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

Heyy Heyy, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Last Year of my Twenties ...

Evening, 

Strolling into the office, I was feeling excited I had less than a few hours left before a weekend of fun and birthtday activities. Friday was my 29th year on the planet, gracing you all with my precence (haha) and I was certain to make the damned most of it, COVID or not! And so after a dental appointment Thursday afternoon I poured myself a nice big glass ofof the good stuff and enjoyed a night of telly, all in the knowledge I would be jam-packed with people to see and places to go come tomorrow. 

Friday morning came soon enough though and just like the good old days I dropped Mr Warehouse to work, but not before a cheeky McDonald's Breakfast. The start to the day of kings, or at least this one. Double sausage and egg McMuffin meal with a large toffee-nut latte and side of hash brown. Winning! Once back at home I settled in for the morning as the sun continued to rise, watching crappy daytime TV and snoozing with the pups, all before heading out for a spot of what I hoped would be lucrative Halloween shopping however proved fruitless. But the best was yet to come as arriving back home I had a treat in store, well for my oven at least. 

Ever since moving in (nearly two-years ago now) Mr Warehouse and I have been meaning to clean the oven. I know, I know. It is a horrible dirty little secret but telling you all I am sure I am not the only one who has had every intention of sitting there on the kitchen floor of a weekend afternoon, desperatly trying to work out how the oven door comes off whilst the wire racks and trays sit on the counter-top fizzing in bicarb and vinegar. Alas, my future husband and I had all the best ideas when purchasing Oven Pride over 18-months-ago, but there is always something (anything) better to do of a weekend than spent scrubbing on all fours trying not to get bummed into the cooker Hansel and Gretel style by lover boy over there. And so I bought a service so that they would come along, clean and srub all my dirtiness away and leave it gleaming so I can (now) stay n top of it so I dont have the embarressment of calling someone out again and having to lie (unconvincingly) through my teeth that it was only cleaned six-months ago. 

Following the collection of Mr Warehouse we headed home for a bit until it was time to leave for some QT with Miss Tweedle-Dee. Although on arrival her new gaff was packed with her Mom, Dad and not-so-little brother as well as Miss JoHo (now not a Jehovahs Witness). Lots of alcohol followed with some good laughs and giggles. But turning 29, the last few days on the run-up had been reflective. This will be the first year without my Scottish Grandmother and her force of nature was certainly missing from my life, something I have been feeling more now that I ever did before. I dont know, maybe it is the fact that unlike when my Granddad passed away, I still continue to get birthday and Christmas cards from my Nanny Pumpkin, they just dont have the inclusion of "and Granddad" at the end. But this year, it will just be nothing. No "lots of love and hugs and god bless". No funny tongue in cheek card. No money wrapped up carefully in tinfoil. Nothing. And since Scottish Granda' passed long before I knew of grandparents and the impact they have on a growing human, this is the end of an era. 

Saturday my head was fuzzy to say the least, but continuing with the fun (and after doing menial tasks like lumping our old triple wardrobe about the place for someone who came to buy it) Mr Warehouse and I headed off to Bedford Town Centre for something I had wanted to do for ages ... Bottomless Brunch. As the Slug and Lettuce website confirms, "brunch is one of the most important meals of the day" and paired with bottomless bubbles the experience all the more better. Lasting two hours, on arrival Mr Warehouse and I joined our old work colleagues Miss Hackney & Miss Sugarcoat dined from a simple brunch menu choosing Eggs Benedict of course, however the less than attentive team were slow and it wasn't lng before we were ordering two-at-a-time-mimosa's. 

But I couldnt get so shit-faced, I had to go dinner with my Dad and his wife, now of over a year would you believe it? A family run countryside English Inn, The Carrington Arms is situated in the picturesque village of Moulsoe, about a ten-minute journey by car from our home in Cranfield. I had been itching to visit the award winning restaurant for a while now but it was always fully booked during the whole "Eat Out to Help Out" thing in August and after mentioning it in passing my Dad had said he would book a table for my birthday. 

Ariving early I made Mr Warehouse take some pictures of me in my denim jumpsuit finery amoungst the Insta-worthy grounds, all before meeting our dinner guests and walking through into the bar, adorned with a huge selection of gin bottles, towering up the walls as well as draught beers, lagers, real ales and an extensive, handpicked wine list. Sitting down we chatted about my Dad and wife's recent holiday to Northern England including Durham and York, somewhere me and Mr Warehouse would love to travel to again. 

Starting with a Mango and Passionfruit gin I followed it with my favorite starter - Deli Carpaccio of Seared Bedfordshire Beef Fillet, Charred Cucumber, Filo Brick Pastry, Smoked Mustard Mayonnaise, Dill, Pink Pepper & Shaved Pecorino. Following that, my main had to continue the same caliber and since the restaraunt served locally raised Bedfordshire Beef (sold by the gram I might add) I just had to try some, although I was disappointed to discover that in "normal times" pre-Corona you could ahve gone and selected your own steak and watched it being cut and cooked on our charcoal grill. Washed down with plenty of good wine I was far too full from brunch and bubbles plus dinner to even entertain a dessert and so I have just booked to return soon and certainly so for our traditional Christmas eve meal out. 

A few drinks with some of Mr Warehouse's family to see one of the younger ones off to Uni in Liverpool ensued followed by our heads hitting the pillows and falling fast asleep. Most Sunday's are now spent lazing in bed watching Youtube before Mr Warehouse heads out to watch his (or really should be our) Nephew play football and this weekend was no different, I found myself chilling around the house and watching yet more documentaries on Dennis Neilson (self-consuming myself since the incredibly spooky and true-to-likeness docuseries on ITV called "Des" played by David Tennant - Uhh just fascinating you must watch it if you havent already), before heading over to see Brother and Sister-in-law, kids and the most adorable little puppy called Lola ever! 

Wrapping up the weekend in style, Mr Warehouse and I headed to French Affaire, a French inspired restaurant buried in the heart of quaint Stony Stratford near Milton Keynes. Meeting my Scottish side of the family it was nice to finally come full-circle and feel a little better about having my first birthday without my Scotch Nanna. Stepping into the beautiful restaurant I was swept away by the exquisite and elegant interior, including sparkling chandelier, living moss wall and plush furnishings, not to mention a sunny terrace area complete with flowers in full bloom. And unlike The Blossom Room in Milton Keynes Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tried during August's "Eat Out to Help Out" thing, French Affaire's clean & simple cooking was full of flavour and you could tell that many of the ingredients were from local suppliers. Opting for something healthy (probably the first drink I had since Thursday that wasn't alcoholic) I chose a smoothie of blended carrot, goji berries, banana, mango and some other shit to add up to my five-a-day. Our late lunch was compromised of smashed avacado on Sourdough toast with poached eggs and chilli followed by the best Crepe I think I have had outside of France itself - Baileys, Oreo crumbles and White Chocolate sauce. Uh heavenly!

And so the rollercoaster continues into my finaly year of my twenties as some weeks I am good and others, like last week, I just want to tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything, however unlike last week where I thought I had to kiss goodbye to dreamy Greek islands or lush Italian breaks; This week I am looking forward to the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Can you use the word "Dope" still at Twenty-Eight?

Heyy, 

Finally a night in for myself! Mr Warehouse dropped off at the pub and with my semi-healthy chicken salad kebab on stand-by I settled in for the night, feeding the hounds and getting comfy on the couch. It had been so long that I could barely contain my excitement when Mr Warehouse had said he was going to the pub and asked me for a lift. Gladly I dropped him off and anticipated an early-ish night. Mr Warehouse had joined Mr CWG for a night of laughs and lads banter at his old local in the next village over. But now I was home, as the night sky turned darker I had back to back Teen Mom UK, Teen Mom OG and all-new American Horror Story to catch up on. I was very much enjoying my overdue night in front of the box, well that was until I realised that a house is bigger than the old flat and after watching American Horror Story I promptly went around and locked all doors and windows, just in case you know ... 

Soon enough though I got a message. It was legible and spelt correctly so assumed that my future husband was totally fine and had not had too much sauce. However, as I pulled up outside the pub I was greeted by a rather sobered-up Mr CWG, however, Mr Warehouse, my darling sweet boy was absolutely sozzled. Bidding farewell and with promises of seeing each other within a few hours for my birthday party/get-together the following day, I proceeded to take Mr Warehouse home for a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol with a side order of bucket-by-the-bed. 

Pulling away I was met with screams as my burly bae decided that we were going to hit every car that was coming in the opposite direction. This was not the case and as I poodled down the at speed limit of thirty miles an hour, I was told that I was going "far too fast" and to "slow the fuck down". Nearly wetting myself with laughter I must admit I was barely able to keep my eyes open and on the road for how funny this all was. That was until, baring in mind that it was past midnight, I was overtaken by a motorcycle. 
"OOOH HARRY YOUR A WEEEZAAARD!" I heard Mr Warehouse exclaim in the actual worst Scottish accent I have ever heard. Unable to contain the laughter, it only egged him on as he carried on shouting and yelling that "yeeer a weeezaaard Harry! A weezard!" 

Squealing round every bend, twist and turn along the country roads, we finally arrived home, although not before me as the glorified taxi driver was groped and had to tell my gorgeous man off for fiddling with the radio and insisting that he played Heart FM, probably one of the worst things to listen to in the dead of night. Heading indoors we were greeted by the puppies and Mr Warehouse made a dash for the fridge, berating me that I had serviced myself in terms of getting a kebab and yet he was practically starving and wasting away! Hardly. 

Slamming a chicken burger into the microwave and heading to the toilet I thought that the special bucket (originally bought I think as we really tried with the whole adulting thing and planned to use it for washing up or cleaning however was now only reserved for really special nights out whereby someone has gone in a little too hard). Heading upstairs it was only a matter of moments before I was being preached too about the warnings of alcohol abuse and how Mr Warehouse "will never drink again", shortly followed by some long stints hanging out in our bathroom, blowing it from both ends the messy fuck. Least he had the special bowl with him for company as after asking if he was OK all alone in there I soon drifted off to sleep.  

The following morning I was yet again awoken to Frankenstein's borderline nauseating whining and crying and bitching! Oh ma gaad! When will this dog learn I will come down, eventually. I just wanted a fucking lay-in! Attending to him at a stark 6am, only a matter of hours after I fell asleep, leaving my betrothed on the bog with his head in a bucket of his own vomit. The house was far from party-ready and I was seriously reconsidering a cancellation, maybe faking illness or something just so I could lounge about all day in my PJ's and eat cake and binge on American Horror Story, this time in the daylight so the monsters don't seem so real. Returning Frankenstein to his cage and heading back to bed myself I knew it wouldn't be long before his whimpers and cries awake me once more. 

As morning broke, I greeted a very sore-headed bear downstairs and continued the war effort in order to get the place poppin' ready for some drinking and some partying. However, as 4pm rolled around, the start of the party, I realised by the number of cancellations that kept flooding through that there would only be a very select few that would actually turn up. I did, however, polish off nearly a whole bottle of Gin and shared a bottle (OK maybe shared was a strong word as it was barely half a glass) of prosecco with my Auntie, and many, many a Slimming World Syn in the sausage rolls and corn dogs - a feeble homage to my American bezzie Mrs Tweedle-Dumb who couldn't be here to share in this day a part of it!

The day itself went well and I enjoyed the company of all those bitches that could be arsed to turn up. I was spoilt too with pressies of wine and gin and Baileys Strawberries and Cream. From Miss Tweedle-Dee I received a stunning Morphe make-up Palette, along with a bottle of my fave perfume (Clean Rain if anyone is asking for Xmas!) and a super unique horror-film-inspired charm bracelet complete with Freddie, Jason and Chuckie encased in silver, and that was just to name a few. My lovely step-parents (Miss Tweedle-Dee's Mom and Dad) bought me a Pink Gin gift set, a Bathbomb advent calender and set of make-up brushes. Mr Warehouse spoilt me and showered me (literally) or maybe should I say bathed me in about ten different bath bombs, all from my fave store - LUSH, along with some HomeSense Schpoopy candles smelling like pumpkin shit and other fucking dope autumn smells (I'm twenty-eight can I use "dope" now?) and another stunning make-up palette, this time "Take me back to brazil" by BeautyBay. I was certainly spoilt and now am looking forward to counting down the last few days until I can finally say ... It's a year 'til my wedding day!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

And So The Healing Begins

Heyy, 

So last Tuesday was my birthday and whilst I did not mention this in last week's blog post, I thought that I would mention it now! Happy Birthday to me! It is always awkward when you have a birthday in the middle of the week. Everyone is working or have other commitments and dinner out was an expensive luxury to do twice. Instead I settled for my Birthday Eve when Mr. Warehouse and Miss Tweedle-Dee joined me to indulge in my favourite thing eating out and sushi. And although my best friend and boyfriend were not fully enjoying themselves - Miss Tweedle-Dee felt poorly and Mr. Warehouse was still unsure on the concept of raw fish - But I certainly wasn't and gorged on many dishes of salmon and sticky rice. 

Afterwards Mr. Warehouse, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I took an after dinner stroll and I was giving my birthday present from my bestie. Opening the different envelope they all contained information about a wonderful idea and something that was just otherworldly. With the run-up to Halloween coming quickly I am so excited for Autumn and Spookies to come, so with all of this in mind Miss Tweedle-Dee paid for us to both encounter the paranormal inside one of Britain's Most Haunted prisons - HMP Gloucester. 

The website states that HMP Gloucester has a long and chilling history with many of the executed criminals remain buried in the grounds of the prison. Some of the most infamous serial killers have been incarcerated within the walls of Gloucester Prison. The prison formally closed on 31 March 2013 but the suffering and torment is deeply etched within the fabric of this foreboding location. Originally built as the County Gaol in 1700s at a cost of £34,000 with a capacity of 350 prisoners each in separate cells, there were also separate cells for debtors of both sexes.Between 1792 and 1864 at least 102 executions took place using the considered more humane 'New Drop' style gallows with many of the executed being buried in unmarked graves where they still remain today. Join the team as we spend the night at the terrifying HMP Gloucester with the tormented souls that remain.

Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will start our overnight ghost hunt at HMP Gloucester in the afternoon of Saturday 20th October 2018 when my Besitie and I will drive, in her new car, down to Gloucestershire and check into the hotel to try and get some rest. Our experience will start at 9pm that night and will be sure to really test our nerve. An experience that we are sure will not forget and with suffering torment and death deeply etched into the very fabric of this imposing prison we may meet more than just the guide. Gloucester Prison was home to the notorious serial killer Fred West so during the night we might be in contact with him and all those who remain as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I join in carrying out seances, vigils and experiments in the most active areas of the imposing location. At 3am all is well as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will return to the hotel, hopefully not possessed or contaminated by demonic spirits to sleep and the following day maybe some nice relaxing shopping ... Or maybe a trip to Church?!

One present that I did not expect to receive was an email in my inbox from a charitable organisation in the heart of Bedford called the Amicus Trust. In the email they detailed about how I had reached out to someone that could help me with my mental state and said that they were able to give me counselling sessions in order to work through my problems as quickly as possible so that life can get back on track. I am still on my medication but I  now feel quite pressured from loved ones to get things sorted and frankly it is becoming a little too much to bear. I know that people mean well and that in reality I am of the knowledge that I need to sort out these issues but first and foremost, I need to sort myself out.Trust me when I say that it is simply a long story that I may share with you another time.

Leaving the house with plenty of time on Friday morning just in case parking was a bitch, I was anxious as I always am at my first meeting with my current therapist. I found a parking space straight away and with that proceeded to scroll through my social media pages whilst I waited for an appropriate time when I would be able to walk through the doors without being too early. Locking my car and walking past many of the unscrupulous faces I saw on that Friday morning I realised that the the exact location of my therapy Sessions were actually in the heart of Bedford and area which is renowned for its poor reputation and well known for being a bad side of town. But with this in mind I thought that there would be no better place to have a charity or organisation such as the Amicus Trust.

Meeting the gentleman that I had been emailing for the last fortnight or so was interesting to say the least. He was extremely friendly and easy to get to know. Immediately I was relaxed and at ease with his company He offered me a cup of coffee which was nice as it was the morning and I have not eaten yet but it also helped in breaking the ice in what would otherwise be a rather emotionally fuelled situation. Sitting down at a large wooden table, the room was dimly lit and despite the large window next to the table being hidden by the blinds I could still hear the busy street outside. My Therapist was an larger framed gentleman maybe in his late fifties with long salt and pepper curly hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a dusky purple corduroy shirt straight out of the 70s or 80s and with the skin tags littering his eyes and wrinkly face I knew that I can trust him. 

And so we began unravelling my tale. It is a complex and complicated one and something in which we only got to the bottom of this evening, however after the last two sessions I can safely say that things can be fixed and everything can be resolved one way or another. There are certainly a lot of issues that we need to work through and get to the bottom of but he assures me that it can all be mended. Its funny, walking out of my therapy session tonight has made me feel more positive and hopeful than I think I have felt in the last few months about my mental health and I am sure that I will work through it to get back to me again. It will be long and hard and difficult, but I'm ready!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Denying The Inevitable

Hello, 

As the evening set in and the night took over the sky and shrouded us in darkness I knew it would soon be time. Last weekend when Mrs Tweedle-Dumb's parents threw a goodbye BBQ in her honor I woke up that morning not wanting to get out of bed and only wanting to curl up under my duvet, pretending as I did on the morning of my grandfather's funeral that this day did not exist. Maybe if I fell back to sleep and pretended that this all wasn't happening today then maybe I could keep the reality at bay. Ahh denial is a wonderful thing. In Great British style the bank holiday weekend was a bit of a washout, blowing away the gazebos and generally wreaking havoc on the garden. Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and I had decided that it would be best if we spent some more quality time together just the three of us and so following a very much enjoyed sushi date together on bank holiday Monday Miss Tweedle-Dee and I endured our weeks at work and looked forward to getting up early and seeing Mrs Tweedle-Dumb for what would genuinely be the very last time. 

Arriving at a slightly later time than we had planned, me and my Tweedles sat on the front porch of Mr Tweedle-Dumb's parents home in the posh Suburbs of Basingstoke, smoking menthols and sipping on Starbucks in the sunshine. I couldn't think of any better way to start a Sunday, even if it was nearly midday. Thoughts soon turned to what we would be doing in our final few hours together, and it just so happened that we were doing the usual - Shopping excursion to the Anbill (otherwise known locally as the Festival Place Shopping Centre) was our normal go to when visiting our friend in Basingstoke and why should this time be any different. We all made jokes about the fact we could not visit Mrs Tweedle-Dumb in Basingstoke without having a trip to the Anbill. Truth be told I think we all really enjoyed going back to the roots of our friendship and simply shopping till we find a restaurant to drop into. And what made this day better was the fact that in their haste to emigrate, Mr & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and maybe forgotten a little bit that my birthday was coming up soon, and so today was also when I would get to pick out my birthday present. 

Giddy with excitement at all the possibilities that could be we headed to the Anbill - Shopping, laughing and chatting all the way only stopping stopping for the odd cigarette and eventually ending up outside Wagamama, feasting on steamed buns and gyoza! It was starting to get dusky and I realised that time was slowly passing off by. Sat on a bench, denying the inevitable, I looked at the bestest friends I think I could have ever wished for. The last few months have been difficult to say the least, and yet, as normal, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb have been through it all with me. They always make me feel better, giggling about our inside jokes no one else got, eating fat and naughty food and indulging in the worst kind of sinful behaviour! Unlike all the other times we kidded ourselves that this would be the last time - This really would be the last time! 

In less than a few days Mrs Tweedle-Dumb would be jetting off to start the adventure of a lifetime with her new husband, settling down on the Sunshine Coast. I still feel ashamed and guilty for selfishly thinking that I wish it was me packing my bags and fucking off, but also partly because I would not have stuck around to see who was left behind or what they were feeling - I would have been long gone. Truth be told, I want her to do the same. Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will be OK back here because we have each other and the best times ever together as a threesome can still continue over Skype or FaceTime. 

Saying goodbye for the last time was probably the most difficult things that I have done in quite some time. I know that Mr & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb will have an amazing time and make an incredible life for themselves and if, for whatever reason, nothing goes to plan and it all doesn't work out Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will be there to catch our best friend, pick her up and dust her off. Hugging it out and seeing your best friends cry their heart out was the worst thing in the entire universe because there is nothing that you or anyone else can do to make it better. Driving away, tears filled my eyes and as one of the first ever albums we obsessed over as a trio started to play through the stereo. And all the way home we played the album "Songs About Jane" by Maroon 5, belting out the hits from our youth and letting the emotions, happy, sad, everything wash over us as we tanked it down the M25. 

Honestly that album. I promise you, if you ever do anything, go and listen to that Album - It'll change your life! Hands down categorically the best album that is for any type of emotion! Break-up? Track 4: She Will Be Loved. Love Dilemma? Track 2: This Love. Guilty? Track 5: Tangled. Falling in Love? Track 8: Sunday Morning. Best friend emigrating? Track 12: Sweetest Goodbye (well if it wasn't about sexing after a break-up) 

I mean yeah sure we are a bit weird in our own special way and mine, Miss Tweedle-Dee & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb's humour is completely our own, but somehow we just get each other. For the simple fact that we could easily sit in silence, not saying a single thing to one another and yet still feel at peace and without judgement. Our years of being each others go-to for any advice, problem, issue or dilemma and sometimes not even having to utter a single word to one another just a look to crack out a smile or even better a laugh. All of it made that moment, the moment that we said goodbye one last time all the more harder to bear. And so ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Don't Count Days, Make Days Count!

Hello, 

Following my slip up last week forgetting to take my happy pills, I am pleased to say that after reinstating my routine of popping my meds every morning life this last week has felt a little brighter. Previously I had tried to not give in to the need for medication in order to treat my depression but the truth is that I still need them, even if I have been feeling a little better. After speaking with the doctor last week however, she confirmed that it would not be wise to stop medication and advised that in most circumstances it take a minimum of six-months to kick in but can take much longer. The doctor had advised to continue also with counselling sessions and therapy as it had temporarily been put on hold as I had finished my previous sessions and now awaiting a appointment where I can be seen through the NHS however after being told it can be anywhere between three months up to eighteen months I am starting to consider if I need to go Privately to seek help. 

With the house slowly progressing and the solicitors final searches now complete we are just awaiting the surveyor from the Mortgage company to confirm his findings and hand over our damned Mortgage Offer. I am still feeling positive but I am frustrated with not hitting our move in date of beginning of August. There is no move date as yet but following the survey to make sure that the house is worth the amount of money we are borrowing against it happening last week, hopefully we should hear back in the next couple of days with a date for our completion and exchange. I am almost certain after talking to different people at work and through other groups of friends that the process will speed along. 

After months of being in a bit of a whirlwind of emotions and life events, I am hoping that it is coming to an end, although I know deep down I am just teetering on the edge of another drop. I feel, more so at the moment, that whilst I have crossed many a Ravine in the last few months emotionally, I am on the knife edge of what could potentially be another fall and just a small gust is all it would take to tip me over the edge. That scares me. With Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dee's big move to America approaching fast, I am ever more doubtful that Mr. Warehouse and I will be in our new home by the time they leave. Whilst I am looking forward to sending my best friend off to a whole new world and life in sunny L.A, I just sometimes feel sad about it all. 

I think it finally hit me (yet again) this weekend whilst celebrating Mr Warehouse's birthday on Saturday when we spent it in Southend-on-Sea together with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb living our best lives in the arcades, indulging in a good-old British favourite, fish and chips by the seafront and watching the annual charity Parade and Carnival. Taking photos dancing and laughing along together I realised that this would probably be the last time we had together. In less than a few weeks I would be loosing an incredible friendship with Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and whilst I have some amazing people around me, nothing will ever replace my first ever best friend. I feel ashamed and guilty of my selfish thoughts when I think about Mrs Tweedle-Dumb moving away with her new hubby, partly because I would not have given a flying fuck about who was left behind or what they were feeling - I would have been long gone. And I want her to do the same because Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will be OK back here because we know that despite how hard it will be, our friendship will be OK. 

As much as it makes me feel absolutely devastated and heartbroken to think of my life here in England without her, I need to remember that it is not all bad. I will miss Mrs Tweedle-Dumb however I know the fun that we will all have trying to successfully achieve a (three-way) Skype session or FaceTime . Think of all the fun Miss Tweedle- Dumb and I will have sending parcels to remind Mrs Tweedle-Dumb of home including goodies such as tea and HobNobs. And to think of the absolute excitement in receiving a parcel all the way from Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and her all American home, filled with exotic candy and chocolate, not to mention all of the goods that are way too expensive in the UK! Reasonably price UGGs and other designer goods? Yes please! I'm having palpitations just thinking about all of the spooky decorations and goods she could send me from the home of Halloween! Atop of that the incredible holibobs and excuses to fly out to be reunited. All of this I need to keep in mind when I think about how sad I will be when she has left. I am sure that I will be Alright as long as I carry a parachute when I brave to walk along the edge ...  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Being a Baby About It

Hello!

So after what it would seem as weeks worth of Halloween or fancy dress parties, this weekend saw Mr Warehouse and myself meeting up with some familiar faces from our old workplace to celebrate in true 90's style with an old work colleagues 40th birthday party. You would have thought that I had ran out of ideas to dress up as and I will be honest with you that by Saturday afternoon I still did not have a clue what I or Mr. Warehouse were going as. 

For months I had been planning some ideas in my head something simple that would be easy to pull off. Maybe  a Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake double denim combo? Or perhaps a Posh and Becks PVC leather catsuit look? Obviously Mr Warehouse and I had to be "Twinning" with whatever we wore. But what could be more 90's than pops power couples? Well it got me thinking. TV and film are always great starting points when looking for fancy dress ideas. So hitting up Google I decided to look into some of my favourite TV shows growing up. 

One of the classics that I looked into was The Rugrats! With Angelica speaking to me in a way that no other cartoon character had before with her bossy attitude and need for constant attention I thought that she would be perfect! But that would certainly take a lot of effort and not being blonde at the present moment would mean I would have to buy another word for probably the fourth week in a row. Maybe some of the other characters would be a better choice?! Then like out of nowhere it struck me! Why not go as Phil and Lil from The Rugrats. It was so simple! And that was it! With the idea firmly planted inside my head I headed to town in Vivienne to purchase the necessary costume components. Hitting up Primark first I found all the pieces I needed in the men's section with extra large pink t-shirts and even larger green vests. Hopping from the town centre over to another retail park where I visited Hobbycraft in order to pick up some yellow, pink and white felt. 

At home I made headway with only a short time before we had to leave the house again for some fireworks with Mr warehouses brother and his family. Grabbing my hot glue gun I got to work sticking down the yellow duck and tissues in the pockets of the outfits, adding in some pink bows for details on my outfit. Completing the look by fitting into some skin coloured leggings and curly hair I thought that we certainly looked the part even if Mr Warehouse had never seen a single episode of the nearly two-hundred that were made of The Rugrats that's found more than a decade. 

After an eventful evening out watching some local fireworks with Mr Warehouses family we headed over to the party venue. I was excited to see some of my old work colleagues and was even more excited about the potential of having a couple of drinks whilst having a boogie on the dance floor. Unfortunately though it would appear that after arriving Mr Warehouse became very tired and weary. I could empathize as to why as Mr Warehouse had been working most of the day. I was almost certain looking at him there in the light of the disco set that there were many other places he would have preferred to being rather than at a party dressed as a toddler and with dance music banging through his ears. I on the other hand was well up for a party and was thoroughly looking forward to a good drink. But looking around I noticed only one or two of my old work colleagues had made it. I missed them all terribly. 

As I got talking to my old supervisor I soon realized that my career move had been for the better. As much as I loved looking back on my time with my old company through Rose tinted glasses, it was certainly not all lightness and sweet. Whilst I had grown to adore my job as well as the people surrounding me in it, the sales peoples and engineers especially, as well as other office members, I think I knew deep down that it was not going to last much longer. In the months leading up to me leaving I had it been becoming increasingly dissatisfied with my working career and the fact that I felt like I was still being treated as the twenty-two-year-old girl that walked through the doors several years earlier was patronizing to say the least. The constant belittling and making me out to look as though I didn't know what I was doing, when in actual fact I knew exactly how to run the ship tighter and fairer than anyone was taking its toll. Enough was enough. 

I hated the fact that I left, but I have to remember that this was a decision on took not only for me but also for my future self and family. Sounds ridiculous I know but I took the decision to move jobs because of the luxuries we would have as a little family with just me, the Dog and the Bae. Since my decision last year almost to the day, Mr Warehouse and I have indulged in a holiday (or a few) both with and without the dog and have many more fun things planned for the future. I don't think that I would have ever been able to afford to have Vivienne on the wages I was getting back there. But money isn't everything and whilst I have the progression and option to go further with the company I work for now, something I would have never got if I stayed where I was, I have lost contact I feel with some amazing people. 

I wish that my old work life could have continued in the way that it had started with partying into the early hours most weekends, dating random fuck-boys and living life to the fullest, it was time to grow up. Whilst they were some of the most memorable and happiest moments of my life, every chapter must come to an end for a new one to begin. 

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx