I have to. All in good time. Instead I thought I may share some warmth with you and try my hand at some erotic fiction. Now I must warn you that this is maybe not for the faint hearted and nor should you be reading whilst your Boss is in the same room, besides shouldn't you be managing an Excel Spreadsheet or drafting up a letter. For this is something special, a personal experience, and one that I will never forget - All I can say is ... FINALLY!
Enjoy!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

---

It was a cold and blustery evening in late December when the young, blonde and her current partner, were lying on a pull out sofa-bed, watching junk TV and scoffing even junkier food. After hours of relaxing and laughing in each others company the mood suddenly changed. With the mind racing (and somehow playing Barry White at the same time), she experienced her lovers hot kisses, leaving light wet stains down her pale neck as he trailed down her warm body. In vain, she tried to keep her breathing slow and steady whilst allowing  her spirit to be taken over. Hearts starting to skip, beating harder and faster making the young women breathe heavier as he went even lower. As he cups her supple breasts in each hand she whispers for him to take her nipples to his lips and begin to nibble and suck lightly making her moan softly, throw her head back in pleasure, long, blonde hair tumbling over the both of them, cascading down her voluptuous body. 

"I can feel myself getting wetter with every kiss you place on my smooth skin" she says as he tugs on her chest once more, swiftly making her convulse with pleasure. Slowly his hands start to run across her warm stomach and down to the hips where he holds them tightly, pressing his palms into her pelvis to stopping her body writhing from the pleasure. 

"Its too much. I need you. Now." she pants in his ear. "Take me" she says in deep, hushed tones. Breathing heavy and kissing passionately he grasps her neck and face in his manly hands, tugging playfully on her long locks and she knows to return the favour running her deft fingers through his hair. Holding the nape of her neck as he kisses her - Long, passionate, meaningful kisses. This is making the tension between them harder to resist. 
Slowly she trails her hands to his crotch, playing with the waistband, teasing making him feel the pressure as much she is. Inch by inch she gradually makes it into his tight underwear. Feeling him throbbing in her soft hands she moves him up and down, pacing them both until their breathing gets to the same speed. Feeling him succumb to her charms was exhilarating and knowing this just by looking into his eyes and hearing him groan, she moves faster until he cant take it no more. Releasing himself she ran her fingers along his silky shaft whilst he kissed and bit at her décolletage. 

Grabbing at her waist, he shifted her so she was finally underneath him, revealing the silken bedsheets swaddling the make-shift bed. Looking into each others eyes lust takes hold and suddenly they are pulling at each others clothes violently trying to get them off as quickly as possible, sensually making-out as they undressed. As she ruffles her fingers through his hair, he moves south and in the knowledge of how moist she was, he tugs off her underwear. Finally he bury's his head between her strong, toned thighs and with a strong hold on her pelvis begins to taste her, as hot as the tension between them. She could feel herself getting higher. He could feel it too as they entwine their fingers, steadily climbing to the peak. Again it gets too much for her to handle and just before she climaxes he stops and join's her in the Northern-hemisphere. 

As he clutches something long and pink, bought by someone old, he smiles knowing just what an impact this joyous stick will provide. Smiling he slowly caresses her lower body with the vibrations, holding it close to her making it even more intense and highly-strung than before. She was so sensitive. So moist. So ready. He can tell just how amazing this feels for her and getting more and more excited himself he continues to stimulate her Nether-Region. Harder he presses. Faster he moves. Deeper he thrusts into her and higher she climbs. Oh god. More! More! Please! She begged him to pull her in closer and hold her as she climaxed. Getting hotter she felt the waves she had read about and heard tales of so many times as her and her friends sat around at dinner discussing it. Rolling waves of heat and chill soon enough lead her to the peak. Eye rolling, back arched, body uncontrollably shaking and quivering with excitement she came, her world crashing around her in a spectacular first ever orgasm. He wasn't about to give up though and getting off himself in this torturous pleasure-game as mere seconds later it was in another blazing glory that she climaxed again, coming a second and a third time.  

In the moments that followed he wanted her for himself and as they spend moments staring into each others eyes, all she wants is to feel him inside her, getting deeper and harder. She does not have long to wait as he teases his way into her, prizing her legs apart and squeezing her waist as he enters slowly. Gasping as she feels him stretching her and letting out a little moan he starts to get harder, tensing his manhood as he thrusts into her once more making her cry out in pleasure. She knew by his contorted face that he was not far behind and as she tightened herself around him. She could feel him. All of him. As she whispered breathlessly sweet nothings into his ear and softly bit the earlobes of her partner, he held down her hips, his grip getting harder he let out the longest, deepest, animalistic groan she had ever heard. She felt the shudders from his core as he groaned once more, finishing deep and hard. 

Exhausted he collapses, snuggling his head into her breasts. There they lye for a while as she plays with his face until he pulls her into his chest where they fall asleep in each others arms, both of them blissfully unaware of the world outside and just how different it is, now she has experienced her first orgasm that is!

Those Three Little Words ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx

Afternoon One and All, 

So this weekend was an inciting one with much to do and see. Also something unexpected and so out-of-the-blue even I didn't see it coming. But maybe that is how it was planned. Unplanned! Well whatever planning or un-planning went into the act it certainly gave me a skip in my step this morning and made my commute back home to my job in Bedford all the more better and as I write to you from the train hurtling through the English countryside I am smiling, conscience that this may not be anything of huge magnitude, but to me it is. Early morning Starbucks did help though! 

Friday night I had my favourite people round, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee and amongst idle chit-chat we discussed the more important things in life like having banana's for hands and indeed spelling the word banana, which at nearly quarter-to-midnight I was failing to do without the help of my academic side-kicks! After ordering pizza delivery from Domino's we decided to escape for a cheeky cigarette. Whilst we awaited the man with our order we took to talks of weddings and other such girlie stuff. Using the pavement as a aisle we joked about what we would do and how hilarious it would all be. As Miss Bride's wedding approaches in the coming weeks, I look forward to a time whereby my friends and I shall also join the club of marriage and leave behind Singlesville with all its meals-for-one and empty beds. Yes, instead we shall swap lives so that we can bicker about directions and only have sex once a week. Oh Joy! The part of my evening with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee that I enjoyed the most was the prospective speeches that were to be projected at my celebration as a Missus. Stories of years gone by including the time I got so sun-burnt I threw up every time I looked at myself, the time I decided to go blonde and ended up looking like 'Big Bird' from Sesame Street and that time where I threw a tantrum in a Spanish shopping mall because no one would come and look at the bag I wanted to buy. Incidentally in that case Miss Tweedle-Dee did come and look at the handbag with me but resulting in no purchase - I was too pissed off. And so I look forward to the day whereby I don't only become someones wife and forever, but I also am blessed with friend's like these whom share in my every moment, no matter how awkward or embarrassing. Thanks Guys!

After a potter round town on Saturday afternoon I hopped on the train to meet Mr. Cheese from his volunteer placement at The Brixton Windmill. As it started to rain heavy I went in search of the preoccupied boyfriend wandering around Brixton Market aimlessly to kill time whilst I arrived. After a soggy hug I was described as 'Wet, Cute and Sexy' by that wonderful man, although I'm not sure how I can do all three at the same time. Go me I suppose! After dinner we boarded the Tube home with the promise of looking at hotels and things to do for our up and coming first Mini-Break to Bristol together. Our trip is planned for a few weeks time, just after Miss Bride's wedding and just before the World Cup 2014 in which like any women with a football mad other half I shall mourn their loss to the great game until July sometime. I however would class myself as a conventional girlfriend where by I am happy to sit in a pub be fed cider and pork scratchings whilst watching moderately attractive men run around in little more than hot pants, occasionally groping each other. Yes, a great game indeed! Although not as good as Rugby! I digress though, and a proper holiday, albeit the Christmas Getaway last year with the family will be much deserved and much fun for us both. Although it was not to be as an unlikely haze took hold of Mr. Cheese and struck him with an arrow of lust and unspent energy. 

Starting off unconventionally on the Tube home from dinner at Honest Burger in Brixton, I shared with my boyfriend a kiss that would make anyone knees give way. Good thing I was sitting down. Passionately kissing me as we begged for the Tube to be empty of the only other occupant in the carriage to leave I embraced his passion and added to it myself, entwining ourselves in each other in a haze of young lust. Walking home from the station we could hardly contain ourselves, knowing that a flat free from house-mates and a neighbour with a heightened sense of sound to piss off I felt more excited than I had done in months. 'This was what I was missing' I thought. With promises of looking into a break to Bristol in June, we unlocked the door to the three-bed West London pad with a new agenda that didn't include taking off our pants. That failed and before I knew it I was lying on the Greek flag, being Falafel-ed! I think Mr. Cheese put it right when he said to me drifting off into a cuddly slumber that nothing would have got done that night anyway. 

As my boyfriend kissed me on the lips Sunday morning I smiled although conscience of my apparently putrid morning breath. Hiding it as usual I snuggle back into his chest like a woodland animal not wanting to rise from the bed until wholly necessary. Unfortunately this was to come too soon as Boyfriend and I had the company of a good friend Mr. Cheese knew from school and university for the afternoon. Slipping on some heels and making myself look presentable I hoped I would be somewhat a talking point of lad-banter when I tottered to the bathroom or the bar to refresh our table with snacks and drinks. Although following the afternoon of football, cups and goals I decided to go back home with my boyfriend and snuggle for a bit before heading home. Secretly I didn't want to go home and wanted to try my luck at the bedroom-game but with the ill look on his face setting in I knew what my Mr. Cheese needed was for me to wrap him up and tuck him in bed with a nice cup of hot, loose-leafed tea and cuddles. This was not the case yet again. 

Eyes squinting, I peeked out from behind the fluffy animal-print throw. Light blistered my peepers making me not want to get out of the cosiness I had found myself. I was naked and not alone. Yes, the person that stared back at me was my sleepy boyfriend. Sickness prevailed and I could tell he was unwell. Snuggling under the sheets he pulled me in close as I realised I was naked again and the implications this may have for the near future of my nether-regions. Poor Mr. Cheese. He was sick, so I probably shouldn't have come on to him, but nevertheless I did. A back massage later and craving something more than just rubbing, I straddled him, soon discovering I would not be getting what I wanted. I suppose I shouldn't be greedy as the following evening had been spent (quite literally) in a whirlwind of pleasure. I am hesitant to use the word ecstasy as that word is commonly used to describe orgasm, to which I still have yet to find at twenty-two but that is neither here nor there. As we spooned in the harsh glow of the bedroom light I recalled in fondness the way Mr. Cheese pandered to my every desire the previous evening. My arched back. The shivers down my spine. The eruption of pleased squeals from my lungs as I cried out his name in the moment. Ahh yes, the satisfying evening prior! 

Napping until just gone nine at night though after a passionate encounter was the norm with us. And I enjoyed it. It made me feel young and throw-away and reckless, not caring for the hours knowing that I had so many left ahead of me. Realising that the massage had done the opposite affect that I wanted I decided to turn my head to cake instead (as one does when one is not ravaged on the spot). The lemon tart Miss Tweedle-Dee had bought me Friday night had made the long journey from Bedford to Chiswick and was about to be sampled! Serving up a warmed slice accompanied with tea and coffee I entered the lounge and joined Mr. Cheese on the couch to watch some traditional wildlife TV before bedtime properly. Again Bristol Mini-Break didn't get a look in but the thought was there. As we positioned ourselves facing one another again, noses barely touching, I suppressed the compulsion to say the 'L' word, unaware that it was only hanging off the other persons tongue. 

Waking naturally I wondered to the time. Looking at my phone I noted that I still had a few moments I could steal away between the sheets before I had to dash back to my job in Bedford. Due to the ill-health of the Boyfriend I decided to stay last night in Chiswick to care for him and make sure he was OK. He seemed worse when I woke this morning, clammy and tired. I worried for him and really tried hard to think of ways I could stay, knowing that I couldn't, not when I was only a few weeks into my new role. And so as I prised myself from Mr. Cheese's weak grip I asked if he wanted tea or breakfast. The reply was a short and sweet declination. I offered him anything else he wanted and he reached out for a cuddle. How could I deny him that. Of all the simple pleasures in life this was one of them. Getting dressed I tried not to rouse the sickly Boyfriend too much although he did say how wonderful it felt to be feeling so terrible but able to wake in the night and just reach out to someone just across the pillows. And as if that didn't touch me enough I was bowled over by what was to come next. 

Pulling on my coat and borrowed scarf from Mr. Cheese I knew that the 6am London air would be chilly and unpleasant compared to the warmth of the flat. Nevertheless I knew I had to go and that if I didn't go soon I would be making a convincing phone-call to my boss explaining why I wasn't coming in. Asking once more if there was anything I could do for him I bent down to kiss him goodbye. Flashes of role-reversal invaded my mind as I saw myself being kissed by Mr. Workaholic before he left for work, leaving me too in bed. Casting those thoughts aside I rose to my feet, only to be tugged back down for another smooch. This time it was for real - I had to leave. And maybe it was the conscience illness talking or maybe it was straight from the heart I had listened to beat only a matter of hours ago snuggled up on his chest, but one thing is for certain and that is that this morning, I heard clear as day; Mr. Cheese said 'I Love You'!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

How To Wrap Bread and Other Stories!

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Morning All, 

So after looking back through the altercations of last week I realized it was slightly melancholy if I do say so myself. Thankfully things are starting to peak but not after some rough "single-girl" moments that I have had to endure this week. Nevertheless I have improved my mood and you'll never guess what did it ... 

Friday evening rolled around and after regretfully turning down a night out with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tatts and some old friends I settled down into the sofa, grateful that this will be the last night sleeping on it before my mattress was due to arrive the following morning. However after watching 'Bridesmaids', a film I had been meaning to see for some while, I ended my evening crying into a lone scatter cushion wishing that I too had a man that wanted me that much. Irish accent and being a cop were obviously optional but I wouldn't turn many people down - Unless you had a face that looked like a bag of burnt Lego bricks! Finally I settled down in bed, thought the same old thoughts I always do before drifting off into a deep and warm sleep. Thankfully I didn't have one of my reoccurring nightmares in particular one's of my own wedding day. In hindsight now I don't think I have ever had a pleasant dream of my wedding. There is always something going wrong - The groom doesn't turn up, my dress is ugly, my Dad dies before he gets the chance to walk me down the aisle, my mother turns up, Mr. Workaholic burst's in confessing his undying love for me and I somehow have to get him out or even worse, I'm early. The latest was whereby I had know idea whether my groom even wanted to marry me or not. It was terrifying. And yes, I did know who the groom was. Although it wasn't all bad though as my nightmare ended in a dream-like state when I found myself being rushed down an empty street crammed full of attractive suited men. Only issue is that I was lying belly first on a hospital bed with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee pushing it down the road, wedding dress up by my tits, flashing all the boys. Seriously don't laugh. Whilst it was an entertaining end it still had me waking up in a sweat!

As morning broke on Saturday I aimed to have a productive day and maybe head out into the Town Centre for some shopping or actually tidy my little flat. None of that happened and I ended up spending the majority of the weekend wrapped up on the sofa, eating and watching crap. It dawned on me that having a boyfriend or even someone of such status is much better than being single. I was starting to hate single life right there and a part of me yearned to message Mr. Cheese. It had crossed my mind then to message Mr. Minigolf since I had not heard from him since he cancelled our date. I suppose a part of me knew that it was a lost cause as he hadn't contacted me at all but I threw caution to the wind as per usual and tapped out something generic. To my surprise within minutes I had a response but conversation quickly dried up. Getting darker outside it was clear I wasn't to be moved from my couch let alone venturing outside! As the weekend telly kicked in I watched people kissing, holding hands and even one happy couple share their engagement with the world on live TV. Aggravating as it was to Single-Me, Relationship-Me loved the idea and praised the man's bravery. Begrudgingly I made cookies to take my mind off things but that didn't help and neither was the romcom I watched later on and I was feeling crappy with a mix of junk food, lack of male attention and my lonely self seemed to make everything ten-times worse. 

My mattress had been delivered earlier that afternoon and was freshly sat on my bed ready for my weary head, I couldn't help stare at it thinking that this was the epitome of Singlesville. Not wanting to I clambered into the clean, crisp sheets and snuggled down. Looking up at the stars from my roof light it felt as if for the first time this year I knew that everything in life was going to be alright. Sunday I planned to be more structured and aimed to get more done. It was not an attempt in vain and whilst everything still has not got a place in the flat, slowly but surely its getting there. Sunday evening I had been invited to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family home for a roast and much appreciated that was. Cooking a roast for one is just so sad and lonely and the cardboard ready meals are even worse! Before dinner however was a good old chin-wag with Miss Tweedle-Dumb. I thought about talking to her about Mr. Minigolf and the fact that we had been messaging most of the afternoon but I didn't want to jinx it as I was starting to like him a little and knew how easily things could turn sour. Instead the conversation turned to our work processes again as we had discussed also on Thursday evening when we both met for dinner after work. 

Before we knew it we were laughing about all the things that piss us off about guys and how Mr. Workaholic had this weird spray/spitting thing that would happen whenever he got excited. Turns out Miss Tweedle-Dumb does that too. I felt it - Eww! Digression continued into how to arrange a fridge with regards to sandwich making, fruit and vegetables and other miscellaneous items, not to mention a rundown of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's guide on how to wrap bread. Now I am well aware at this point in your reading you are probably wondering what the fuck I am on about and how my best-friend and I have very odd conversation but I'm sorry guys I can't be pillow fights and making out all the time!

Leaving Miss Tweedle-Dumb's last night was fun but after talking of our Reading Festival trip in summer I decided to listen to some Arctic Monkeys who have recently been headlined for the weekend. If you haven't heard them then where have you been the past decade, grab their album 'AM' and tick it on repeat. Mind you that's exactly what I have been doing since yesterday evening and all I can think about when hearing the melodies in my ears is how much I want to have Mr. Minigolf on my couch, straddled and begging for me to push it a little further. I cant stop it. Seriously I was on my way to work this morning and I couldn't stop thinking about it a massive smile cracking my face in half thinking about all the things we could do as sounds of guitars and other instruments swooned through the lustful air. Even now my mind is racing with bad thoughts. Hmm ... 

And as the new week begins I wonder what it has in store for me and all I encompass. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to keep life interesting so maybe you'll hear some of them next week?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx