Bed, Bath and Beyond ...

Evening!

Now dark and getting colder as we got deeper and deeper into the countryside of the Mendip Hills I was certainly ready to relax a little after being stuck in the driving seat for the last four-hours. The property itself was slightly difficult to find, especially in the blackness of the now early winters eve, but once found was easily located throughout our stay. On arrival we pulled over and called our host who promptly came running down the dirt track just as we pulled in. As lovely as ever, she told us to follow her young son down on the bicycle to where we would call home for the next few days. Trundling the country lanes to The Cabin, the owners had already lit the real log burning fire so on entering the humble abode it was toasty warm in comparison to the wet and windy chill that threatened our trip. 

The Cabin itself compromised of a simple hallway and corridor with doors leading to the other rooms. A small "Snug" with a small sofa bed, poof / beanbag and a wall map was classed as the second bedroom and next door a large double bedroom with full length mirrored wardrobes and plenty of space for a cot or a chair at one end. Across the way from the "Snug" was the bathroom, equipped with a large shower and plenty of storage options as well as the normal bathroom items. Other end of the hallway was the kitchen come diner come lounge area where the stove was burning away nicely and the kettle was on. Everything was cosy and well equipped especially the kitchen. There was milk waiting in the fridge for us on arrival which was especially appreciated since we had forgotten this on our travels down. Although the sofa and arm chair were a tad on the small side and slightly dated we could not begrudge the owners just on this. Within moments of leaving I had suggested to Mr. Warehouse that had a hot tub been present the owners could well have charged double the £180-odd it was to stay there and would maybe have a few more bookings. It would certainly be an additional benefit and luxury I would have been delighted with. 

Settling in Mr. Warehouse and I unpacked the car and made our way to bed after long days at work and a tiresome drive of a Wednesday evening. Waking on the following morning though was a certainly a lovely experience. With the aches and pains setting in from my personal training session the day before I was glad that I awoke to hearing Mr. Warehouse and Pup playing chase outside in the paddock. Listening to them run up the wooden steps to the front door I awaited the thud of paws and feet into the bedroom for my favourite people to bundle me on our new bed. 

On finishing breakfast we bid farewell to our pooch as we headed out for our spa day in Bath. Now this is probably one of the most pricey things I have bought or paid for in a while and for £150.00 I really did hope that our afternoon at the UK's only Thermal spa - Thermae Spa Bath. What did I get for that sort of money you ask? Well firstly it was a half early Christmas present and half anniversary present for myself and also Mr. Warehouse too so the seventy-five quid price tag per person didn't seem too harsh on the wallet, not when you consider the four-floors of relaxation and renew including a sauna, two steam rooms, solarium, ice chamber, rain showers, Minerva pool, jacuzzi's, whirlpools and the pièce de résistance  A roof top heated and lit pool overlooking the city and cathedral. Beautiful as that was I was also looking forward to the Thermae Treat spa package including a Reviver Back Massage, a Facial and a Head massage, To be fair, for the price that I paid (well for the price that I put on my credit card ... ) I think it was worth it. I loved the smell of the place and I can still catch a scent in my makeup brushes even this morning. Would I go again?! Definitely! However I would of course liked to have made it a full day of relaxing and more treatments to spread throughout the day, broken up with trips to the sauna and dips in the pools. 

A walk through the Christmas Markets made me more happier at the content than that of York's disappointment last year. There was so much more, stalls and huts everywhere and down every nook or cranny there was even more. And after a relaxing Friday at The Cabin taking the pooch for a long woodland walk and cuddling up on the sofa for a session of crap telly and food bought from a local butchers in the town of Wells, Mr. Warehouse and I had returned to the Christmas Markets of Bath City Center in order to spend out our last full day in style. Mulled Wine, Warmed Cider, samples aplenty and tasty things everywhere I was certainly super impressed with the amount of produce and products on offer from the huts and stalls. So much more than any other UK based Christmas Market I had visited before, be it York, Birmingham, London or more local. As the (fake) snow fell from the night sky I was certainly disappointed to be leaving as despite ticking the Roman Baths off the tourist hot-spots list, there was still a fair amount of things I wanted to see and do including the Pulteney Bridge in the daytime (walked along it at night, although Mr. Warehouse was tired and becoming increasingly hangry by the moment). Taking long walks with my Beau and Puppy in the Jane Austen inspiring Prior Parks and gardens, Cheddar Gorge and Wookey Hole (although mainly for the cheese I must admit). All of this and more including trips to nearby Bristol, Weston-Super-Mare and other towns and villages in turn means Mr. Warehouse and I will just have to return. I suppose we best check out how that Thermae Spa is doing as well, you know, just to check. But I cant get holiday blues just yet since in less than seventy-two hours I will be in the wonderful winter wonderland of Prague. Here's hoping its not too chilly ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Holding On ...

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

Evening One and All, 

Sat on the hard wooden chair it was crunch time. Purple walls reflected my inner emotions; a mixture of what used to be clear, colourful feelings. Now they were muddled and confused. On the one hand I could sympathise and understand fully what my best friends were doing and why they were doing it. On the other I knew better than anyone how my relationship was, how Mr. Cheese made me feel and ultimately what made it tick. The question was though - Is it still ticking?

So pending the somewhat flop of last weekend away with Mr. Cheese I have been struggling yet again with my emotions surrounding the situation I have now found myself. Sat in Miss Tweedle-Dee's lilac dining room I felt as if I was at an intervention. No, I was addicted to drugs. Neither was I addicted to alcohol. No. It was because of my poor relationship that I was here and that the only thing I was addicted to was love; Or at least the idea of it anyway. With my good-cop/bad-cop roles forming in my head I desperately tried in vain to avoid answering questions from Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. With no success I said I needed time to think about what needed to happen following the weekend that I had with Mr. Cheese and as to how I (or maybe we) were going to make things better and get them back on track. I have indeed tried not to dwell too much on the mini-break away to Bristol with my boyfriend however it is hard to see what good moments we shared when one night had ended in tears for at least one of us. I wont wholly bash the holiday entirely as that obviously wouldn't be fair, but I think what is correct to say is that for one reason or another, things are no where near as rosey as they once were only a fortnight ago. And as a result of last weeks post and a few brief chat's with both of my Tweedles I have come to the conclusion that maybe this is the 'compter de la fin'. 

The thing is that even from the very beginning I knew this was going to be hard work. The fact that Mr. Cheese and I are both damaged good from previous relationships-gone-wrong, coupled with the normal everyday strains of a long distance relationship doesn't help. It is a tough one as there is so much that is good and righteous with our relationship. For starters his family are just blindingly brilliant in every way. Momma Cheese is what I one day hope to aspire too. She is kind and caring, completely ditzy and reminds me totally of myself at times. Pappa Cheese is much the same, the head of the family and always one to compliment me on how funny I always find him, despite the rest of the clan wanting to die with embarrassment. The two younger brothers are hilarious and are always on hand with some lively banter and a good story or two. The oldest brother I have not yet spent enough time with him to comment entirely on although I hoped that it would have been more. Mr. Cheese's grandparents are again funny in their own little ways and are just wonderful old people through and through. I wouldn't have a bad word to say about any of them at all, even if I tried. It is just utterly heartbreaking to know that they might not be playing centre stage in my life for much longer. 

My heart is pounding as I write just thinking about the demise of The Cheese. A saga lost to what? Not enough affection? Lack of attention? Loss of passion? A deficiency in lustful convictions? But even as I sit here as I have done for the past week and wonder how or when I shall end it I know I don't want it too. I care for my boyfriend very much. I even have gone as far as to say that I love him which is a monumental thing to say to someone when you have loved and lost to the highest degree before. We have a laugh, albeit a grown-up one the majority of the time. We bounce off each other and enjoy the companionship and friendship more than anything. However, maybe that is the issue. Maybe I am only but a friend to my dear Mr. Cheese. I hope I'm not but I am clinging onto straws in order to differentiate between me and some of his other female friends. The majority of people would say sex, and yes, in all essence of the phrasing it is but love-making is never as high on Mr. Cheese's agenda as it is on mine, that is clear from the weekend recently experienced. After such a long time of wondering if it is me or not I am starting to think that it is far from my fault things are failing in the bedroom department. I have tried everything from suspenders to football shirts, corsets to flavoured condoms and even switching up the moves and gears but nothing seems to make the difference. Now I know I'm not a Victoria Secrets model but I used to feel confident within myself and my body. Somewhere along this journey I have lost that. 

I love Mr. Cheese to pieces but I know that from a relationship I need it to forthcoming and fun and energetic and lively and exciting. Right now I feel unattractive, under-valued, unloved and unwanted. As soon as my boyfriend of nearly a year are alone together, he fails to respond to my gestures of love-making. He doesn't want to rip off my clothes or touch me up in all the wrong places. As a girlfriend it is my duty equal to that of my partner to initiate sex, but I constantly find myself on top and asking the question ''Do you want to have sex with me?''. Sometimes I just want to scream with frustration at the lack of sex drive he has. I don't want to ask the question but I am increasingly fighting the urge to get him to see someone specialist to see if there is anything wrong biologically that makes his sex drive so low or as a reverse why mine is so high? It is not that when Mr. Cheese and I have sex that it is bad sex. Far from it. When we do finally get to that moment in time where my boyfriend (in my head at least) finds me even mildly attractive that he wants to engage in the ultimate submission of love, it is fantastic. Fireworks, breathy sweet nothings and squeals of pleasure are all exerted with passion and heat and intimacy. Its just that for me it is not enough and when you only see each other on the weekends in between juggling friends, family, career and home-life it's hard but I still can't fathom why, even after ten-months, we are still not at it like rabbits on heat. 

Maybe it's the distance? I have always said to myself I would never purposefully engage in a relationship that took me further than the neighbouring counties boarders, but falling for Mr. Cheese was not something I planned and nor did I initially want. I don't want to break it off with Mr. Cheese. I feel like we have both made such an effort to try and make it work, myself mainly. I just don't know how much longer I can keep my head above water. It's almost as if I have developed a catch-phrase for every time something goes wrong simply concluding every issue with 'it'll get better'. I'm just not sure that better is coming. Maybe I am right. Maybe when football season is over things will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese moves back to the 'Shire in a few weeks time it will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese returned from Ghana in the winter things will improve? Question is will we even last as a two-some until Mr. Cheese's African adventure in September and if we do will I exists after? 

Meeting outside Farringdon Station in London on Saturday night I was dressed to the nines and ready to cheer on the England boys playing against Italy in Brazil for the World Cup 2014. Freezing I waited for Mr. Cheese to arrive so we could meet some of his friends in a local bar. Arriving I saw that look again where he almost looked proud to have me on his arm. With my legs and breast meat on show that night I thought I would pull out all the stops in the attempt of fixing the problems of the Saturday beforehand. Trying to talk to him honestly about my feelings whilst pacing round the cobbles of The Big Smoke nearly getting lost and running out of time before kick-off was not how I pictured this to be. It seemed though that Mr. Cheese is reluctant to discuss any of this with me at all. Finally we arrived outside the pub. Stopping in the street I asked him simply not to make me cry again and to only love me and keep me happy. A simple request that by the end of the weekend would yet again be left in tatters. After having his best friend stay at the flat after the game had ended we didn't have any time alone to talk in depth about the problems that were constantly present. The following morning en route to breakfast with the Cheese Family just off of London's Oxford Street I attempted again to bring it up. Failing to see the importance of such a discussion and the perils that lye with not attending to such issues I was shrugged off and only to be told that "this was not the weekend to discuss it". Feeling hurt, deflated and utterly devastated I did what I always do best and put on a brave face and smiled for the camera's as we entered the restaurant for Eggs Royale and Americano's with the family. As I sat round the table it was as if I was hiding a hideously deplorable secret. I thought to myself sharing bread with one of his brothers and laughing with his Mom that this may well be the last time I see them again. I never thought it would but I felt a physical twist in my heart and I had to take another sip of my coffee to steady myself. It hurt. It really hurt. 

All these things I have to take into consideration. The family. The separation from one another. The distance. The hope that it may get better. Yet again everything is swirling round in my head like a heavy night out and trip to the local kebab shop. I hate feeling like this. I shouldn't feel like this. But I do. It seems that this has been said so many times that I'm not sure if it matters anymore? There just is no fight there from him - To fight for us, for our relationship. I hesitate to think about how any relationship involving two 22-year-old's should be like this, especially in the short time we have been dating. Its stale. Not out of date yet but definitely stale. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Minibreak Mayhem And An Australian Invasion

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

Afternoon everyone,

As I sit on this train, hurtling through the West Country as a Bristolian driver whines instructions about train etiquette I realise that this weekend whilst far from over has been a whirlwind of emotions. With my Boyfriend sat beside me I think about what the future holds for us given the weekend we have had. Its a complicated one you see as whilst our mini break away to Bristol has been a mostly pleasurable experience I know that there are not many moments like this until Mr. Cheese's departure to Ghana in a matter of weeks. And this thought seems to make everything inside my head all the more difficult.

This weekend never started out as that though. In fact very far from my thoughts and worries of Africa entirely. After meeting The Cheese and his fit flatmate in a their local for a few drinks, we headed back to the flat and proceeded with how the last few weeks have been; Blissfully in love and impassioned with one another. Barely being able to contain both our excitement or lust for each other I helped the boyfriend pack his bag ready for the morning. Hopping into bed I knew I couldn't sleep without some bedtime antics and for once Mr. Cheese was unable to sleep either. And so the commencement of duvet delights coupled with a gloriously long make out session was mine, ending with the softness of the chest wig against my cheeks as I slowly drifted off to Dreamland. Friday morning was an early start for Mr. Cheese and so I thought I would be kind and get up with him to help motivation kick start. As it turns out he was in a rush so I opted to stay back at the flat a bit before I had to leave for the hairdresser's in Kensington, London. I enjoyed my morning with Cheese's flatmate as we get along well and have alot in common with film and music tastes.  Although after hastily getting the snip in the salon I whizzed over to Paddington to meet Mr. Cheese from work and board our train. Grabbing some lunch on the way we greeted one another with a cheeky smile and headed for the platform, eventually finding our seats and settling down for the journey.

Bristol soon arrived and stepping onto the hot concrete of Temple Meads station we both mentioned the summer holiday feeling our bones had craved for. Despite me not having a summer holiday this year I was treating my mini break with the Boyfriend as such. I had been plotting away for some weeks with Momma Cheese to join their family holiday and surprise Mr. Cheese on his birthday whilst out in Greece,  however that all fell through last Tuesday when I found out it would cost me well over a grand just for one week. Unfortunately I just don't have the money and so my Greek Island fantasies shall stay as such. Nevertheless it didn't completely stop me revelling in the lush fluffy bedsheets of the deluxe room we were staying in.  As soon as we clicked open our room door all I saw was opportunity after opportunity for sexual frolicking. From the desk to the chair to the bath then the shower and the wardrobe (yes the wardrobe) and even the luggage holder complete with leather straps. However I feel that maybe my agenda was slightly squeued to that of my other half's as we swiftly dropped our luggage and headed out to explore the city.

After trawling many a great mountain around the city sights we ended up at a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Now those that know me will know that I have never been one for foreign food from far off lands such as Asia, however I felt that maybe I should experiment and not wanting to disappoint Lover Boy I agreed to the Chinese cuisine.  Looking at the menu, stunned at the prices I could feel that duck was tickling my taste buds. Crispy duck I thought. And so when the native waitress came to take our orders she was befuzzled by our choice to two portions of the half-crispy-duck. Feeling the pressure to choose something else as she looked at me with a judging gaze I reluctantly changed my mind to a spicy slow cooked variety of the same bird. Not feeling wholly comfortable with my choice of dinner we conversed until its arrival. Disappointment spread across my face like wildfire although I tried to hide this from my Dinner Date. Whilst I watched with envy at his crispy fried duck I chomped slowly on the fatty cuts of meat that accompanied my noodles and veg. Not wanting to seem ungrateful I nodded and agreed with both our waitress and Mr. Cheese on how wonderful it all was as I gnawed at the hunks of fatty meat. I knew then that my once adventurous nature of this evening had been too adventurous. Trotting back to the hotel room I anticipated something lustful before painting the town red in Bristol's lively student district. Again  disappointment followed as Mr. Cheese was too tired to venture past the sheets and thus we fell asleep quickly after, blessed only with the promise that Saturday night we would be hitting both the bottle and the dance floor.

Fourteen hours later after a mammoth sleeping sesh, we woke at midday and despite my advances to lure the beast from the cage as it were they were yet again dismissed. I was starting to feel more like a friend than a girlfriend but put on a smile and donned a summery outfit, my thoughts turning to the evening and how stunning I would look after getting ready that I would be begging Mr. Cheese to put me down. Smiling to myself we excited the hotel and walked into the thick heavy heat of Saturday afternoon, plodding round the markets and shops, listening in to other people's conversations and generally being caught up with each other in a romantically heady mix of summeriness. Gorgeous as the day was we returned to the hotel before heading to the spa and then changing for dinner. Yet again my attempts at seduction were shunned after getting out of the pool and as a result provoked questions as to why this was so. I don't know, maybe its more of a man thing but I was under the impression that with a big expensive hotel, endless options of lovemaking surfaces and a hot and horny girlfriend that venturing outside room 237 wouldn't have been first on the to do list. And so with the same old reasons as before we headed to dinner at a posh eatery on the other side of the city, with the promise of a drunken night out ahead I was sure that the somewhat dry spell would be over this evening. And it was. I just didn't realise that the dry spell would be broken from my face not my pants.

Once we paid for dinner in which even splitting the bill hurts my purse now three days on, we went back to the room to change and get ready for the bright lights of student digs and cheap drinks. Thus was not to be the case yet again. As I sashayed out of the bathroom into the coolness of the room, face beautified and hair perfectly placed I slipped on my killer dress and presented myself to my boyfriend. For one of the first times during this trip I saw his face light up. Instantly reaching out for me I steadied myself,  begging him to chase me for once and not lazily wait for me to get on top. Standing at the edge of the bed I could see that whilst my ensemble was only half finished, I was still not alluring to my boyfriend. Feeling absolutely deflated I had enough. That was the last straw. Checking the time, it was gone eleven and with Mr. Cheese not even remotely ready yet I knew we wouldn't be going out - Again! His promise had been broken. Angry at being let down and feeling both unloved, unappreciated and totally unsexy I furiously ripped off my dress, wiped off my make up and climbed into the soft recluse of the quilt all with little or no reaction from Cheese.

Slowly sinking into the sheets my thoughts turned dark and dangerous. What was wrong with me? What did I do wrong? Am I really that fat and unattractive that he doesn't even find me mildly sexually stimulating? Was there something I said or did that was out of place? Why doesn't he want to have sex with me? All the questions I thought I had banished weeks ago suddenly flooded me once more, but this time with a vicious fury of emotions. As I lay there, Mr. Cheese clearly preparing himself for bed, I could feel myself fizzing with anger. How dare he plan me a night out on the town and then fail to deliver, only to then make a promise to the break, along with a little piece of my heart. Raging tears pricked my eyes and I struggled to fight them off. He knew how much I loved a good night out and with the lack sexual desire for me I felt like shit.

Then just as I thought things couldn't get worse, from the corner of my eye I saw the flicker of the TV. Green filled the screen as I adjusted my position only to realise that it was football. The tears I was holding back could wait no more and proceeded to stream down my nose and soak my pillow. Trying to stifle the sobs as the game continued I thought about how I would end it. How can things have been so perfect and then end like this. Bristol was meant to be a fun weekend away with my wonderful boyfriend and now I am crying into my pillow as he enthusiastically watches the world cup friendly against Honduras. 'This is the end' I thought to myself. 'Yes, my boyfriend who I openly love would rather watch football than keep his promises to spend time with his girlfriend'. Thinking of the end only made things worse and I tried in vain to stop the floods as I thought of his family that I cared for so much. The surprise I was planning with Momma Cheese. Mr. Cheese's and their banter. Pappa Cheese and his unfunny jokes. Granny, Grandpa and Grandma Cheese whom all were elated that we were back together after our break. All would be lost. I couldn't bear that heartache a second time around, not after Mr. Workaholic. I felt like just packing my bags and heading home. I wanted home. I didn't want to be here any more. As the whistle blew I mustered the courage to turn and face the man who had ruined everything.

'So at which point during this evening did you plan to break your promise? Was it before or after you made the decision that a bunch of men running round after a sodding football was more important than me, your girlfriend?!' I started, angrily biting back at his complacent baby face. I was tamping. Nothing was holding me back. I told him everything - Well most things. All of it out. I felt asking if there was anything wrong with him as I knew in my heart it wasn't me to really blame. Mr. Cheese tried to scapegoat the situation but I nipped that straight in the bud and told him where to get off. After what seemed like an age going round in the same pond I always found myself in with him I grew tired of arguing and simply ended it by stating that all I want is to be loved and wanted. I just want him to feel attracted to me, stimulated by me, enthralled and enraptured by me. Is that too much to ask for from someone who claims to love me?! The rest of the weekend continued as it should without any mention of it again. It had crossed my mind several times of finding a solution to the areas of my relationship that needed improving but alas that is not an option I feel is viable.

On the plus side however we did have makeup sex after our row and although mind blowing as it normally is, the aftermath was not as such. Exhausted from crying, arguing and sex I resumed my position with my head rested on the tipee moobs, cushioned by chest wig and with one leg out of the covers laying over The Boyfriends lower half. Just as small talk subsides I hear an almighty crash down the hall from our room. Thinking nothing more of it other than probably one of the stags back from what should be our heavy night of drinking I dismissed it. That was until the swift click of the cardkey in the hotel room door and being thrust open. Startled and not expecting any visitor's boyfriend and I looked up to be greeted by a tall, well built stranger in our room. Standing in the doorway, bemused as we were, only lit by the corridor he looked like a god. Adjusting my eyes I soon realised that not only was this man very drunk and very attractive but I was also very naked. After a few good minutes of intrigue and puzzled faces the opening line came from the owner of chest wig himself.

'Can I help you?' Mr. Cheese asked, typically British and politely as if he had just asked for directions. The illuminated man answered back with our room number. An Australian accent filled the room and I could feel myself dampening again. With both men seemingly unable to help the situation further I waded in abruptly, firing my previous anger at the hot Aussie rather than at the man I was hugging the chest of. 'Wrong room!' I barked. After the few seconds it took him to acknowledge my notion, and clearly swaying in a drunken haze the butch Australian left shutting the door on his way out saying no more. In hindsight I suppose I should have jumped at the opportunity of a random drunk man with a Australian accent tumbling into my hotel room at 2am. When looking back on the situation I am as equally disappointed that he didn't introduce himself with a friendly Australian 'Gooday'. When answering the question of 'How can we help' with the correct room number I should have asked him to join us in bed, there was plenty of room and I definitely wouldn't have complained about being piggy in the middle. But alas he left and the boyfriend and I giggled at the stranger the entered our room that evening and how different the situation could have been only a matter of minutes earlier. Maybe then he would have joined in.

The rest of the weekend continued nicely with sunshine most days and lazy mornings in bed. Despite the lack of sex I'm still happy although I would be lying if I said that my thoughts were not still marred over the remainder of the mini break. I will however attempt to not think too much but as ever my thoughts are beginning to plague my mind but I now know that the only person that can cure them is the one person that breeds them...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx