Direwolves & Dragon Queen's

Evening everyone, 

I am sick and tired of hearing and reading and listening to damned Coronavirus this and COVID-19 that. Fuck off back under the rock you crawled out from under, or the meat market you originated as the case may be. I suppose I should be grateful for one thing and that is more time to catch-up on what is on the box and popular on TV. One thing I have always been told was right up my street in terms of Telly and I would enjoy watching was Game of Thrones. Based on the bestselling book series by George R.R. Martin, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss create a masterpiece where Summer's span decades, Winter's can last a lifetime and the struggle for the Iron Throne begins. Now I will start off by stating that there will be no spoilers, just in case you yourself were hiding under a rock with 'Rona. 

I had never really had the time to get into Game of Thrones and by the time it all started getting good and people started talking about it become a general pop culture subject there were too many seasons to catch-up with and much like the rest of the TV series I wanted to watch in the past, Dexter being another one, there was not enough time to get up to speed. That is until a global pandemic starts and all of a sudden we have nothing else better to do. 

The Website Vox.com describes the HBO series perfectly. Premiering in April 2011 (long before facemasks and fighting over bogroll) the story tells of a medieval country's civil war. Set on the fictional continents of Westeros and Essos in a world where seasons stretch on for years but following a decade-long summer coming to an end, and winter looming the battle to claim the "Iron Throne," the seat of the king of the Seven Kingdoms, begins. The show is divided into three major plotlines Vox.com continues. The first covers the battle between the lords of the continent of Westeros — most notably members of the Baratheon, Lannister, and Stark families — who are involved in the fight for the Iron Throne. The second follows the rise of Daenerys Targaryen, the last member of an exiled family as she builds an army in Essos to reclaim the throne. The third plot takes place in the North of Westeros among the Night's Watch, an armed unit that guards the 300-mile-long, 70-foot-tall wall that protects the rest of the continent from the mythical creatures that lurk there.

If you, like me, struggle with finding the next best thing to occupy your time with, the blog on the dedicated Game of Thrones website, hosted by HBO, sets out 5 Reasons to Start Game of Thrones Now - And honestly, you really should. Fans of the hit TV show are passionate and devoted to the tales and battles, ready to debate, defend, or just reminisce. We’re not saying you have to dress up like the Mother of Dragons, but at least you know you’ll have a go-to for dinner conversation.

Whilst the series has come to an end (and no-one is more sad about this than me right about now) it has launched the careers of many well-known faces and household phrases. Emilia Clarke who plays the beautiful Daenerys Targaryen, Kit Harington's character being the iconic (and most unreal specimen of mankind perfection) Jon Snow and Maisie Williams who we watched grow up on screen as little Arya Stark, not to mention a few familiar faces from ye olde days of "Skins" on Channel 4 -  Hannah Murray who played airy-fairy Cassie and Partier and drug taker Chris, played by Joe Dempsie, another one I had a crush on. 

Popular phrases such as “Winter is here.” “Hold the door.” & “You know nothing, Jon Snow.” are all common meme's and phrases you will become accustomed to and find yourself repeating at any given opportunity. Jumping on the bandwagon eight-weeks ago I figured that the 59 Grammy Awards and its reputation was there for a reason. That and the Jon Snow Eye-candy isn't too bad either. I have now developed a terribly unhealthy obsession over Jon Snow acted throughout by the god that is - Kit Harington. Starting off as a bit of something nice too look at and admire, I soon became weak at the knees for those deep tones and curly black locks. 

However, as the series went on and without the wait for weeks or months for a new season to be released I was soon drowning in love for the fur-clad hunk! Alas, I do what any normal red-blooded women in her late twenties does. Stalks him endlessly on the internet, changes her screen background and goes back to her days of being a teenager, scowling the web for some filthy, raunchy fan fiction. Now I won't go into detail here, however, if you fancy a NSFW read and something to get you sweating more than dragon's breath then why not follow this link ... Thank me later! So step aside Daenerys Targaryen and Ygritte - He's Mine. Well not quite since he married his co-star Rose Leslie (they met on set and fell in love while playing Jon Snow and Ygritte) at their wedding in an Aberdeen castle, Scotland. What?! I told you I stalked him ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Crackling Idea!

Ola!

Still we are on our hunt for a videographer, however this time they are taking a back seat as Mr Warehouse and I start to look into catering again. Following the blog posts previous with our "The Gluttonous Guest List" and the dreaded "'W' Word" we have cautiously started to embark on the next voyage of discovery and financial entrapment! After settling down to a rough number for our guest list back before Christmas, we calculated a round figure and cost per head and sent it out to as many caterers as we could find and think of, stating that the event we were catering for was a "family meal" rather than the 'W' word as it seems to add on an extra thirty or forty percent to the total bill for no apparent rhyme or reasoning. Essentially this is still true since the only difference between a genuine family meal and a wedding is that I am going to be sitting in a fat white dress. 

Ideally, we were, still are really, looking for a sit-down meal consisting of 2-courses and finishing with our wedding cake as dessert handcrafted hopefully by a family friend. The catering facilities at Stagsden Village Hall are very basic and minimal as it is an old school house, however, they do have two ovens with hobs and a fridge plus crockery, glasses and tableware we are able to use. Now I was quite understanding, as was Mr Warehouse, that we were not going to get Foie Gras or Duck Breast for our wedding breakfast, however, we were anticipating something simple yet effective.

After multiple caterers coming back to tell us our budget was outside of what they could do for us, we had not one but two catering companies that were able to supply us with a quote and even some sample menus. My fiance and I had asked commonly requested things from anyone providing food for an event such as if the price included VAT or whether they work with fresh or frozen food and how would they handle last-minute requests or changes.  However, after several back-and-forth emails and questions, the caterers stated that "After careful consideration and a discussion with the team [the catering company] are unable to cater for your event, as it wouldn't be cost effective for us to do so due to your requirements and budget. Unfortunately we may have crossed wires throughout e-mails, as [the catering company] were unaware that the catering required was for a Wedding as no mention of this throughout the correspondence and that our Wedding packages start from £30.00 + VAT per head due to the preparation involved and the high standard of service we like to provide for our brides." 

Be it a wedding, family event or Uncle Eric's funeral, you would expect the same level of service and ergo the same price per head. But Ohhh No! Furious at being asked to pay nearly treble the original cost quoted, for a menu, Mr Warehouse and I were extremely happy with, I emailed them back. The catering company replied by attempted to justify the price increase, stating that they "feel from the original enquiry, there was a different impression of the type of catering and service required and anticipated only sending a maximum of two members of staff. We understand when you have said that you would not be fussy about the preparation, but for a Wedding, there will be a lot more involvement to go towards making your Day a special occasion and we can’t offer this type of service for under our standard Wedding price of £30 + VAT per head."

At the time I was so angry and just could not believe that the mere mention of the word wedding would increase the price by nearly twenty-quid per head! That is where my gorgeous Husband-to-be came in with his idea of Italian Family style eating. Imagine heaping platters of delicious food brought directly to the guests' table. No waiting in long buffet lines or figuring out which table goes first. Family style is a beautifully presented and relaxed style of dining, that makes guests or event attendees feel right at home. Platters, full of fresh food, delivered to each table so that guests can enjoy a relaxed meal without leaving their seats. Something I had never thought of, however, the more I think about it the more I like it. And again we are back at the drawing board, sending out quotation requests to as many caterers as we could find and think of and find within a thirty-mile radius. Ideally, we would be looking for a Hog Roast man, just as it is easy and most people are happy with that for a main along with a few pasta dishes, salads and tatties. Not only that but it also lends itself to being great for evening guests too as when the dancefloor becomes too hot they can chill out with a pig in a bun and crackling on the side!

Other than the catering, most of the sourcing of suppliers has been done and the booking process won't be much far behind that. Since Mr Warehouse keeps insisting that we can't afford a holiday this year (I think we can with a variety of vouchers, money off codes and a good old haggle) I have thrown myself head first into Wedding Planning and some would say maybe neglect my gorgeous Hubby-To-Be, putting all of my focus and energy into planning our dream day. 

'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

Hot Days, Hot Wings and Hot Messes!

Good Morning, 

So you know how last week I was telling you about how great my dog is, let's just say my expectations of her have severely gone down the pan. Let me tell you the story and set the scene ... 

Imagine my joy of a bank holiday weekend all to myself, at least Saturday anyway. With Mr. Warehouse working overtime on Saturday, I thought that I would spend my morning catching up on some telly and relaxing on the sofa with my partners pooch. The morning soon turned into the afternoon as Mr. Warehouse turned out to be working longer than usual. Finishing just before the FA Cup final started (not my decision to watch it of course) I collected my Bae and headed to get some food from the local KFC. After ordering food with headed home and to the comfort of our cool front room and our little poochie-poo's to watch the FA Cup Final and following our a cosy night in we headed to bed as we had an early start the next morning. 

Sunday in true British fashion we headed out to a car boot sale in a neighbouring Village and dog in tow we headed out to look for some bargains. Returning home in the early afternoon I  started to bake a cake for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Birthday meal that evening. All of a sudden and realising what time it was, I dashed out to run some errands and get the car valeted before returning home to get ready and throw on something half decent, grab the cake, and Mr. Warehouse, feed the dog and leave for the forty-minute car journey back home to Houghton Regis / Dunstable, and all before Six-O'Clock. 

Regardless of our lateness, Mr. Warehouse and I got to the restaurant on time and even had time en route to pick up a few stragglers. Although arriving on site and parking the car was tricky for Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Mr. Warehouse and I had not had enough time to drop off the cake to the restaurant prior to collecting Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Boyfriend so I gave the job of hot-footing it into the restaurant with said cake, styled on some sort of Instagram unicorn cake that totally did not turn out as I expected, basically looking like a melted down version of its well prepared social media cousins. Nevertheless we all had an amazing dinner and finished it all off in the garden of my childhood bestie. 

Returning home however I was shattered as was Mr. Warehouse. We had been very productive and got a lot of things done that we had been meaning to get round to for a while, but I suppose that is what Bank Holidays are for right? Drifting off into dreamland I wondered what tomorrow would bring and what both myself and Mr Warehouse would be doing on our last day of freedom before heading back to work. We had ideas and pipe dreams about going to London or even to an attraction nearby but after not booking anything and a late night Sunday we decided we would take the day as it comes and not making any expensive or big plans. 

Waking up this morning though I was disappointed when I sat down on the sofa with my morning coffee only to realise what carnage had happened either last night or in the early hours of this morning, As our dog walked around the side of the sofa and sat on the floor I wondered what was poking out from under her blonde fluffy bottom, She was trying to hide it I could tell but there is no getting past what I was seeing in front of me and after calling my boyfriend into the room, we both started to snigger. 

As I asked my dog to get up she agreed but looked at me with regret and guilt. Under her bottom was a torn open bag from  the local KFC we had a few nights ago. Bad I know but I had put my Hot Wings in a bag on the side, ready to eat them later on. unfortunately it looks like someone had beaten me to it and as Pooch hid her sorry-ass face from me I tried to install some discipline and tell her that she was naughty and a "Bad Bad Girl". Immediately she retreats to her bed, knowing what she has done wrong, all with a silly grin on her face as if to say "You know one day we are all gonna laugh about this"

Throughout today her hunger has obviously not been appeased for she has eaten breakfast, dinner, some left over yogurt, gravy and her usual doggy dentastix. I would have thought you were full up, but no, how stupid of me to thing that my Labrador is full. I caught several looks today as if to apologise for eating my beloved Hot Wings, but I also saw a few that in my head taunted me with phrases like "I enjoyed your Hot Wings" and "You should feed me steak like the poodle two doors down" all accompanied by the look stating that within the next few days I will be recovering chicken bones from a hot mess on the floor of the grass patch she has taken for herself on our walks. 

Despite all of this however she is still my Step-Pup and no matter how much you annoy me or shit so much it over fills the bag or even how much you enjoyed eating my fucking Hot Wings, I love you. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Love is in The Air and It Stinks!

Hello there!

And what a busy week I have been having since the laziness of the past few. So typical boring British I shall begin with the weather however don't be turned off just yet as I am merely stating the fine fact that the past few days have been warmer than average and I am looking out of my window now at work from my new desk as Credit Control Administrator with a smile on my face in the knowledge that summer is only just around the corner. 

So this week in the UK and I am assuming most other places on planet earth it was that god awful day ... Valentine's Day. Now I love 'Love' and in fact I am sure that some of you will know that I am the kind of person that falls very easily and quickly for someone. Not naming names here but there is more Mr. Men here that there is in a children's book store! I enjoy the fact that for at least one day a year everyone should have the ability to either get chocolates, beer, flowers or sex and if your in a relationship then lucky you because you probably are getting all three. Valentine's Day is a wonderful occasion that you can celebrate with your loved one. Unfortunately for me those days were over some weeks ago and so this year I spent my Valentine's with my fellow singleton, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her cat (Although I'm not sure if the cat has a lover? Great now I'm starting to think that the cat gets laid more than I do!) 

Every year this calender event rolls around and every year I feel like carrying around a sick bag just watching other people being in love and in all honesty happy. I hate it. And yet at the same time I want to join in and share in that love although it is frowned upon to just pull up a chair to a couple on a date in a restaurant (Not from experience of course!) It is such a bitter/sweet moment. The fact is that whilst I had purchased slushy and somewhat crude Valentine's card's for Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee; I had also purchased, signed, sealed and delivered such a card for a certain someone. I shall not name names but I have been told off by many friends of mine for sending such a thing and to never do it again. Yes, that might not have been the most cleverest of things to do but I thought nothing of it and if I'm honest; hoped it would patch up some holes. 

Friday night after finishing work I headed home and packed a bag for the weekend. Not only was I indulging in a night in with my Miss Tweedle-Dee but I was also meeting with Miss Cupcake who is getting married in several months. Miss Cupcake has asked me to be the photographer for her wedding as mentioned last week and we had finally put aside some time in our busy schedule's to walk around the grounds in which the soon-to-be-weds intend to take their vows. Looking outside however hearing the rain start to drizzle down my quaint windows I felt that this may not be the weather for a half-hour walk to the train station. But I couldn't leave it as knowing England the rain could go on for days. Braving the cold, wet droplets I headed for the station only to get there colder and wetter than when I first started out. I was now frustrated and annoyed and just wanted to be warm and cuddly. And the mood did not improve when I got to the other end. I boarded the wrong bus which stopped half way and chucked me out in the middle of where I grew up (A place I despise with a passion). A typically deprived 'chav'-area and despite living there for the longest period in my life I had not taken on the appearance of a common resident around those parts. A life filled with 'Jeremy Kyle' and the occasional spliff, lounging in bed all day with the only reasons to get up is either going to sign on, feeding one of your nine children (all by different fathers) or maybe a trip to the local shops to steal stuff in your Primark ugg boots and pyjamas, or if your lucky a velour tracksuit! Yes I did not miss my hometown. 

Angrily cursing under my breath I huffed into the freezing air. Aggravated I punched in the numbers of a local cab company I knew of. As it dialled through I thought about how unsatisfying it is to just press a screen when you are mad. Long gone are the days where you could push down so hard of buttons they would catch under the plastic handset or snap shut that person on the other end of the line. In good time (But not good enough given my foul mood) the cab arrived and I was soon en route to Miss Tweedle-Dee's humble abode. As soon as I arrived I hopped straight in the shower, warming my bones that had chilled in the weather. Walking out into the warmness of her home I noticed Miss Tweedle-Dee had brought out her guitar. Feeling more of an improvement now I had arrived at my final destination and knowing the tune she was strumming away to I joined in with the chorus and thus commenced our Valentine's night. The remainder was just as I had hoped for. Girly chit-chat, Youtube videos, takeaway food and a horror film. I think it was one of the best Valentine's Days I have ever had, regardless if Miss Tweedle-Dee pre-booked me over a year in advance. I hope maybe next year I can do the same - With or without a boyfriend!

Who knows what next year may bring. The next twelve-months will be an exciting journey I shall share with you all once more again. The highs, the lows. The Mr.'s and the Miss'. Maybe this time next year I shall with with someone, or maybe just the same old loon still partying as she enters her twenty-fourth year of life! Regardless I know I'll have a whale of a time (maybe because I was called one on a beach sometime! Sad face). This week I have a flat to fix-up, a house-warming to prepare for and a date with someone who shall be named before encountered - Mr. Minigolf!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Move, A Promotion And A Dating Dilemma

Hiya, 

So after last week's fiasco involving the ever-alluring Mr. Cheese, my life in other areas has well surpassed my expectations. 

Ripping myself from my bed sheets I realised horribly that it was a Thursday morning again and not a Friday as I had hoped for. Asking myself what I should wear today I threw on a skirt and shirt combo and headed out the door to my car share. The day itself ticked along nicely until lunch whereby I had planned a lunch-date with my Dad's girlfriend who works just round the corner from me. Almost instantly conversation turned to Mr. Cheese and his disappointing absence from my world. Spending nearly an hour consuming ourselves with men problems I needed to return to my office and so we left. Upon arrival at my desk everything seemed normal. As the time dragged on more people started returning from their own lunch breaks. I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed people gossipping and a slow buzz took over the accounting department as mouths were twitching with a hum of knowledge. Now a few weeks ago it was apparent that our Administrator would be going on maternity leave very shortly to have a bouncy baby boy (well I'm hoping that they don't test him on the bouncy front, pretty sure that would kill the little mite). The company had started interviews for her role and I decided I would apply. Only I was too late. By the time I got to my manager's office to talk to her, the vacancy had been filled. No worries though, I already had a job I loved and would apply for something else if and when it came up. 

Within a few days there was a new face in the office and someone new to share the banter. Nevertheless a fortnight later here I was, at my desks, my fellow workers getting worked up about something. All of a sudden a colleague appeared by my side. Nothing unusual. "Probably some question I could help with" I thought, although I was secretly shitting myself thinking maybe I had done something wrong and that was the end of the line for me! Quite the opposite really. After turning to address the slim-figured women I was asked if I wanted the position of Credit Control Administrator? Stunned I asked why as the position had already been filled. It was then I found out what everyone was nattering about. The lady whom had been taken on in favour of 'yours truly' had disappeared and it was thought that she had simply done a runner on her lunch break, never to return again. As a grin started splitting my face, I knew I had bagged myself that illusive permanent job I had been searching for. Well for a year at least. Over the coming days I was told that the company would match my salary and I would benefit from holiday pay, sick pay and the option to join a pension scheme. Now truth be told most women tend not to return after a baby but even if the mom-to-be does come back I will have been grateful for the experience and appreciative for the opportunities it has given me. Today was my first day shadowing and I now have a further fortnight to gain all knowledge before the labour ward calls on the young-parent. 

So that's the work life, now onto the lurve life! Since the separation from suave Mr. Cheese, I have found myself bombarded with suitors from every angle; Dating websites, apps and just generally meeting people. Just so happens that between moving house, socialising with friends, going out with work, unpacking and bagging myself a career I have also managed to finally squeeze in a date. Whom you may ask? That little fortuitous Mr. Rockclimber. Following a lengthy conversation consisting of messages, SnapChat's and the odd text over the past three-months we finally decided enough was enough and that we needed to meet each other. 

Wrapping up warm and making sure that the new place was clean and tidy I forced myself into the cold, nearly-midnight air of Bedfordshire. "What are you doing?" I thought to myself. Truth be told I didn't know. What I did know was that it was very cold and I was meeting a man who I had been talking to for the past twelve weeks in a pub a short walk from my new flat at a very late hour in the evening. Upon meeting we shared a hug and ventured into the warmth for a beer. Conversation of good sorts followed - Food, the weather, friends and some funny little anecdotes I have also shared with you lot. But I think it was safe to say that I had pretty much made up my mind as soon as we locked eyes. Whilst I yearn to move on from the indecisive Mr. Cheese I am unable to. I wanted so much for Mr. Rockclimber to be a welcome distraction and a new lease of life for my young, wild and lustful intentions. Regardless of this fact he did indeed stay over that night, purely and simply because he was unable to get back home until the following morning. To answer your burning question - Yes we did. Strangely it was everything that I would have asked from a bed-partner; Romantic, hard, rough and yet so unbelievably soft and gentle with his hands that I swooned under his touch. But nothing. Nothing at all. I wanted to feel something. But all this encounter do for me was make me realise that my lactose-intolerance is not cured by finding someone else. Sadly I feel that Mr. Rockclimber and I wont work out. 

In fact, I wonder if I ever will sometimes - Meet the right one that is. Life was so uncomplicated and smooth running with Mr. Cheese it hard to imagine him not in it any more. I wish so hard that I could be simple and just "go with the flow" (Maaaaan) but I can't. I'm a girl. A women. I like cuddles and snuggles and bubbles of the belly variety. Mr. Cheese and I had a love-story to rival Disney; But instead of skipping off happily-ever-after, I'm indulging myself in any possible activity to take my mind off him - Secretly hoping he'll be beneath my window one day.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Merry Ex-Mas!

Hi, 

So last week was a bit of a hilarious mess really but all in good humour as I am sure that now many of you will be wary of going to the spa for fear of Steam Room's with legs and those dreaded paper knickers. So far this week it has been quiet hard work. My partner on my account at work has recently taken ill bless him and I am now having to face some very big and very important meetings with my boss's boss to discuss our accounts in the coming days. If there is such a god, other than Google then can you please make sure that my colleague is fit an well so I don't have to flounder at the meeting tomorrow. That would be great thanks. Oh and whilst your there, going down a couple of dress sizes and up a cup size would be much appreciated! Besides stressing about my work as a financial lady I have been relatively relaxed about everything else. Since speaking to Mr. Cheese in depth about Christmas plans and being personally invited by his parents has prompted me to make a concrete plan. I plan to go with Mr. Cheese and his family up to the countryside of the North-West of England the weekend before Christmas and stay there up until the Eve whereby I shall hop on the train back home and spend the most important part of the Holidays.Christmas Eve as usual will be spent eating good food with good friends and maybe a few cheeky shots although I doubt it could beat last years escapades...

Christmas Eve 2012. This year so far I have gained a job, dealt with the difficult break-up from my beloved Prince Charming, recovered from another yet bout of Depression, gone on my first girls holiday, moved into my own place, turned twenty-one, stopped sleeping with my Ex, lost a job, moved back in with my Dad and his girlfriend, claimed benefits, got a new job and rekindled an old high-school romance. Such a busy, busy year. And yet here I am round a table in my local pub with my the Tweedles and a good friend. Miss Tweedle-Dumb has just passed her driving test and has bought a blue Vauxhall Corsa we have decided to call 'Blu Cantrell' and Miss Tweedle-Dee has got a new job working in the same company. 

I felt nervous. I knew that essentially I was in his playground. His territory. You see Mr. Workaholic could be anywhere in this modern and sleek tavern. Feeling anxious I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. As myself and my two best friends sat and chatted waiting for the final guest to arrive they asked how I would feel if I saw him. I brushed it off coolly with a shady answer and diverted the conversation swiftly. Finally our guest arrived, Miss Tweedle-Dee's Ex-Girlfriend whom she had recently befriended again after a brief spat. As we sat down Miss Tweedle-Dumb went to to the toilet whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex went to order food at the already buzzing bar. Coming back to the table their faces were ashen. They confirmed my worst fear. Mr. Workaholic was here with his sister in toe! After getting back from the little-girl's-room Miss Tweedle-Dumb confirmed the siting of not only my Ex and his sister, but also his mother and his mother's boyfriend. Trying not to panic I shrugged and simply said that we were at opposite ends of the pub and so it was fine. If several adults cannot be in the same room as each other after living together for nearly two years then I think that it's a little petulant. Nevertheless I stood from my chair to order my own food. After paying for my meal up front I noticed from the corner of my eye a tall, dark handsome man slouched across the sticky bar. No mistaking it. It was him. Mr. Workaholic!

Seating myself in good company talk soon turned to other things and just before dinner arrived I insisted they opened the presents I had saved so hard to buy them whilst not having a job. Although the excitement and joy were overshadowed by some bodies moving their half-eaten dinners to a table across from us. 'Much closer than the other side of the boozer' I thought to myself. Yep, that's right. All four of the Ex-Family had moved significantly closer to me and my friends. Getting agitated I added it to the things in the back of my head and ramped up the volume and actions. I opened my presents I had received and squealed in delight as I unwrapped the literature and nic-nac's from my Girls. Everyone was pleased and in a happy mood. As we ate food and drank more we chatted about the year that had gone and the year that was to come. I think it was safe to say it wasn't the best year of my life but I overcome some things I thought I would never be able to bounce back from and now I knew I could do anything. I could take over the world. Just as I was feeling invisible something Kryptonic arrived to dash my superpowers. It was the Ex-mother-in-law(ish). Everyone stopped eating. Jaws dropping open revealing half eaten potato and carrot. Shocked as was I we listened to her shpeal. Phrases like 'You look beautiful' and 'Oh how skinny you look, have you lost weight?' flew out of her mouth like pigeons and shat all over my parades. 

 As if the cringe-meter wasn't broken enough she then addressed my fellow dinner guests asking if they were all having a nice evening and looking forward to Christmas. Numbly they all nodded and replied quietly. As she left she said how good it was to see me and mentioned again how well I looked. Continuing our meal, myself and the girls felt very, very awkward and on-edge. Although I had a feeling that it was not the last. Finishing our meal Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I braved the fresh winter air for a cigarette and a chat about what had just happened. I felt awful for the fact that my friends had to endure my embarrassment with me and promised that we would try and make the best out of a bad situation. Walking back into the warm, bright restaurant come bar chain we soon noticed we had some new neighbours on the table adjacent to us. Yes. It had happened. Again.

As I took my seat at the head of the table so as to protect Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex from the onslaught that might follow I was approached again by said Mummy Workaholic. Again praising me for looking so good and well and loosing alot of weight since I last saw her nearly ten months ago. I felt like saying to Mr. Workaholic's interrupting mother that sometimes when people break-up with other people for no apparent reason after planning entire lives with each other and building foundations for the future sometimes you just loose your appetite for simply how sick they make you feel. After telling me of her plans to drink herself into oblivion with her cheating boyfriend, heinous son and bitchy daughter she left me and my friends to it. I don't know why she told me her plans for the night, nor the timings of these plan's either. I was never going back to her son ever again. He fucked it all up. Not me. Soon, after about an hour they all left to hit the pubs, clubs and bars of our small home-town, although I was swiftly off home to anticipate Santa's arrival on the morrow. But not before a quick death-stick and drink to settle ourselves. Whilst outside on a fag break with Miss Tweedle-Dumb we joked about when her Ex was turning up to the party. She laughed but she wasn't laughing when she returned to our table only to find the table once containing Mr. Workaholic and Company had since been replaced by her own Ex-Boyfriend and some friends I knew from college. 

You honestly couldn't make it up. At first there was one awkward moment and then there were three. I don't think any of us have laughed awkwardly so much in our lives. Still I knew then as I know now ready to publish that it would one day be a good story to tell. Here's hoping that this Christmas Eve won't be quite as eventful...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sister's Before Mister's

Heyy Guys,

And yet another roller coaster of a week draws to a close. And yet after all that, I have been able to bounce back faster than you could say 'windscreen'. I have a new job. Again. But not just that. If you look as to where this was written you can see that it was signed, sealed and delivered from my new bachelorette pad. I am so happy that it has finally got to this point and have been so busy unpacking and sorting everything out that I nearly forgot to write. Allow me to explain my week ...

So after being a bit down in the dumps about having to quit my last job just purely on the distance I thought that my dream of finally moving in was slipping through my fingers again. Then late Wednesday afternoon I went into some local recruitment agencies and spoke to them, only to walk out of one of their offices having landed a customer service role at a windscreen replacement company just outside of Bedford town centre. Now granted it is only a temporary contract for a couple of months and so is nothing permanent by a long shot, but there is always the chance they could take me on permanently. Hopefully they will so I can stop searching for job's as it is driving me crazy just looking at pages and pages of jobs that have probably been advertised for weeks and have possibly already been filled. If not then there is always something on offer. And I do have a habit of bouncing back fast ... As I am sure you are well aware!

As for my new flat well that was a bit of a surprise. Since my Dad and his girlfriend are too hung up on their own lives and personal hobbies to help me move out (despite wanting me to move out since last year and not wholly loving the fact I was living with them in the first place) I decided to get my Uncle to help move me. And so on Saturday (the only date my Uncle could do to move me) we bundled up all my belongings in his work's van and headed to my new home! Packing and unpacking was a mission and a half though, and I don't think many people will be visiting often due to the fact it has no lifts and I'm on the third floor up four flights of stairs. I like it though. It's cosy and once I get everything sorted out properly then it will be perfect!

No word of warning on the old 'Luuurve' front yet, but I have continued online dating and am enjoying the attention from prospective males; even if they are fat, balding and are sitting at a computer having a lonely handshake with ones self. OK, well maybe not that extreme, but I love the idea that I could one day be talking to someone that will play an extra special part in my life. I haven't met any yet. Although I do plan to have a date with a very nice young man whom enjoys the company of quirky girls who enjoy laughing and chatting about nonsense but also have a fondness for dairy products, cheese included. We both seem to have hit it off pretty well and I enjoy talking to him so much so that we have arranged a 'Date' for this coming Sunday! Eeek! Scary date! I mean it's not like I am terrified of the idea. Its just scary meeting someone that theoretically you know a little of and that you have spoken online to, but it is another to meet in person and spend time together outside of cyberspace. I think that maybe this is just first-timer's nerves (Naughty!), what with being the first time I have met someone from an online dating site in the flesh - It's bound to be nerve shredding. I wonder what I shall wear? Hmmm ...

In other news, I have a big weekend planned. Along with my date on Sunday with the guy I met online, I am celebrating moving in with my good pal Miss Chocolate on Friday night and then following that up with something special for Saturday's twilight hours. I have heard that this Saturday, there will be a new show in the city of London. Starring yours truly. Ha ha. The dating show I was on a couple of months ago are having the Wrap Party in the bright lights of London. Cinderella shall go to the ball - Along with her trusty partner in crime; Miss Tweedle-Dumb!

I am looking forward to it and I know it's going to be a fun night out. Bit worried though, the last time I went on a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I met a boy whom we all know as that prick. Mr Workaholic! Then again, it might not all be bad. Miss Tweedle-Dumb could be my lucky charm in finding love. I could meet a sweetheart from across the bar and we would fall in love instantly with each other. He would worship me as a fat kid worships cake and we would get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Or I could be the last hope in hell of that sweaty nerd getting laid, lurking over there in the corner of a dark, smokey club at three in the morning like a weirdo. Yep, that is probably the story of Saturday night for you. Either that or the usual happens where Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself are dropped to our hotel by a cab and end up eating chicken until we pass out from alcohol. Still Miss Tweedle-Dee is not that bad. She can be very, very funny sometimes. Both her and Miss Tweedle-Dee can be very entertaining sometimes. Besides whats that saying. Sister's before Mister's ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

We Lost the Sheep ...

Good evening,
 
And what a good evening it is. Nearly a fortnight of beautiful weather here in the UK and hopefully it stays like that. I love how even though I love being British, somehow talking about the weather make me feel much more worthy of such a title. Over the weekend it got up to over thirty-degrees which is hotter than it was on holiday in Majorca. Anyway, enough about the weather, more about my week!
 
As with most week's I slogged it out at work just so I could make it to the weekend. And what a weekend it was. Reminded me of the good old days when your still paying for your drunken mistakes and dodgy dancing come Tuesday - Of which 'yes' I am still recovering. Now it was just meant to be some casual drinks round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house to celebrate her father's birthday but before we knew what had hit us gone was the relaxing cider on the patio sofa's and there we were on the lawn's doing shots of vodka. How on earth I was able to drink that stuff neat when I was fourteen in the park with the younger Tweedle's beats me. Its almost like drinking bleach, even when it is the premium brands. As the night progressed and the sun began to go to bed the night really started to come alive. Laughing and sharing stories began and before we knew it we had all booked a cab into the local town to hit up some pubs and clubs. As the taxi arrived outside the pub Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I hopped out followed by the girlfriends of Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers. A proper girls night out. Heading straight to the bar we all got some drinks in and started to dance with me acting as main cock-blocker of the night I knew it was going to be good fun.
 
After a couple of songs and once our bottles were empty we headed to the next bar along the High Street and again, up to the bar we went. Only as we walked in I made eye contact with Mr. Coffee's brother! Bit awkward given the last time we spoke he had just found out that Mr. Coffee and I had christened his bed for him. Not thinking any more of it I hit the dance floor with the girls whilst the Tweedle's grabbed some drinks. Sweating like a fat kid in a cake shop I knew I needed to use the little girls room and so made my way through the crowds to the bathrooms. A few minute later Miss Tweedle-Dee walks in and with a grin on her face says I have to come with her. Panicking that maybe she had found Mr. Coffee and was hoping I was going to have it out with him on the dance floor I obliged. She seemed happy though. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But as she lead me by the hand we came to the warm, muggy air outside the front of the pub. It was only now that I saw the two skinny ladies perched onto a wall, holding onto each other as they tried not to fall into the flower beds behind the wall. They had been chucked out and as a result Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were also out. Sighing we put our heads together to see what we would do next, but before we even had a chance to think properly we were told by the paralytic-drunkards that we should continue our night of mayhem. And so we headed back to the first pub we went into carry-on with the night.
 
A few hours in and I fancied some air and a cigarette so went outside. I could still see the rest of them, partying away without a care in the world. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee seemed to be enjoying herself, the one person who disagreed with our impromptu night on the tiles. Moments later I was joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who also sparked up. I mentioned that someone should go back to the girlfriends and keep an eye on them, but we could see them from where we were sitting outside so it would be fine for the time being. That was until I went back in to find them. They were no-where to be found. The bar, toilets, smoking area, even the dance floor was free from their presence. Worried I went back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to see if they were there. The girls weren't there. Worried the Tweedles and I split up doing a wrecky one last time but still nothing. We had all there identification and money as well as their mobiles so they cant have gone far. Eventually after an hour of looking round the town we decided to head home and tell Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers that we had lost their beloved girlfriends. Thankfully though by the time we reached Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the girlfriend's had been found to have made their own ways home. Realising it was too late to get a train home, Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me her bedroom floor, and whilst cramped it was gratefully appreciated more than an three-hour wait on a cold bench at the station waiting for a train that may never come.

Also this week, after searching for both an abode and affection, I seemed to have stumbled across both. Wait around for ages and then two come along at the same time, eh? Now I know your dying to know about the 'Mr.' but its super earlier days so I shall not disclose anything yet. In terms of my new bachelor pad, I sent off my application forms and paperwork today and so should hear back pretty soon as to when I can move in, hopefully before the month is out.

It is a gorgeous, old Victorian property that is huge. It used to be an old boarding house for kids from the local towns and villages attending school in the town centre of Bedford so has buckets of character and maybe even a sneaky ghost or two? My flat is on the top floor and has a slanted roof, big sash windows that look out onto the back of the property, and enough room to park a plane. My own little home sweet home. I am so excited to move in I struggle sometimes to stay in one place at a time without buzzing about the place. I cant explain it. The feeling that I get when I know something is forthcoming as big as this just fills me with joy. I can tell I am going to be very happy there! I can finally do what I like, when I like and how I like it because I wont have to answer to anyone. I can eat chocolate and crisps for dinner. I can roll out of bed when I want to on a Sunday. Hell, I can even drink milk from the carton again and run around naked - Although I wouldn't want to make the neighbours sick, so maybe I shall keep my clothes on.
 
So fingers crossed that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb will come visit me in my new home, maybe then we can have a crazy night out on the town ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Another Bank Holiday Survived ...

Hi,
 
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
 
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
 
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
 
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
 
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.

With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.

With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx

Lights, Camera, Action!

Hello All,
 
Bloggers Note: This post has been changed as per Wednesday 15th May 2013 as a result of some advice given to me regarding
                           subject matter. Don't worry I am sure I will update your more at a later date :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

After an explosive edition last week with views of Trials and Tribulations (of a 20-Something) rocketing to over a thousand last week I would again like to say a big thank-you and that it is very uplifting to come home from a hard days work to see that people still care, so thanks guys!
 
Now, where do I begin on the week I have just had? It started normally, and included an evening sifting through my e-mails deciphering crap from keep. I came across an e-mail from a website looking for people to join in with a new show. After pondering on it for a few days and a deep conversation with Mom I decided to just apply. Attaching some photos and clicking send I never thought it would go very far. Thursday evening after going swimming with Miss Chocolate and as we were about to go into my local for something to eat, I get a call. I answer. Its the production company asking me some questions regarding my application. Sitting in the car while it poured with rain outside I answered honestly and truthfully to the questions asked of my life in general. Ten minutes later, the young female voice asked if I was free Saturday afternoon to come down to London for a casting. And so a plan was set in place that I would go to the city for a casting that following weekend. Munching down on dinner Miss Chocolate and I giggle and chatted about what it would be like and weather anything would every come of it at all.
 
Saturday rolled around as soon as anything and as I started to prepare for my journey I had a call from Miss Tweedle-Dee, stating that she was going with me and to meet her at the station. Once I was ready I blagged a lift with a concerned father to the train station and waiting in the car until the train came, explaining to my Dad that everything would be OK and I would keep safe and all the rest of reassuring you have to do when your off to the Capital. Stepping out into the cold and wet from the car was not pleasant and I soon realised that the hours I had spent on my hair, prettying it, was a waste of time. Meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dee we headed to the big lights of London and headed straight to the infamous Oxford Street to purchase some bargain buys before hopping on the tube again. Coming out of London's St. Pancreas/Kings Cross Station Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for cover as we unsuccessfully dodged the wet weather. Wisely we agreed to split up and that I would go to the casting whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee waiting in a nearby coffee shop. As I started to walk down the long city street I began to realised that this might not be such a good idea. I was soaked right through, my wet, pink shirt clung to my body, my hair was a mess and my make-up made me look like a soggy panda. Was this really going to go anywhere? They would take one look at me and just say "Go away, you are ridiculous!" Although as I thought this I still continued walking and it wasn't before long that I could see the building in question I needed to be.
 
Walking into the building I was greeted by a young receptionist and after a brief conversion involving a short, blonde, middle-aged women we were directed to the bathrooms to freshen up. Upon arrival at said bathroom I noticed that the hair I had spent the previous evening and this morning trying to perfect my locks was all in vain - This mop was going up in a chic, messy bun. The make-up was also adjusted before tackling the sodden blouse. Seeing that the hand dryer was a modern, stick-your-hands-in-and-blow-off-your-skin kind of machine made me pause for a second. How would I dry my shirt? The only way I knew how to I thought. Sweeping my arms through, bingo-wings included I dried my sleeves well. Now it was for the rest. As I squatted in front of this contraption pulling my shirt inside and waving frantically to keep the blowers going I wondered how silly I looked to the middle-aged, blonde lady in the bathroom with me. Shyly she struck up conversation and I could tell instantly she was a nervous wreck. Try to put her at ease I calmed her thoughts that the room was going to be filled with skinny, blonde, busty women looking for love. On the contrary I was thinking that the room would be stuffed with older females, looking for someone they (and their ten cats) can spend the rest of their days with. Well we didn't have long to wait as we walked into an office where we were given some forms to fill out. Trying to make small talk we discussed our lives previous and I discovered that she too came from the Home Counties surrounding London, fancied members of a well-known boy band and was previously married but in her words 'divorced that good for nothing lay-about'.
 
As I was scribbling down my details and reading through the terms and conditions a tall, handsome man walked in with brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Just my type of man. Only thing is he was wearing a blue and white checked shirt, the kind that Mr. Workaholic used to wear to work. Great I thought. I'm now about to be interviewed by my Ex's Doppelganger! Walking into the lift he asked if I had ever done anything like this before as I was very calm and relaxed compared to others he had seen throughout the day. I said how I was used to camera's and the 'acting/fliming' environment as I studied media production and theory at college. As the lift reached the its destination he explained the process of the next few moments. Sitting down I started to tell my story. All of the questions were similar to the application and the phone call I had on Thursday evening so nothing to nerve-shattering. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome asked about my parents and their relationship. Now this was a difficult one to try and skirt around. If you hadn't already known, my parents split when I was just seventeen and one day but the legal proceedings have only just been sorted out. When I say 'Parents' now (in my blog) I refer then to my Dad and his partner. My mother? Ahh, see that is another one. A whole different story in a whole different library! The long and the short of it was that I wanted to maintain a relationship with my father after he was asked to leave the family home and this was something that my mother detested; so much so after a couple of months she chucked me out on the streets and told me to go live with my Father which was impossible since he was living at my grandparents. Luckily my uncle took me in until I moved in by myself, but I haven't spoken to my mother properly since. I call Dad's partner Mom just to make things easier to understand, although I would say it to her face.

I explained my life as it is and described some of the things I enjoy doing and had been through in my 20-something years of being on this earth. I skimmed over the 'thing' I had with Mr. Coffee as in all honesty it wasn't much to brag about. But when it came to talking bout Mr.Workaholic, suddenly I became alone in the room. Just me. And as I opened up about the day Mr.Workaholic came home to tell me he no longer wanted to be with me. It was so raw and fresh at the same time that I felt naked and exposed for the first time in many months. Talking about it in such a bare way made it all seem so real and like it had only happened yesterday. I didn't cry, but it could have easily turned into that if I had carried on. The subject of children and the white picket fence came up and I admitted that I wanted it all, just not right now. I said how I wanted to have fun first and experience life before settling down. After calling it a wrap, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome and his female colleague remarked on how mature and wise I was for my age and how such a young, vibrant, bubbly person can have endured so much in such a short amount of time. I knew that they weren't just talking of relationships but also the fact that my own mother threw me out at just seventeen. I was used to it though, everyone seems to feel sorry for me, I don't know why?

Taking the trusty lift downstairs again and walking back to the office, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome said again how cool and collected I was and made clear the next steps in the process. Filling out yet more paperwork and reading a heavy contract I listened to the other women chattering on about lives outside of this building. Most of them I could tell were from London just by their accent and how they spoke. 'Ive been travelling for nine years around Romanian, Russia, France and the Middle East' and 'I went there on my gap year actually' were a few of the phrases throw around by the socialites whilst I tried to read through the extensive pages of boring contract. Finally signing and handing back my papers I waited in the room of city dwellers and there I listened more to a middle-aged women discussing how her boisterous and confident attitude didn't bode well with men and thus the lack of relationships. Once I was cleared to go I thought nothing more of heading straight out the door and back to the coffee shop where Miss Tweedle-Dee was waiting for me.

Skipping down the wet high street I savoured the sights of the city; the tall buildings, grey pavements and loud noises made me grateful of my quiet suburbia back home with Mom and Dad. Arriving at the coffee shop I found a rather tired Miss Tweedle-Dee watching TV on her smart-phone and texting friends. "Before you start, if you want a drink you should get one now" she said. After dithering for a few seconds I went to get something to drink. As I approached the back of the queue I saw a friendly face. Is that who I think it is? It was! It was two very famous members of a English boy-band whose name sounds like McSky. I was very happy and thought about asking for a photo but figured since one of them had their hood up indoors and they were dressed casually that they were attempting an incognito snack break. After rushing back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and announcing my findings of their order I raced back to gawp at them some more. Once they had left I placed my order and once seated safely at my table with Miss Tweedle-Dee beside me I told my tale.

After slurping down our beverages Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed back to the tubes for some last minute shopping and sightseeing, winding up at Marble Arch next to Hyde Park for some dinner. I enjoyed our little trip and whilst nothing may never come of the casting specifically, it was a nice experience and one I can share with you all. Maybe this is a step in the right direction for me as far as dating goes? Mind you I better not be settling down too soon I have mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic weekend away coming up soon so hold on tight for some more prowling nights out.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx