Beautiful Nightmare

Evening Guys,
   
On closing my eyes I have somehow been transported to a district that I have never been to before. Down a single country Lane surrounded by trees and bushes and on the opposite side of the road to where I was stood I could see the rolling countryside and disappearing sun. Mr. Warehouse appeared soon after and we entered the Cottage-Barn type venue to have a look around. Looking around however I couldn't help but get the feeling that we were either being watched or preyed upon. As my fiance and I wandered around the dark wood stained walls and buildings, I felt myself constantly looking over my shoulder. It wasn't long before I saw him. Mr. Workaholic. 

Making some sort of excuse I left Mr Warehouse to look around the remaining of the buildings and out houses, following Mr Workaholic into a quieter area of the estate I asked him rather frantically what an earth he thought he was doing here. 
"I needed to see you" He muttered, hushed so as not to be discovered. 
"I am a engaged woman now and you have no right turn up here - What were you thinking?" I demanded, terrified about Mr Warehouse made come along and think that something was going on when it was not. As Mr. Workaholic took me further away from my husband to be, my Ex and I snuck around the lush gardens, fountains and water features of the grounds. Mr Workaholic continued his soliloquy saying that he was unable to let me go ahead with the wedding. 
"This should have been somewhere that we would have been at time at the knot, not you and someone else. I cant let you go through with this - Please lets try again?" Mr Workaholic cooed. This was beginning to get dangerous as I could feel myself getting hotter as the moments passed. I continued to feel as though I was cheating on Mr Warehouse even though I had done nothing wrong. Just being in the same company and presence as Mr Workaholic was just as potent as before and as time went on talking about how we used to be I struggled to keep my cool. 

And as I walked closely with Mr Workaholic through the dark Forest like environment I wondered why. Why now huh?! Why would he choose this moment or this time in my life when I am happy and settled, ready to start a new beginning with someone to come back into my life and want to start again. It was Mr Workaholic that ended it all between us! Now don't get me wrong it wasn't a relationship that ended badly in the sense that there was infidelity or anything, just that Mr. Workaholic felt there was more out there than me and he wanted to find it all out. As we stopped walking amongst some trees, Mr. Workaholic turned to me and asked me to leave it all behind. As the raging battle inside my head continued, I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover back in the day, the best maybe - or so I thought at the time. But I have to remember that Mr. Workaholic was also the same person that left me screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving me in the home you used to share with a shattered life and a broken heart. I felt so stupid. Why should I be getting emotionally involved in something that had ended over six years ago? My memoirs started to flood back and were a stark and brutally honest reminder of how things genuinely used to be - Play fights that got out of hand, annoying each other and Mr. Workaholic putting me down or making horrid comments about me - Something Mr Warehouse would never do. But there were also laughs and giggles and happiness. 

"I am an engaged woman and I'm happily in a relationship where I mean something to someone and I to them. I cant just throw it all away like you did." I said, appalled at the notion I had been wanting for so long all them years ago. Mr. Workaholic decided to call it off in late Spring, nearly seven years ago and I suppose I never really got over it totally but it was those darker thoughts and feelings I was desperately trying to cling on to so as to hold off the passion and lust I still felt raging up inside me. But it was too much. Reasoning and promising me that things would be different this time, Mr. Workaholic leaned in closer and we passionately kissed. Shocked, horrified and stunned I backed away and surprised myself by saying "OK"

I needed to let my fiance know that the wedding was off and the engagement was over. Finding my way back to the dark wood stained barn I found Mr Warehouse wondering where I was standing around and waiting for me. I felt awful as I left Mr Workaholic in the shadows, but not nearly as awful as I would feel having to go through with what I was about to do. An emotionally charged goodbye ensued with me explaining it that it was simply not Mr Warehouse that was to blame and that this was something that I had selfishly wanted for some time. 
"I love you" I said as I left, saying goodbye to the same distraught and heartbroken face that I knew only too well. 

Returning to Mr Workaholic I wondered if I have done the right thing by going back to him. It had not worked once before and would give good reason to it not working again second time around. Nevertheless I pushed all of this to the back of my mind as I left Mr Warehouse to gather his things to leave. Hours seemed to woosh past in a rush of excitement and giddiness. Yet I felt like there was something ever so foreboding. Something was not right. Then suddenly I knew. Standing with bags packed and ready to go in Mr Workaholic's girlie white hatchback I knew I couldn't do this. Running all the way back to the almost black, wood-stained barn I found Mr Warehouse packing his bags and ready to leave, tail well and truly between his legs. And like in some kind of Hollywood movie I ran and embraced Mr. Warehouse as hard as I could never to let go again. Kissing and holding each other I began apologising and telling Mr. Warehouse that it will never happen again that he was the only one; The one and only for me. 

It was not long after this that I suppose I awoke from it all. In the knowledge that it was just a weird dream, almost nightmarish in its approach that I was unable to wake from. In my half-sleep-slumber I was forced to live up to the reality of my subconscious thoughts. Although in reality it was a Monday morning and Mr Warehouse was in no mood to be hearing of my fantastical dreams, no matter how scarily thought provoking or poignant. I suppose I will save that for another day ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Difficult Roads Often Lead To Beautiful Destinations

Suup, 

I never thought that I would have festival blues like I did at Reading Festival back in 2014, oh boy do I have a big come down from the glitter and frolics of a festival atmosphere. Truth be told I didn't think that I would have enjoyed myself or looked forward to the Bedford River Festival as much as I did. Maybe it was the drib's and drabs of family and friends throughout the weekends festivities that made it as good as it was, or maybe it was just simply down to the fact that I felt much better than I have done in the last few months. I suppose that the reality is that next time the Bedford River Festival comes around we will be living in our new home and who knows what life might be like then. although I am sure that there will still be a place for some glitter and denim shorts to enjoy the drumming music, incredible smelling food and host of activities and things to do and see. 

With the last few months being a bit of a whirlwind in terms of emotions and life events, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I would book a few days off at the end of the month after payday in order to have a little bit of me time for rest and recuperation. Suggested by several of my friends including Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat who I have met up with a few times over the last couple of weeks, I think a few days to relax and take time for myself will be beneficial and can only do me some good. I have a few things planned such as some nice lye-in's and watching telly. On Wednesday I will be getting my hair done which maybe doesn't seem like such a big deal but for me a relaxing afternoon in the hairdressers chair is just what I need. Maybe afterwards I might take a trip over to one of the retail outlets a few miles out of town in order for some retail therapy and a treat or two.

Thursday's plans will consist of going to my usual counselling sessions and therapy, however this week will be the first of the NHS Treatments. In the afternoon I also have a doctor's appointment in order to discuss my ongoing medication and going forward with my diagnosis. Whilst the medicine I am on has finally stopped making me feel queasy and nauseous, I haven't stopped taking them as I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, regardless of how I feel much better and more back to normal. I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will get better it will just maybe take a little bit longer. 

Friday is what I am really looking forward to as I will be accompanying Mr Warehouse to a spa in London. Courtesy in part to Nanny Pumpkin's Christmas present to Mr Warehouse and I we will be enjoying a gorgeous fruit platter as well as some relaxing treatments. I think just simply having some time just for us will be nice as I think life just takes over and before you know it it has been weeks since you have spent time with each other. 

I know after spending Sunday afternoon in the sunshine with two of my favourite people, Nanny Pumpkin and Mr Warehouse, I realise the heartbreaking reality that whilst my Grandma is doing her own thing and thoroughly enjoying life skipping off here, there and everywhere, I know in reality by the amount of times my grandfather was mentioned that she does miss him. Listening to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat their own grandparents and how their lives have been affected since one of them had passed away made me want to spend time, and quality time at that with Mr Warehouse whilst we have the chance to do so before mortgages and family life takes over. 

This is a happy time where we should be excited about finally getting a home of our own and looking forward to putting our own stamp on the place, although I think Mr Warehouse would agree with me when we both say that life has not been the easiest for us at the moment. It has been a poisonous melting pot of complicated issues including my mental health, Mr. Warehouse's skin condition and his own health worries all mixed together with a good helping of work issues and family problems, sprinkled with the stress of buying a house and preparing to move home. When the Devil on my shoulder tells me that it is going to be very expensive and makes me question as to whether Mr Warehouse and I can afford it, I must remember all of the other times that I thought or wondered how I would ever afford what I wanted in life. I am sure that I will look back a year from now and wonder as to what exactly I spent my money on. 

It terrifies me to think that I will have to depend on someone else both financially and in the general upkeep and running of the house in Mr Warehouse. To say that things have been tense or highly strung has been a understatement and I would say Mr Warehouse and I have argued more than we have ever in the last few months than we ever have in the last three and a half years we have been dating. But for all the snippy comments or playful bickering that happens between us I cannot fault Mr Warehouse for his support and love over the last few months, holding me up high when I was down in my lowest points and making me feel so loved and wanted it's unreal. I don't think that there is literally anything that his arms couldn't cuddle away and I know that whatever life throws at us I will be able to deal with it just as long as I have him by my side, wiping away the tears and making things better for as long as we have ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

More Missing Minutes of a Different Kind

Hello, 

So it's got to that point of the year again where I am constantly bombarded by people telling me about their holidays or their upcoming beach bargain breaks. To say that I am jealous would be a major understatement. Tenerife, Majorca, Lanzarote and Bulgaria the list goes on. I know in my heart of hearts that the four-hundred quid sat in my savings account should really be used towards our house fund, deposit or redecorating and not a holiday. Ugggh but its so hard! When everyone else is choosing which flip-flops to pack or which bikini will go with which Snapchat filter, here I am trying to work out how many stick-on tiles I can buy for under a tenner to do the kitchen and why Ronseal is so expensive. And after the last few weeks of collecting bits and pieces for the house and redecorating I was ready to start. No Weddings. No Funerals. Well, nearly ... 

Relaxing on a Friday evening, I was having one of those rare moments to myself. Mr. Warehouse had gone to visit his brother in a small village outside of Bedford after work and was staying there to play a few games of pool before coming home. I didn't think anything of the phone call I've picked up whilst putting the TV on pause. I expected some sorry reason as to why he was going to be late home or maybe even the fact that he wanted me to picking up as he had been drinking. No. None of the above. The words 'Don't Panic' are never a good phrase to start off with when you ride a motorbike and were expected home ten minutes ago. To be honest I had been awaiting this moment for a while now. I thought that I would have been much more in a panic or a bit of a flap about it all, but an odd sense of calm came over me and I just thought "Oh for goodness sake what have you done now?"

After leaving his brothers around about 7.30pm and with plenty of time to get home before it was dark, Mr Warehouse whizzed off down the road from Village to Village as he normally did and had done many a time before. Only this time was different. Coming round a bend and over a humped railway bridge, Mr. Warehouse lost control of the motorbike beneath him, skidding and crashing into a road sign. Successfully taking that out my boyfriend flew for a further twenty or thirty meters before hitting a tree. Knocked unconscious, Mr. Warehouse only came round when he heard the sound of a cars engine, a door slamming shut and a women running towards him, asking if he was OK. "No love, just thought I would have a little nap face down in a pile of stinging nettles with my bike on its side and still running" was what my gorgeous boy wanted to tell her, but Mr. Warehouse said to me that he just thanked her for her time and for stopping, but said that he would be OK in a few moments and not to call for anyone. 

Accepting by this point that he was on his feet and seemingly talking OK, the woman left the scene in a rush to wherever she was heading. About five minutes later I received the dreaded phone call. I knew that it was Mr Warehouse as soon as he spoke and this relieved me a little bit that he was clearly well enough to talk and it wasn't a police officer or paramedic. I think I would have freaked more. Calmly and as collectively as possible I continued to keep him talking asking all manner of questions about what had happened and where he was in relation to his surroundings. But being a typical man he brushed it all off, dusted himself down, got back on the bike and drove home. 

After the phone call ended I called his brother immediately asking him to whizz round the corner a couple of minutes and see if he was still there. Unfortunately he wasn't and by that time Mr Warehouse had driven off leaving a few chunks of plastic and debris in his wake. I promised to update Big-Brother Warehouse about how he was when he got in and to check if we need to go to accident and emergency. About twenty minutes later and with the sun now setting I heard a bike rolling through the quiet streets. Undressing my boyfriend and making sure that he was OK I could see that he was well within the grips of shock. Tongue was white as a ghost and he was waiting up and down the front room checking every inch of his body for scratches or bruising. 

Sitting him down I make sure to contact his family including his brothers and his mother, and all whilst I made sure he missed a good strong and sugary cup of tea. Us British eh?! Thankfully he was alright in terms of no cuts or bruising just a couple of light cat scratches from bushes and a couple of rashers from where he woke up in some stinging nettles. I was probably more concerned at the fact that he was now shaking and saying that he was cold, not to mention a large headache as well as pain in his hand, wrist and lower back. Yet again I said to him that we should probably go to A&E as he had been involved in a major bike accident not only that but he has fuzzy memory about what exactly happened and thinks he may have been knocked unconscious. Mr. Warehouse wasn't having any of it though. 

After a brief heated discussion and a talk with his mother, Mr Warehouse and I came to a compromise that we would call the 111 service setup for the NHS. After going through numerous questions and answering yes, no and explaining what had happened in general the operator had decided with her superiors that a ambulance should be sent on its way just to be sure. Ambulance arriving it couldn't have been quicker or at a more convenient time as Mr Warehouse was going into full blown shock mode, suffering from chills and hot sweats as well as feeling nauseous. But disaster was not over yet as I had to get the dog out of the way of the paramedics in order for them to do their job. As I went to go and grab Pooch's collar, she told hard and I felt harder which only meant one thing for my nail that was holding on as tightly as possible. SNAP!

Crying out in agony on the inside I tossed the dog into the bedroom and shut the door behind her cussing at her under my breath. Mary mother of God did it hurt and oh my goodness I thought that I was actually going to be pissing blood from my finger it thumped so hard. As the paramedics did their job well running tests and checking Mr warehouses Obs I was standing there feeling like a lemon and wondering whether I should inform the medical team that I myself had also had an injury - A broken nail. I didn't and after a brief conversation about how to try and stay safe on the road the wonderful medicine Angels left. I suppose that I just have to be thankful that the equipment that Mr. Warehouse was wearing did it's job and potentially saved him from otherwise more serious injuries or potentially even worse. God only knows what the outcome would have been should he have not been wearing his protective jacket, trousers and helmet. So many times across so many different continents and countries I am sure that you all will have seen that idiot on a motorbike driving down the road with nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of shorts on! It just doesn't bare thinking about what could have happened. 

And so Mr Warehouse has spent most of the weekend recovering either on the sofa or in bed. We had a look at the motorcycle itself and it seems as though most of the damage is simply plastic and could easily be replaced or repaired. I think my main concern is whether it drives OK as the alignment seems slightly off and when Mr. Warehouse drove it home he was obviously battling a shock as well as adrenaline coursing through his veins. Hopefully nothing is too expensive as I would ideally like to try and get some things done sooner rather than later in the flat. Who knows maybe it will be this weekend that we finally get round to doing some DIY! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Listen With Your Heart, You Will Understand ...

Evening everyone!

Finishing work early at midday on Friday I was rushed off my feet yet again trying to sort different bits and pieces. After the last 18-months or so of searching for a property suitable for both mine and Mr Warehouse's tight budget as well as our dog we finally came across a few properties in the last few months that were affordable and that would accept pets. The only problem that we seem to come up against was the fact that the majority of these properties were very run down or poorly kept which meant that we would have to put in a lot of work to a property that was not perfect and was not ours, something that at the end of the day we could quite easily do in the place that we have here. Albeit our flat is small in comparison to the two-bedroom house with Garden and parking I envisaged us living in at this point last year, I would say that our flat is still on the large side in terms of the front room and bedroom. In fact I am sure that I have not met anyone that is able to fit a sofa, double bed, one single wardrobe, one triple wardrobes, two chest of drawers and a desk into their bedroom. After having several meltdowns over the last few weeks about where we live as well as the safety and security of the property, not to mention what seems like a complete lack of empathy or positive activity from our landlord, I have come to realise just how selfish I have been and how lucky I am to live in such a lovely home, even if it isn't mine. 

And so with this new lease of life and new found optimism for my housing situation, Mr Warehouse and I have decided to try and attempt to do up what little flat we have. I suppose with a little bit of paint, a spruce up of the patio area and maybe even splashing out on a few bits for the house I am sure that this will tide me over at least for the meantime to be happy in where I am living whilst trying at desperately to save for a house. In fact I think I am quite proud of myself for all of the bargains I have found over the last few weeks. Not only have I been able to bag myself a leather bound double bed for just eight-quid, but I have also sourced two bedside tables for a tenner, a nice fluffy rug for under a fiver, and a wall mounted TV bracket for ten British pounds too. I am hoping that the last few little bits we need such as paint and other garden furniture will be easily found or supplied through friends, family and work colleagues as well as a few freebies found online. 

Anyway I suppose that all of that gumft is for next weekend. Whilst last weekend was spent in mourning after burying my grandfather and all of the trials and tribulations that went hand-in-hand with spending so much time with my family during a difficult time, this weekend's welcome break to a hotel in Basingstoke was certainly what I needed. The secret that I had been keeping from you for a few weeks now was the fact that my best friend was getting MARRIED! Yes I know it has probably been the biggest secret that I have been able to keep to myself for a long while. 

The bestie met her boyfriend all those many moons ago back in Uni. A few weeks after rekindling our friendship after just drifting apart, Mr. Workaholic and I visited Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb and their "posh friends" in halls and this is when I first met her future husband. Mr. Tweedle-Dumb (because they are now legally married) seemed shy and very reserved for a Uni-student, nothing like the loud, brash and ladish lass he was dating. Someone focused, head-down and knew what they wanted and where they wanted to be. As the years passed and my boyfriends came and went, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb had dropped out of Uni but continued to vist her Bae in halls and even carried on when he moved back down to his hometown of Basingstoke. Last Summer she made the move down the country to be with him and they got their own council flat. Small, it was more than most people get offered when only a couple and it was certainly plenty for them. 

After Mr Warehouse was let down for several job offers in Europe he was finally offered a promising career in Stockholm. The Tweedle-Dumb's waited for the application to emigrate for weeks, but after sometime it sadly fell through but after giving up their council flat and moving back in with the in-law's parents temporarily I think they needed a pick-me-up so took the opportunity to book a holiday to the place where dreams are made ... Disneyland Florida! Following romantic mini-breaks and trips to some of the most romantic tourist hot-spots across Europe and farther afield including Paris, Rome, Las Vegas, this engagement ring was having more holidays than I was as it accompanied Mr. Tweedle-Dumb on all trips. Each time they jetted off, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I would anxiously await the iconic picture and prepared to see if he popped the question on that trip?! But it never came. I was expecting it to never come and for them to just be that couple that are not engaged nor married but maybe have a child or two. But then it did! The Happiest Place on Earth. And that it certainly was for as my dearest friend looked up in awe of the Disney princess castle, the midnight sky alight with fireworks and stars she turned back to the love of her life only to be greeted by a one singular knee and a shiny silver ring. Shocked and stunned (as were we all guys!) I was so overwhelmed with happiness when I got a picture the following morning I cried tears of happiness. I was so unimaginably joyful for her. Whilst at first I begrudged her for going to the place where dreams come true in the first place because I wanted to go, I was thrilled at the prospect of a wedding I actually had a close relationship to the Bride! 

I have known Miss Tweedle-Dumb from such a young age when we were in lower school together and when we lived across the road directly from me. Initially she was a bitch and threw sand in my face but then the twins soon became the triplets when we adopted Miss Tweedle-Dee. Instantly we were inseparable, spending every time outside of the classroom with each other either out playing or hanging around each others houses. Of course we would argue as would any group of girls, and by hell we still do, but we always somehow made our way through. As we spent our time lazying away our weekends and summer holidays I always thought we would be friends forever and even in our old age we would still be giggling and laughing like we did when we were in school. Over the years, like every little girl and her friends we talked about our wedding days what we would do and what we would wear or how we would have our hair and make-up. We even discussed and acted out about how we would each walk down the aisle and practised using each other as father of the bride. 

This weekend, as I expected anyway, was eventful with lots of stress about beauty, getting ready and having enough time to do everything. All in all I had a nice time. The ceremony was a bit of a let down for me on their behalf as from where I was sitting the registrar seemed very uptight and conducted the ceremony in a bit of a farcical storybook parody. Snapping at Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Mr. Tweedle-Dumb for not holding hands, kissing or being close, I thought to myself if we didn't know otherwise, anyone would have thought that they were just doing this for a visa. All in all the day was lovely and touching in its own way. I think the only disappointing and sad thing was being without Mr. Warehouse by my side to spend it with us all and enjoy it, something that still perplexes me. I am just glad that she had a nice day and hope that both of my Tweedle-Dumb's have a wonderful life together. Wonder whose next then ... 

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

This is not a goodbye but a mere see you soon ...

Afternoon one and all, 

Normally when I take half day I usually feel very stressed and under a huge amount of pressure to get everything finished and Thursday as lunchtime approached I did not feel like this. In a weird way I felt a odd sense of calm wash over me. I knew that I would be rushed off my feet in the few hours before I relaxed into the salon chair to have my hair done before meeting my family for dinner and reminiscing about some of the the times we had with Grandad and with each other. 

Unfortunately for me this would not be the case. Sweating in the sweltering heat of my Orange Vivienne that in ASDA car park, Mr. Warehouse and I called my Nanny Pumpkin to find out what time she was due to be at the restaurant this evening. After ringing through a few times she finally answered flustered and in a bit of a flap. On enquiring what was wrong I was told that after my Uncle and Auntie had landed from Ireland they had going to visit my grandfather in the funeral parlour at Nevilles. Following this harsh reality my Uncle hit the bottle. In all honesty I am still pretty impressed that he was able to do a whole bottle of brandy in the space of about fifteen-minutes. 

in a way it is quite easy for myself and the rest of the family to maybe forget just how how hard that kick from reality must have been. Both my Auntie and my Uncle live abroad and as a result there is an almost inability to connect with what is happening back home sometimes I think that some members of my family would be worth noting that whilst others have had time to process the news, others have not. Whilst I acknowledge that Granddad's death was certainly not out of the blue or something quick, the luxury almost of being away from constant conversation or updates about his progress or not at the case may be almost lends itself to the fact that they were sheltered almost from the reality until they landed on Thursday Afternoon. 

And so it was with a heavy heart that I gave up my mojito in a nice restaurant and instead opted for a healthy salad whilst everybody else in on Indian or Chinese takeaway. But I missed out on all the drama when I went to collect the food with my other uncle and Mr Warehouse. So the story goes that my father turned up and when he confronted my uncle in the kitchen of my Nanny Pumpkins house it all went to pot and my family started a slanging match. Now don't get me wrong, all families argue, but I just hoped that given the circumstances at the time that things would have been left and not acted upon or challenged at all in one way or another one for each and every one of us were in some sort of shock, upset or grief including hurting and anger. No matter which way you look at it that was not the moment to pick an argument for have a fight. After my father left and my other uncle, Mr Warehouse and I arrived back home with dinner everything was tense. Here's hoping that everything would be OK tomorrow for that was the last thing that we needed another point for argument. 

Waking up on the morning of the funeral with the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hedge outside I just wanted to hide away and pretend that today was not happening at all. Hiding my head under the covers, Mr. Warehouse told me that this was a normal feeling and it would soon pass. Getting ready and heading down to my grandparents home, it's strangely had an almost wedding day like feel. With everything organised and things in place there was nothing left to do but turn up and hopefully try and enjoy what we could offer day whilst we remembered a great man. Throughout the morning as I helped people get ready and dressed, fed and watered, I can tell that Mr Warehouse was watching to see if and when I would crack. Truth be told I was fine and I had grieved for my grandfather many years ago. In a morbid sort of way I just wanted to get today over and done with so we could all start to move on. 

Arriving outside the church it was getting hotter and hotter. As the sun shone down on us standing there in our black glory I looked over to see my uncle crying which made me feel quite uncomfortable, all in the knowledge that there was simply nothing I could do to make his pain go away or for the feeling to get any better. I looked over to Mr Warehouse and he gave me a sweet smile. Soon it was time to go in and with this I stepped forward after my Grandma and my youngest cousins at just twelve and eight. I walked into the church alone and with nobody by my side. This was not how it was supposed to be. My brother should have been here by my side, and yet after all the trying and attempts made to get him to reply to my messages or even acknowledge what had happened, I walked alone. In away as I saw everybody look in our direction I realised that they were not looking at me or even my Nanna, but at the military draped coffin. I felt the lump in my throat get larger as I watched The Pine coffin being carried along the aisle the brass cross emblazoned on the back of the coffin was all I could focus my attention on and hope that I did not trip in this god awful heels. 

Sitting down on the second row on the right hand side of the church, I familiarise myself with the pictures and images I had seen as a child of Jesus Christ and other holy sentiments. It certainly was a blast from the past as I remember the times from my childhood where things were a lot less stressful and there was a lot less drama. Things were simpler back then but I was also a child and this is what happens when you grow up. People die. After listening to my father's eulogy it made me feel so proud as he stood along his two brothers, telling Granddad's life story and explaining some of the myths and legends that surrounded the man himself. Listening to that piece about my grandfather and looking around at the people that the Sat listening to only made me appreciate him more for everything that he had achieved in life and even opened my eyes to a few things I did not know about him. 

As the service came to a close I stepped out from the church into the bright sparkling sunshine. Seeing some of my mother's side of the family come to pay their respects warmed my heart and made me feel as close to crying as I possibly came throughout the day. Everyone complimented me and my family on how beautiful and personal the service was. But it was not over yet so I had to say my bit too at the crematorium. Bundling back into my Viv, I raced across town in order to try and beat the traffic in order to get to the venue first. I wanted to make sure that I was not going to be late and that I had plenty of time to maybe rehearse or even look over my notes. I could not get this wrong. I had one job and this was it. With my grandfather yet again being carried into the crematorium for the very last time again I walked in alone after my grandmother and cousins. This is not the last few weeks have been leading up to. As I was 'introduced' and took the stand I knew that this was the moment everybody had been waiting for. What was she going to say and was it going to be appropriate?

Song Lyrics? Nah. A Poem? Nope. An extract from a book? No. I have wondered for weeks what would be a good way to start this off but somehow ripping off someone else’s writing, no matter how good it is just simply isn’t my style - Is it granddad?

What do I say? Truth be told, what does anyone say? Sorry just seems a bit bland. Your not sorry. Neither am I. I had some wonderful memories with my grandfather. I don't have anything to be apologetic for yet everything to be grateful, thankful and appreciative of.

   

We had some great memories though didn’t we. Like that time after your eye operation that you had to wear an eye patch. I told everyone at school that your fought off a bear or that you are secretly a pirate. I remember when, after a few weeks of being a one-eyed bandit, Me and Sean thought it would be a good idea to cut out pictures of eyes from the magazines and stick them on your patch. The real fun though came when we figured out that heavily made up ladies eyes were much funnier!

Or how about the time that time when we had a birthday party and I thought it would be really funny to throw marbles out the window with my friends to spook people. The frustrating thing is that it never worked as they would always bounce off your soft grey afro hair!

Do you recall that moment when we were on holiday? The towels we soaked from a day at the beach or the pool and we hung them on the back of the sun-loungers to dry off. But it was all too much for the white plastic frame for when you came along to take a seat the whole thing just gave way leaving you mangled in a heap of plastic and soggy towels.

There was that moment that we went out for dinner at a quiet French village. Dusk settling in and with the hilltop vineyards as our view it was perfect. That was until the young waitress came along with our drinks, tripped, and showered you with a mix of wine and fizzy pop. Oh lord your were so mad, but I think looking back on it the faces you pulled and some of the choice English phrases you told the poor lass only makes for a funnier memoir.

One of my favourite tales, and I am sure that this will become one of yours too when I tell it is the time you visited Uncle Dave and Auntie Bernie at their Irish country cottage. From all accounts Granddad was outside coming in and on a stone floor with crutches and the dogs at his feet it was difficult keeping his balance. I suppose in a way a big slobbery dog is the last thing you want when trying to negotiate your way to the sofa and yet there she was. But before my grandfather knew it the floor seemed to give way under his crutches after placing them on what we thought was doggy dribble. In a spectacular style and yelling to my Nanna all the way he fell over. For years Granddad you thought it was dog slobber you slipped on. I am sorry to tell you that it was not. It was a puddle of wee.  

Over the years as I got older and grew from a sweet child into an independent women we shared in a stories and anecdotes about travelling the world or my sometimes eclectic dating life. I always loved hearing tales of the good old days where my grandparents were young and walking on the moon was a myth thought up by dreamers. I myself hoped that someday I would have something as special as what my grandparents had. A love to surpass all others, born out of a pure organic romance that all started because my Nanny Pumpkin was paid to come on a double date with a friend! What I want to know was how much were you paid, because you had something with granddad that is priceless and eternally lasting. All I can pray for is that one day I can reach your level of marriage where playful bickering and comedic arguments only ended when one of you laughed it off. Or muttered under your breath, which ever the other one couldn’t hear.

But for me personally my fondest memory was the arduous task of him teaching me how to ride a bike. All the cuts and the grazes, all the tears and tantrums. I cant remember how many times I stomped my feet in a grump or walked off in a huff but my goodness there was many. I hated him for it but Granddad would always make sure I came back to my little pink bike with a basket up front, shiny new white tyres and frilly tassels billowing out of the handlebars. He taught me the surest life lesson that would see me through many a problem or difficulty, probably making me the person that I am today. When you fall off your bike you should always get back up and start riding again for the longer you leave it the worse it becomes when you do. And that is what we have to remember here today is that whilst it is hard and horrible to say goodbye, we need to pick ourselves up and get peddling again. For this is not a goodbye but a mere see you soon

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Olive Branch?

Evening, 

Following my visit last week to the wonderful island of Ireland after my grandfather's departure, it was certainly a visit to see family and recuperate that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. But back home in the struggling spring of Mainland UK and with most things organised for the funeral including piecing together an all black outfit that would be appropriate for a funeral whilst still maintaining at some class and decorum about me, there was very little left to do. 

And yet I had to still try and get a hold of my brother. When it first happened, my granddad's death that is, I hoped he has some sense in trying to get in contact with the family, including both my mother or fathers sides. But what with Mr Warehouse and I travelling to Ireland, contacting my brother had slipped my mind in all fairness but as I said last week, in a funny sort of way I had made my peace with my Granddad and his demise, all I wanted is for my brother to have the opportunity do the same and make an informed choice. Last week I supposed that only time will tell. I didn't have to wait long. 

Following my return from County Kilkenny, I called round all family members, hoping to get an update or to find out that maybe given the circumstances my brother had contacted anyone, even just to send a card or to call and give his condolences and sympathies. Nothing. At the very least I thought he might reach out after all these years to our grandmother who had lost not only the love of her life but also the father to their children who eventually grew into the family she now has. But no. 

After speaking with my mother's brother, my Uncle Golf, I was informed that he to had not had any communication from my brother at all since the beginning of the month. I was disappointed to say the least. This was certainly not how our parents raised us and far from what I would expect my brother to act as an bow fully grown man. Talking more my Uncle Golf decided that my brother and I needed to talk and would be most unfortunate circumstances needed to talk and at the very least discuss the details for the funeral and what we both might like to say about our memory of our time with him. And so with this information and coupled with my brothers mobile number, on a evening after a heavy gym session I decided to give him a call. 

Was I nervous? Yes! Was I Anxious? Definitely!  Was I scared? No, he was my little bro! OK well I was a little bit but I think that all of those feelings are fairly normal when you have not spoken to someone who is meant to be one of the closest people in your life in the last four years. I suppose it is kind of morbid in a way that the last time we spoke it was at another funeral. honestly speaking I hope that it was not going to be add another but here I was. In my kitchen. In my flat. Dialling his number Mr. Warehouse stood by me stirring the pot of risotto watching it boil and bubble. It began to ring. With the dialling tone continuing I expected a voicemail to hit soon. 'Maybe he was just like his big sister putting his phone on charge and ignoring it for the whole evening?' I thought. But I barely had a moment to think about that before a deep manly voice answered the phone in a jovial tone. 

"Hiya" The young man said. Shocked, I had not expected my brother to be so receiving and happy about me calling. But oh how wrong I was! On hearing my voice my baby brother proceeded to tell me to "Fuck Off"! Stunned by his outrageous behaviour and inability to control himself and show a bit of respect, I had only a few seconds before he hung up the phone. Attempting quickly to return his call, it went almost straight to voicemail. Leaving him probably quite a lengthy and rambling on voicemail I followed up my communication, although brief with my brother, on a text message. 

Hi Sean it's me, your big sister. 

I know that you don't want to speak to me so I thought I would message you instead. Obviously I'm hoping that you know this already but if not our Granddad passed away recently. On behalf of myself, the family which you are apart of even after all these years but most importantly Granddad himself we would really like to see you. 

I understand if you do not want to come and see myself, dad or anyone else in the family for reasons I can only assume, but at the very least I think you should go and say goodbye to our Granddad one last time. I have enclosed the details below that are on all of the families social media pages as I am not sure if you have seen them. If you have not then you now have all the right information in order to make an knowledgeable decision about what you would like to do for yourself and I hope you do the right thing as a lot has changed in all these years. 

I have spoken to other family members and they have all said that if you would like they are more than welcome to offer you a lift to and from the funeral, crematorium and wake and this is including myself. 

If you end up deciding that you would not like to come to the funeral for whatever reason, personal or otherwise, then at the very least call the funeral directors and they will be able to organise a time for a personal viewing of the body so it is just you and Granddad where no one else will be allowed in. 

It's up to you at the end of the day but I would like to hope that you would still go and pay your respects to our grandfather who loved us unconditionally and irrespective of our parents and what they did or did not do. 

When everything is said and done, I just wanted to make sure that you had a chance to make an informed decision for yourself as an adult. I love you and if there is anything else I can do or that you would like to discuss them please call me. My number hasn't changed. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Back To The Emerald Isle

 Afternoon, 

Working flat out again in order to get done and dusted in time to catch the evening flight to Dublin International I raced out of the office and bombed it down the road to Nanny Pumpkin's house. Parking the car up and popping in to see her and other family members for a few moments before the cab arrived I was pleased that she was looking well, especially given the circumstances. Boarding the plane, Mr. Warehouse and I were lucky to blag not just seats together (obviously being Ryanair it was doubtful we would be sitting together unless we paid more than the flight itself) but we also managed to get slap bang in the middle of the plane meaning extra leg room for Mr. Warehouse's pins!

Arriving in a drizzly Dublin I worried as Mr. Warehouse and I bumbled through passport control and immigration, collecting our bags and heading to the hire car desk, anxiously awaiting to see if we would be given the car. This was the first time that we will be hiring a car and as such I was nervous about it all. Because I had been driving less than two-years I had difficulty trying to find a hire car to start off with, but eventually I found a reliable and trustworthy car hire company in Thrifty. I had several concerns and worries on the run up to collecting the car and one of those was the fact that there was a €1,700.00 deposit needed to be placed on a credit card. A credit card in which I did not have a limit for. And so Mr Warehouse had volunteered himself to put the deposit on his own credit card. This would have solved things nicely until we discovered that Mr Warehouse did not know what his pin was and after several attempts at a local corner shop had blocked the card. 

Worries and concerns aside we collected our hire car keys and headed to have a look at what we had bagged ourselves. Dashing out to the car park avoiding the raindrops as we went I was constantly unlocking and locking the car to see which lights would go off. Eventually the Bae spotted some headlights flashing in the distance and as we got closer and closer we realised that it was a huge 4x4 type vehicle. I thought to myself that 'surely this can't be our car' and I was right for the next few moments a gentleman walked passed us both with a briefcase. Yes this was not our car. Walking on a little further we seen clicked and found a few flashing headlights that ended up to be hours. As I sat in the driver's seat and adjusted my position to something a little more comfier, Mr. Warehouse loaded the boot up with the suitcase and paced round the outside in order to make a note of any additional knocks, bumps or scrapes. With everything seemingly in order we headed off out of Dublin city centre and on the road to the sticks (AKA County Kilkenny), arriving with my auntie and uncle just after midnight making good time on their assumptions of having to wait up until the early hours only to receive a phone call from me saying that I was lost somewhere in Galway. 

The next few days for sprint in a blissful unawareness of work or anything remotely strenuous, instead spending our time talking about family, life in general for Mr. Warehouse and I back home in the UK and drinking. Lots of drinking! The thing is that Ireland for me has always been a retreat and somewhere to rest your bones whilst the rest of the world ticks on by. Something about The Green Isle always makes me feel better after visiting. I suppose given my grandfather's departure last week, almost to the hour that I am writing this, a visit to see family and recuperate was certainly something that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. 

But alas we all have to come back to reality at some point and mine just happened to be this morning. With everything said and done most things are now organised and set in place ready for the funeral. I have yet to still get a hold of my brother, although I do hope that he has some sense in order to try and make amends with the family but if not that then at the very least to pay his respects and see our grandfather who loved us irrespective of our differences or how our parents treated one another. In a funny sort of way I have made my peace with my Granddad and all I want is for him to have the opportunity do the same. I suppose only time will tell. 


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Getting Back on The Bike

Good Evening, 

With myself and a another work colleague wrestling with telephones and battling the emails I to thought myself was it really all worth it. Don't get me wrong I loved the feeling of being under pressure and a good kind of stress. I knew that within a day or two life would be back to normal and the equilibrium would be restored back in the service department of a busy fire and security company. Getting up from my desk, probably the first time in the whole morning, I went in search to get a cup of coffee. Almost on cue my phone rang. It was my Nanny Pumpkin. 

"Hello dear. I just wanted to let you know but your Granddad has gone back into hospital again" she said hastily knowing that she had quite a few other people to call. After more than five years of constant trips to doctors, pharmacies and hospitals myself and the rest of the family were well used to having at these sorts of phone calls just find out that there was no need to worry or stress as he bounced back once more. But there was something different about this time. Something more serious. Something wrong. But with customers queueing on the phones and emails coming out of my ears I have no choice but to return to my desk and see out another day in the office. 

Throughout the afternoon I had more phone calls from Auntie's, Uncle's and even my Dad updating me on his progress or lack of thereof. After work I called around, trying to find out if anyone in the family had been able to contact my brother. It has probably been a good three maybe even four years since we last spoke, and even then it was at a funeral. God knows I didn't want it to be at another one but I needed my brother to know the details for him to make an informed choice like I had about whether he wanted to see my granddad one last time. But on speaking to my mother's sister she assured me that whilst she had fed the message back about just how poorly our grandfather was including details about where abouts he was being looked after in hospital to my brother, it would have appeared my mother was not all that serious about saying goodbye and in turn was preventing my brother from also going, even larking about 'how sick he really was'. 

Later on I discussed my decision about not going to see my grandfather in his final moments with with Mr Warehouse and I seriously worried that I have not made the right decision in going. I can only assume that after the upbringing I have had within the military family background, death is but inevitable along with taxes that is. I pondered on whether my grandfather would want me there but I settled my mind telling myself that he would be so high on drugs he would probably not even know I was there. 'How would I know if I have made that right decision to not see him?' I thought but in reality I knew the answer already and that it would only be clear if and when he was gone. My grandfather and I were never really that close. We chatted whenever I went round to see my Nanny Pumpkin and even shared in a few stories and anecdotes about travelling or dating. He was the person that taught me how to ride a bike all those many moons ago and was the person that taught me a very sure life lesson that would probably make me the person that I am today and that is when you fall off your bike you should always get back up and start riding again for the longer you leave it the worse it becomes when you do. 

Exhausted from a hard few days at work Mr Warehouse and I went to bed early where I quickly fell into a deep sleep. I was only in slumber for a few hours before I was awake once more. On waking I noted about it was still dark and was far from morning. I heard the faint tone of my mobile ringing and trying not to wake the rest of my household I went to go and answer it hoping that it would not wake Mr. Warehouse for he does get ever so grumpy without his beauty sleep. Looking at the time I could see that it was within the hour of 2am. 'Who would be calling at this hour?!' I pondered as I answered the call, expecting it to be a a drunk dial. Answering I heard my dad's voice and he sounded serious. 

"Hi. I am sorry to wake you but I thought you might need to know that your granddad has passed away tonight." My father said. And it was at this point that everything I thought about life and death came into perspective, as crystal clear as a diamond. I don't know for sure exactly what I said although I do remember asking him if he was OK despite very reason we were speaking at such a late hour. A brief conversation as it always ever was with my father he ended the call promising to speak in the morning. I was now shaking. I was freezing cold. Now I was hot. Wait, I'm going to be sick. Nope I need to poop. What the fuck is this. Now I'm cold again but sweating. My hands were clammy as I figure out my way to the bathroom for fear of something unnatural happening to me. Is this shock? Is this fear? 

Sitting on the toilet with my head hovering over the bathtub for at least 30 minutes I became more and more chilly. Head spinning I took a bowl from the kitchen and returned to the safety and warmth of my bed shared with my beloved Mr Warehouse, fast asleep, just as I had left him. But climbing back in bed did not solve my problems. I was pleasantly warm now but the clammy sweaty cold feeling did not leave me. All I could think about was my family and what I may say at the funeral. Would I be asked to say anything? How would we all get to and from the church, service and wake? What would I wear? What would Mr. Warehouse wear? What will the family say about my decision not to see him before he passed? Would the family argue over silly things? All these things that whizzed around my head until I fell back asleep. When I next open my eyes it was morning. My alarm is ringing letting me know that it was time to get up, get ready and get on with the day. As I pulled on some black leggings and a comfy jumper, a staple it seems for my work attire at the moment, Mr. Warehouse awoke, groggy from the Sandman's reign. I told him the news which suddenly seemed to make him perk up and listen. 

"Why are you going in?" Mr. Warehouse asked me, clearly concerned with how I was feeling and possibly worried as was I on how I would handle my workday today, all in the knowledge of what yesterday and the day before brought me. But I had very little choice. If I chose not to go in and stay at home I would just vegetate and watch crap TV which was not really an option when you know that someone else is going to have to pick up the pieces and run an entire five-man service desk team by themselves that was already snowed under and bombarded with constant emails, phone calls and to do lists. And so I went in. Do I regret not going in? Yes probably. Many people and mainly work colleagues told me that I should have probably not gone in that day. But the fact of the matter is that I did and let's be fair in realistic terms what choice did I honestly have. If I had not turned up and for whatever reason my other colleague has not come in also there would be absolutely no one to answer any of the customer complaints, queries or questions. After the week that I have had I could have probably done with not going in. A few close work colleagues and friends of mine had said that family comes first regardless of the job and what I was doing it should have all taken a back burner in order for me to be with my family at what was a difficult time. 

But was it though? Whilst yes what happened in the early hours of Tuesday morning was very sad and upsetting for everyone involved, myself included, unfortunately this was something that we were expecting as a family for some time now. This was far from being out of the blue and a shock to our system. Everyone was apologising and saying sorry. Whilst I did honestly appreciate their condolences, I did consider what I did in the past given the same or similar situation. I too had apologised and said sorry. But I suppose the ironic thing is that I was not sorry at all. I could not take away the pain and sadness as much as they could not take away mine. Alas we are British at the end of the day and it just so happens that we are not that great at talking and dealing with death. I mean you can hardly say "Awwh That Sucks!" when your best friend tells you her Nan died. 

In between my hectic work schedule, barrage of emails and heavy flow of customer calls I was contacted by various members of my friends and family asking me how I was. The truth was that I felt fine. Admittedly. my world was certainly not the same as it was when I went to bed last night and in a small way felt a little emptier than before. The last few days have been difficult and odd to say the least. Work has been exceptionally busy and with a hectic weekend I have barely had a moment to think. Work colleagues, friends and even Mr. Warehouse are telling me that I am taking everything in my stride and dealing with it very well. But I'm just getting on with it. Besides, gotta get back up and on the bike sooner or later?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx