School is far from out for Summer

Afternoon All, 

As we approach our 11th week in lockdown I am drained. I am done with all of this pussyfooting around, queueing for this and queueing for that. I am done with it all. Not only am I exhausted but I still feel burnt out and whilst have been furloughed or signed off sick (whichever it may be), the last few weeks had been mentally taxing and taking a toll on me workwise.  

I suppose you could say I am at the end of my tether with it. It is all just so pointless. Figures from the BBC this evening state that whilst the confirmed new cases of coronavirus in the UK stand at over a quarter of a million, the death toll has significantly dropped to just 111 today alone (Monday 01 June 2020), down ten on last week. And I know what you are thinking, Ten doesn't seem like a lot to drop by in a week, but it is still a drop as we have not yet experienced an unsettlingly high spike in deaths or new cases as yet. This being said, however, Boris Johnson has yet to make an announcement of further openings. 

Today saw the first few schools open since lockdown began back in March. The BBC reported today that Headteachers are reporting "highly variable" levels of attendance, ranging from 40% to 70%, as primary schools in England bring back more pupils. The article explained the procedure in which the government has deemed it safe for children in Reception (4-5 year olds), Years 1 (5-6 year olds) and Years 6 (10-11 year olds) to be allowed back to school as some of the first groups able to return. But this isn't the case for all children as during the lockdown there have been some schools which have remained open throughout the coronavirus restrictions for the children of key workers and vulnerable children. 

It seems reading through the article further, that locally it appears to be a bit of a mixed bag, with not all schools either open or bringing back pupils as outlined in the government's plans with some local authorities not yet bringing back more pupils due to limited space, training and also that like the rest of us, not all staff are available due to sickness or shielding. But I can sympathise with parents and carers. I am not sure, had the shoe been on the other foot, I would be rushing to send my kids back into an environment which I could not guarantee was 100% safe. The information provided seems obscure and the contradictory information is frustrating - I am allowed to take my child to school and should be encouraged for doing so, however, I am not allowed to take them to get their hair cut or buy new school shoes? It just seems absurd, and that is before you look at the new rules children are forced to follow. 

One post on Facebook from a Headteacher somewhere up further North than Bedfordshire detailed outlines for all desks to be front-facing, dedicated circles or squares in the playground in which to play in alone and pupils only allowed a set time for toilet breaks and no others in-between, despite some of them being only barely out of nappie (although that is another blog post entirely) which would be really difficult for a little person to do. When you got to go, you got to go. 

Also within this letter to parents, the school stated that no lunchboxes, bags or stationery can be brought into school and that all uniforms or clothes must be washed every night to avoid contamination. But the most heartbreaking thing I read (other than the fact that all plush toys and soft furnishing had been band from classrooms) that should a child fall over and hurt themselves, have a toilet accident or be physically sick on themselves then they will be instructed, from afar and by a member of staff, on how to clean themselves up and how to dress a cut or graze.  

If that cannot be achieved then a parent will have to be called, seemingly defeating the whole "get back to work" thing the government has been banging on about all this time. Just disgraceful and honestly this will be harming children more than staying at home. I mean I don't want to downgrade what early-years teachers do as it is an incredible job, but surely this stuff can be taught to kids by their parents and avoid all of this trauma and upset. Besides, what kids will learn now in the next six-weeks weeks will all be long forgotten come September when schools resume properly (fingers crossed). 

I don't know, to me it makes no sense. Sure send back the over-12's. They have SAT's (another thing I don't agree with) and teens who sit exams next year for GCSE and A-Levels, but not little ones. They barely know personal space with mom and dad let alone with their little friend they haven't seen in not just weeks but maybe even months. Teens and Pre-Teens can social distance, something I know for a fact that a toddler will struggle with, not to mention trying to pull themselves together enough to put a plaster on it when all they really want is a cuddle and to be told it is all going to be alright, although right now I think we all need a bit of that. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Opportunities are usually disguised as hard work so most people don't recognise them

Hello, 

I knew that this week would be a strange one, but I never thought that life would be as different now as it was only a few mere weeks ago. The last few weeks have been strange to say the least, especially working from home which in the beginning was odd, and yet now seems more settled and I kinda have a routine. Boris (Johnson, our Prime Minister, and secret weird crush of mine) has yet to grace us with any more televised statements from Downing Street. This being said, however, his strict curb on life in the UK to tackle the spread of COVID-19 Coronavirus have certainly shaken things up but as the UK death toll has peaked so far at 1,408 I am left questioning what happens in future weeks. 

Simply put, people have not listened, myself maybe being one of them. Like naughty toddlers, people did not heed advice from Government to stay at home (except for shopping for basic necessities, once-daily exercise, attending to any medical need or travelling to and from essential work). And so, as a necessary precaution in order to protect everyone, announcements were made that all shops selling non-essential goods such as clothing and electronics are being told to shut and gatherings in public of more than two people who do not live together are to be prohibited. The pubs, clubs, restaurants, bars and cafes are all closed and with nothing else left to do but to sit indoors and hope that this all comes to an end sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, some people still didn't quite get the memo as Parks and open spaces still became flooded on the weekend we BBQ-ers, sun-bathers and picnics. So much so that UK police have been forced to use their powers to enforce them, including fines and dispersing gatherings. Thankfully living out in't countryside allows us a little more freedom than some of the bigger towns and cities. 

Truthfully, in the beginning, I didn't take this whole thing seriously enough, still don't to an extent. Although that doesn't stop my appreciation for those doing a good job in order to keep everything in the country ticking along nicely until this whole thing blows over. But the last couple of days since Bo-Jo's address to the nation like something from 1945, has really made me question my own situation, I suppose rather selfishly. Early last week, on Tuesday 17 March, moneysavingexpert.com explained easily how banks had agreed with the Chancellor that they will offer 'forbearance' (tolerance and help) on mortgages. This means they all should offer those struggling a three-month 'holiday', allowing customers a temporary break from having to make mortgage payments during this time. Something which I think will help us with some of the more recent developments to do with mine and Mr Warehouse's work situation. 

For us, keeping up with bills and putting food on the table was never really a challenge, and might not be, but we are conscious about the ever-growing distance between us and that crack that seems to loom more and more as the days pass. Realistically having a forbearance on our mortgage at least will help a little, although I am hoping some of our other financial products such as car finance, credit cards and loans can catch up with the mortgage companies soon. It should help and maybe get us out of what could have been a very tight hole in the next few weeks and months, although after spending four-and-a-half hours on hold to our mortgage company last Thursday and then a further 3-hours the following Friday morning I was finally able to speak with someone. Feeling embarrassed I mumbled my way through the phone call with a lovely woman who explained that there was nothing to be embarrassed by and that everyone is in the same boat and to not worry or panic. And so, for the next three months, we won't pay anything, then when our mortgage repayments resume, the total we owe would be spread over the following remain years on our term, relatively speaking we will see a very small uplift in future payments.

Several days later, the UK Government announced a continuity of the COVID-19 Coronavirus package to help people affected by the pandemic which including a sweeping pledge to pay 80% of employees' wages if they are not working due to illness or to cover that of 'retained' employees, being those who would otherwise have been laid off due to the knock-on effects of the coronavirus pandemic. I mentioned last week that, hopefully, this will help many people who would have otherwise lost their jobs. However, it would seem as though I may be benefiting from this exact hand out ... 

iNews.co.uk explains that Furloughed workers are those whose employers cannot cover staff costs due to the COVID-19 Coronavirus, and as such, they have been asked to stop working, but have not been made redundant. The website continues that "under the Coronavirus Job Retention Scheme, all employers in the UK will be able to access support to continue paying part of employees’ salaries who would otherwise have been laid off during the ongoing health crisis." This means that whilst the employee is not necessarily working, the employee still has all the same rights as they did previously including Statutory Sick Pay (SSP) entitlement, maternity rights, other parental rights, rights against unfair dismissal and to redundancy payments. This also allows employees to access all company benefits such as health care, health insurances and even pensions. Obviously, there is a limit to the amount paid will be capped at a maximum of £2,500 per month / per employee (nowhere near my salary - Sadface), and the Government is saying that all is to be issued through grants which can be paid out to any employer and “before the end of April” with wages will be paid backdated to 1st March 2020.  

As it stands, I have yet to hear back on anything solid or any contractual changes that will ultimately need to be put in place before such a big rollout. I will hopefully find out the final results in the coming days, but here's hoping I can continue to work in whatever capacity that may be - Full Time, Part Time, Half Days, Full Days, Different departments - who cares! As long as I am doing something, my bit if you will, then I will be happy. Besides with no kids, childcare issues at nil, twenty-minutes drive from the office and having never taken ill since working for the company I would like to hope I would be a good candidate to keep the well-oiled machine going. I suppose only time will tell, and here's hoping that it will tell all soon. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Implant not Impregnate!

Heyy, 

Sitting in the surgery doctors waiting room to say I was nervous was an understatement. I was anxiously tapping my foot on the floor as I answered questions about my sexual health. Have I ever been paid for sex? Have I ever been forced into sex? Have I ever had abusive sex? Some of the detailed questions were strange, but I suppose they have to ask them as nurses in order to safeguard, both as an arse-covering exercise and to flag up any would-be problems or concerns. And so here I was for my fourth implant exchange. 

Looking on the NHS website, Nexplanon, otherwise known as the contraceptive implant is a small flexible plastic rod that looks a little like a match stick. It is placed under the skin in your upper arm by a doctor or nurse and releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream to prevent pregnancy. Lasting for 3 years, it is more than 99% effective and can be useful for women who can't use contraception that contains oestrogen.

The science-y part states that the implant steadily releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream, which prevents the release of an egg each month AKA your period.  It also thickens the cervical mucus, which makes it more difficult for sperm to move through the cervix, and thins the lining of the womb so a fertilised egg is less likely to implant itself and cause that dreaded pregnancy! 

The NHS website also states that you can have the implant put in at any time during your menstrual cycle, as long as you're not pregnant. If the implant is fitted during the first 5 days of your menstrual cycle, you will be immediately protected against becoming pregnant, however, if it's fitted on any other day of your menstrual cycle, you'll need to use additional contraception (such as condoms) for 7 days, although if you ask the sexual health nurse or doctor they will usually provide you with as many as you need in a nice little discreet packet, almost like a goody bag or sticker like from the Dentist. 

Some of the reasons to choose the implant over other forms of contraception are that once the implant is in place, you don't have to think about it again for 3 years and is very useful for women who find it difficult to remember to take a pill at the same time every day like me. Obviously, the implant can be taken out if you have side effects which could include periods may become irregular, lighter, heavier or longer but once removed your natural fertility will return very quickly. As soon as that implant has been removed, you'll no longer be protected against pregnancy. You can also use this method until you reach the menopause when a woman's monthly periods stop naturally.

Another common side effect is what I have most of the time which is called amenorrhoea when your periods stop altogether. It's not harmful, but you may want to consider this before deciding to have an implant if unlike me you prefer Aunt Urma staying more regularly. I think this, along with the fact I am incredibly forgetful and blase about the small stuff in life, means this is perfect and I only really need to think about it when I am having it exchanged and replaced. 

I mean obviously, it goes without saying that some medicines can make the implant less effective and that it won't work or protect against sexually transmitted infections (STIs), so you may need to use condoms as well if you are not familiar with your bed-fellow. I think I found it especially useful when I was dating (although this feels like many, many moons ago now) as I was not only using condoms but also relying on my implant too as a sort of double barrier, just in case the condom split or came off. 

To have it removed as I have this evening is simple as well and mostly pain-free. Starting with a local anaesthetic to numb the area on the inside of your upper arm, the implant is then inserted under your skin (mine was after the doctor made a tiny cut in my skin and gently pulled the implant out). It only takes a few minutes to put in and feels like having an injection so you won’t be in need of any stitches afterwards. 

As I type to you all tonight I have been through this very quick and simple procedure several times over and, like me, when it's first put in you may feel some bruising, tenderness or swelling around the implant. My arm is killing me right now, mainly because the nurse took it out and nearly forgot to put me a new one back in, by which point the general anaesthetic had nearly worn off so inserting that little stick felt like pumping molten chilli sauce into my arm. But I am now protected, at least in part from Mr Warehouse's super sperm. His whole family seem to be able to procreate at a somewhat incredible level I don't think I have ever encountered before. 

Don't get me wrong, as the day approached and even this afternoon as I thought more and more about it I know that this will be the last time I will have it going in as I will not be finishing the full term until September 2022. If Mr Warehouse had it his way we would have had children back when we met, aged twenty-two and me at twenty-three. I, however, prefer the more planned and thought out route, choosing to get life to a more stable place, with a house and well-formed relationship to steady the unpredictability of a child. And to think that the next time I lay down on that bed, fist punching the air will be when I have made the decision to breed and make more little me's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

To invite the Children or not to invite the Children?

Hey, 

"Save The Dates" still on hold (I know, I know) Mr Warehouse have been making other plans and desperately trying to negotiate that guest list down. As described in the post a few months ago "The Gluttonous Guest List", our original rough number of about 65-70 for day guests is creeping up and up and the majority of our wedding party was more "Warehouse=family-heavy". With our venue, a stunning village hall in Stagsden, nestled away in the heart of the Bedfordshire countryside, its pretty hall and ideallic gravelled garden I am sure will be plenty big enough for our guests. Although more recently, cutting down our wedding guest list is like Hercules battling Hydra – cut one person and two more seem to grow in their place.

However, with mine and Mr Warehouses most recent look at the serious swelling of our guests and that with the addition of kids, cousins, cousins kids and every man and his dog it is easy to see how things have quickly got out of control. Seeking out some advice online, I have yet again stumbled upon the website Bridebook.co.uk - Pretty much a one-stop-shop on all things wedding and getting married. Some advice they have on guest list has been really helpful such as cutting out children from the wedding party, for part or even the whole day! "This is a dilemma lots of brides and grooms struggle to settle within themselves, never mind with each other. But you’re not a bad person for requesting this – lots of couples do. Not only does it cut costs and numbers but it gives the parents a night off to enjoy themselves too if they so wish" Bridebook.co.uk says. Some helpful advice we have known about for a while. Mr Warehouse and I tried to broach this subject a few times however it always ended in disagreement as there are far too many children. 

I suppose I sort of just thought that family is family and whilst I hate not being able to put mom, dad and kids, heck even the family hound on the invite it is something that we simply cannot afford. If we just work with the adults here, that is everyone over the age of 10/12 (with a few exceptions of the close family members) the numbers come to about 85-90. Introduce all those cherubs and darlings and you have a wedding party of well over a hundred. No problem and all fun and games until you realise these people need to eat and the cost of that is already a bone of contention as the "W" seems to increase the price several times over! 

I mean we could always Billy bullshit an excuse, saying that we were not allowed to have any children at the venue, however, I very much doubt that this would have been the case since the Warehouses are very accustomed to the church we are going to be wed in. Instead, we have decided to be totally honest and upfront about our plans for our big day and have asked all of those family members that have children if they would mind us just inviting mom and dad. I was surprised (although I am not sure as to why) that people have been totally OK about it all, some of them relieved they can leave the kiddi-winks at home or with a babysitter and enjoy the evening letting their hair down. Truth be told they are all understanding that weddings can be and are expensive and so as much as we would love to invite all the children of our friends and family, it is only possible to accommodate the children of close family, mainly down to cost. 

After reaching out I was glad and relieved at how many people had said that it was our special day and whatever we wanted they would accept. If it was children then great or no children still great. I was pleased with the relaxed attitude and feelings everyone replied with and truth be told good make me feel a little silly for sweating so much over it all. So does that mean that Mr Warehouse and I will be sending out our "Save The Dates" this weekend? Well maybe not as we have a few things planned and in the pipeline for home renovations and summer fun, however, I am sure that once we do get round to it in the next couple of months we will have a much better idea on numbers and therefore invites, favours and catering will all be much, much easier. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Having children is like having a blender with no lid!

Heyy, 

A week on since the sunburn incident, I would say I have fully recovered and my face is now back to normal, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Annoying really as we could have really enjoyed our last few days of holiday in  Malaga and our trip to Gibraltar, not to mention not cancelling the multitude of hair appointments, doctors appointments, counselling sessions or other things I had planned for that weekend we returned. It is nice now to be enjoying the summer sunshine and fine English weather. 

Enjoying a garden party this weekend made me think more than ever about not only our impending wedding, less than a year and 3 months away now but also that of children. A family BBQ held in honour of my future nephew's birthday, I was surrounded by all ages, from 9-weeks to 90! In amongst them were a few familiar faces, many of which had stopped asking now about babies and instead were asking about the wedding, thank fuck. 

But as I poured myself another glass of Magical Mystical unicorn gin, infused with the flavour marshmallows and candy-floss, sparkling and shining as it glittered in the sunlight, Mr Warehouse found me and questioned why my portion size kept growing. Laughing it off we chatted in the kitchen for a moment away from the madness of bouncy castles and kids. 
"Doesn't this make you broody?" he asked coyly suggesting a family one day. It got me thinking again about what life would be like. I think about it more and more I suppose as I get older. Moreso in different situations such as drink-fuelled weekend parties and holidays in the sun where your face turns into a pork scratching?! These are the irresponsible antics I would have to give up, not to mention practically starving myself and the deprivation that will come with pregnancy. 

All the good things in life and all the foods I love are off limits; Alcohol, Blue Cheese, Smoked Salmon, running Eggs, Rare steak, Carpaccio, Prawns, and did I say alcohol just to mention a few! I may as well eat baby food myself. At least though by the end of it all I will not only have a bundle of "joy" but also an excuse for those stretch marks other than enjoying the odd KFC too much. 

A recent article on the Relate website goes through some of the thought-processes of starting a family. As with most people, the thought of starting up a family brings me out in a whole range of emotions from excitement and happiness through to total anxiety and fear, borderline terror!  I, like many other twenty-somethings my age, imagine creating a happy, safe home for my children, giving them the childhood I had and the one I had wished for. This being said I agree with the websites opening statement. I am incredibly nervous about the idea of bringing a new life into this world - I can barely raise myself let alone thing about raising a child. Relate go on to explain that "Having a child is an experience that brings into sharp focus your core life beliefs, the values that you inherited from your childhood, your relationship with your parents, your hopes and dreams – and your anxieties." I now know that feeling like there's a whole host of different feelings are jostling for attention in your head is entirely normal. After all, it’s a big decision!  

Obviously, I and Mr Warehouse are in a stable relationship so realistically it could work and should the worst-case scenario happen and I fell pregnant then we would just "deal with it" so as to speak, going with the flow and bring our child up outside of wedlock. Whilst it would not be the way things were meant to be in my head, I would still love that child nevertheless. I would like to be married first, more for the commitment to me as I would feel that if you can commit to me with no real permanent ties or links then you are an appropriate person who I could bring up a child with, especially when I already have major issues with commitment and abandonment already. 

It goes without saying that financially speaking, kids are costly. Having a baby is an expensive business and I only know this from the few trips I have had wandering around the children's section with friends or family searching for baby grows and muslin cloths. Relate make valid points saying "It’s important you make sure you're going to be able to afford all of the things you’d need to raise a child. This includes things like good, clothes and childcare – but may also need to take into account the expense of moving into a bigger property too".

All in all, I think that one day I would like children and my worries of not being an adequate mom have got better, but I doubt if they will ever disappear entirely. That being said though I know I am in good hands as Mr Warehouse's parental background is also littered with unhappy memories and unpleasantries. I know that my fiance is very child-friendly, whereas I may have a little bit of learning to do. Plenty of time before that though ... Chin Chin!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Doggo Dreams

Hello All, 

Once again after a stressful and hectic week at work, I come home and relax my Friday night away only to be awoken on Saturday morning at 6.20am. Listening to my new addition cry and whine downstairs I knew there was only one thing for it. The puppy trauma through bedtime routines and trying to keep our little Frankenstein happy in his own company is still an almighty issue. I suppose naively I thought that our issue would be toilet training or yapping and barking, and whilst the latter is an issue, it is rarely present. Unless of course, you leave him alone for an eighth of a second. 

Mind you I have never had a puppy. I remember as a child begging and pleading my parents to buy me a puppy. In fact, I am pretty sure that I even settled for a dog as I got a little older but every year sure is to be sure there would be a canine companion at the top of my birthday and Christmas list. I longed for one so bad that eventually, my parents gave in. 

We called her Trixie and she was a chocolate Labrador. Looking back I am not entirely sure how old she was when we got her but I know that she was still a boisterous pup. I think I remember my parents telling me that she had come from a rescue home, although I am not certain on. All I know is that she stayed with us a while before we had to give her away. My brother was very small, still a baby himself really and I think that Trixie had taken it on herself to make him part of her pack. As a result whenever he would cry she would come running, although she very rarely left his side and always slept under his pinstriped blue and white baby bouncer. As time went by she grew to growl if anyone went near him and snarled if anyone even dared to pick him up, even if he was blind crying. 

One day as my baby brother began to whimper I went as any big sister to make sure he was OK. I must have only been about six or seven at the time but as I went to pick him out of the baby bouncer he was in to comfort him Trixie lost it and went to bite me, narrowly missing my face. She caught me though and in a bit of a fright more than anything I started to cry. There was blood where she had nicked my nose as she has snapped up at me and it was at that moment I think my parents took the executive decision that Trixie needed to be rehomed. This time we had been lucky but if any more blood had been drawn then she may have gotten a taste for it and then she would have no chance at her happily ever after home as she would have to be put down. That was the least of the families worry as what would have happened if she had turned on the baby and snapped at him next time. 

And so that was the end of my first encounter with owning my own dog, or at least a little. All throughout my late teens and twenties (so far at least) when I gradually gained more independence and got a serious boyfriend and a house I thought and even chatted with him about getting a pup to complete our little set-up. I mean I should have really seen he was no good for me when he told me he didn't really like doggo's and certainly didn't want one as a pet. 

After that relationship fell apart (not for the lack of dog ownership I must say) I moved on and after getting my own little bachelor pad in the centre of Bedford I craved some furry company and a little man in my life that wasn't as much hassle as some of the dates I went on. I thought it would help with me meeting new people and making friends and maybe more. But alas the one-bed top floor penthouse had no balcony and thus I was not allowed one by my landlord. And then I met Mr Warehouse and his beloved pup and the rest is history. 

They say you have your first one, the golden child (quite literally in our case) and they are an absolute dream. Sleeps well, doesn't cry, good by themselves, not bothered by anything and generally a happy baby, or in our case a happy pooch. My Step-Dog is not phased by anything and takes the world in her stride, people knocking at the door, maybe the occasional gruff, but fireworks? No problem. Potty training? Don't sweat it! Motorbikes and strange loud noises? Pffft! Children and other dogs? No bother. Left alone? Happy to have her own company. 

Therefore you are lulled into a false pretence that your next one will be just as easy. Just like with babies, Mr. Warehouse grabbed the opportunity a few weeks ago to make our family four paws bigger and finally my dream of having a little furry baby came true. I would have said that having Frankenstein is a little like being a parent, so I am told. He is sometimes a nightmare, OK most of the time, but his love and affection is growing and our bond is getting stronger by the day and I am sure that we will have the relationship I have always dreamt of ... Just need to let him know its OK to be alone sometimes!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Off To See The Wizard ...

Hello Dears, 

Who ever knew at the last week would have been so hard. After coming back from Basingstoke and all the fun that we had there it was like returning home after not having a weekend. No Besties and no fun! Just work! But one thing I was looking forward to was this weekend Halloween celebrations. 

Now don't get me wrong I understand that a lot of people will probably not get the whole Halloween vibe, even going as far as to say that it is far too American for our British culture and that by adopting this as well as the Black Friday Saga that seems to come round every year we are slowly but surely losing out on the good old fashioned British values. But what people fail to realise is that this time of year made Britain what it is today. Some of my fondest childhood memories are in the autumn, when the leaves fall and I used to spend the weekends watching fireworks with my family and celebrating remembrance parade halfway through November. One fond memory that is missed off the list is from Halloween. 

As a child I always wanted to celebrate the spooky nature of All Hallows Eve and all that it brings. Getting dressed up in the scary costumes and playing trick or treat on all the neighbours doors was something in our household growing up as kids that was found upon and seen as a form of begging. I barely got the chance to stay out long enough on a school night to even attempt a trick or a treat. Oh how I longed to go to a high school Halloween party or even throw one of my own.

As I separated from my family I grew into my own and realised just how much I enjoy this holiday, even if it is an all American import. Halloween for me celebrate everything about being fun and creative, making costumes and carving pumpkins. I love being scared and making others scared, although I draw the line at some haunted houses as it is almost certain I would have a heart attack just walking into place. Unlike our American cousins we have decided to take a truly British spin on Halloween, keeping as traditional as possible with a scary twist making sure that All Hallows Eve remains of the day we celebrate the dead and send home all those that are Lost Souls. 

Over the years I have dressed as many different characters including that Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, a scary Doctor/Nurse, A Fallen Angel and this year was no different for I had gone and bought myself a proper outfit for the occasion. Unfortunately I'm bringing it home Mr Warehouse took one look and said that he could easily have pulled off the look himself. And what girlfriend would I be to deny him of this choice. And so, this weekend Mr Warehouse donde blue gingham dress, wig and red socks over his shoes in order to pull off one of the most shoddily put together Wizard of Oz outfit I think I have ever seen. And Me?! Well of course I could not go as Toto so indeed I went as the cowardly lion, complete with his heart ripped out of his chest, ready to begin his quest to find it. Now I will be honest in the fact that it took a few people some goes to get the whole idea of what we came as, but once they understood laughter soon ensued. 

Now normally Mr Warehouse is not bothered at all by Halloween and I am usually planning our outfits at least a year in advance, but this year as we stood watching the fireworks in the local village Mr. Warehouse wondered outside what we would be dressed as this time next year. Since I have used up all the liquid latex and my makeup brushes will be going to get ruined, I figured that maybe we should go for a more simpler and easier look next year. I seriously considered going as Cruella DeVille and Horace who stole the puppies, however I know that I would be reaching for the liquid latex once again for the cheekbones and chin would not chisel themselves. I considered also the latest cinema releases this year including Beauty and the Beast, however yet again they would be much preparation for the dress and the suit are quite hard to come by. 

I am not quite sure yet what Mr Warehouse and I will be wearing this time next year on Halloween however what I do know is that it will probably be a little bit easier to come by. The thought of simply being a vampire or even that Frankenstein and his bride was far too tame for me before, although I feel now that this would be something quite apt for the occasion and in all fairness rather easy to do. Although a small part of me feels that after so many years of prosthetics, liquid latex and toilet paper all mashed up with some homemade fake blood that I would be taking a rather easy route out of the Halloween outfit hall of fame. Who knows what the next year holds, maybe we will go as Chucky and his bride or maybe we will go at something more challenging. But one thing is for sure that in the next 12 months I am sure to have a lot more fun! And to think Mr Warehouse have another one in a few weekends time! Roll on the 90's!

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

My Adopted Family

Hello All, 

So praise Jesus and hallelujah! Finally the heat wave in Britain has come to an end. Now don't get me wrong I enjoy the warmer weather however, when Bedford was becoming more like the Bahamas it was certainly time to call it a day and welcome in the storms to clear away the heat and humidity that had surrounded me for what felt like ages. With the weather inside my office comparing to my grandma's fridge freezer what's the weather outside continue to blister on I was more than happy when the two polar opposites (excuse the pun) we're even out slightly by the fact that the outside temperature has dropped a few degrees. Us Brits 'eh we are always talking about the weather, and I suppose it could not have come at a better time as this weekend not just Glastonbury (no I did not have a ticket and yes it is a sore subject) but also the weekend that Mr. warehouses family all rally round and celebrate the matriarch of the family who passed away a few years ago in the year that Mr Warehouse and I met. 

Granddad Next always seem to be the life and soul of every family event and whilst they are not all as great and wonderful as births, christenings and parties he was a corner pin for the family in time's of need during grief or pain. The Kingpin had married young as many of his generation did and was seemingly in a happy marriage until his wife passed away. The father of five children who went on to have many, many grandchildren never remarried and instead focus on things that you enjoyed in life such as pool, darts and family life. Growing up, Mr Warehouse would tell me the stories of how his granddad taught him how to win on the pool table, strike a bulls-eye and even a few naughty tricks on how to play Dirty! Living out the rest of his days in the local pub and Social Club in the village he would challenge his opponents guy yelling "NEXT" at the top of his little lungs, smiling as he welcomed another soul to try and beat him. With his children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren scattered all over the country from as far down as Cornwall and right up into the Scottish highlands there was always plenty of people to pop in and say hello. But once he had enough of you you should tell me about it as the radio would come on a Classic FM would blare out, Opera signifying that you have now outstayed your welcome. 

Sadly though the inevitable happened and a few years ago Granddad Next passed away, surrounded by those he loved and cared for. The following year, on the anniversary of his death, The family came together once more to celebrate his life in a special way he would have been ever so proud of. And so it brings us to present day where Mr. Warehouse and I attend with all the other family members including the Cornwall-lot and Cambridge-lot to play a 'friendly' game of Pool and Darts. I always preferred the phrase Billiards to Pool, but I was swiftly told on my first introduction to such a memorial tournament that Billiards was far too posh. 

Every year now there is a running theme; new babies to introduce, little children growing-up faster, new jobs, new travels, new faces and the forever questions on when Mr. Warehouse is going to make an honest women of me. Probably didn't help that I was wearing a full-length white Maxi-dress from Boohoo.com.  I look forward to the days where mine and Mr. Warehouse's children can mingle with their cousins and second cousins from faraway land such as Newquay and Huntingdon, playing in the sunshine as we have done in the year before. In fact it is not all that hard to see myself in this family for a long, long time. So many faces that are happy to see me as am I to see them, some of them even old work mates from where Mr. Warehouse and I first met. 

Mind you, I did make my welcoming into the family much easier me thinks with my own tradition, I hope anyway, and that is to make the cake. The first year I think it was something plain, or maybe I was so anxious I made nothing at all, however that does not sound much like me turning up to a event with nothing in my arms. Last year it was a Pool Table complete with balls, cue and plaque reading "NEXT" accompanied by dartboard cupcakes. This year I wanted to blow them away yet again with a creation of soft cupcake, creamy frosting and to top, a picture of our wonderful Granddad Next. But the question is what will be next? 2018's cake is already being manufactured and created in my head, I'm thinking bigger, better and more amazing than anyone can think of. I have some ideas but shall keep them secret and nurture them into next years hacking phase where I shall birth a sugary, cakey goodness. Due Date: Late June 2018!

Who could have predicted the legacy that this little old man would radiate, casting a spell over his generations of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. A true gentleman and someone I think Mr. Warehouse looks up to even to this day. He always talks about his grandfather so fondly and I hope that one day if I can be even half the pillar of the family as much as he was then I know I have done a good job. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Depp Is A Way of Life!

Hello one and all, 

As Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sat on my sofa I listened intently to my childhood being read out in a technicolour of smelly gel pens and biro. It was funny to look back and realize just how warped myself and my best friends were back in the day. And so it continued into the afternoon listening to the letters that were sent to and from each other, silly poems and made up stories about Johnny Depp. 

Speaking of the fellow, I still have hidden somewhere in the depths under my bed a ring-binder full of fan fiction stories written about Johnny Depp and the myriad of characters he played over the years. Romantic novels almost and crime fighting tales, drug deals and passion a plenty. I must say though that some of the visions and creative writing that took place on these online forums was very graphic, even for a twenty-something reading them for the first time in more than a decade. Some stories touched on the most taboo of subjects whilst others are bordering a film script. 

Beautiful as they were it was a time where things were much less complicated, or so we all thought. Alas I wonder and dream of the days back in middle school where all you really had to worry about was what you were seeing at the cinema that weekend or how long you had to plan your outfit for the next Mufti Day. As a pre-teen, I was completely oblivious to the complicated and stressful big wide world that I would one day be a part of. No bills. No car. No Job. Heaven! Never did I have to fret about not being able to make ends meet on a minimum wage job that my government says I should be living just fine on. Nor did I have to concern myself with rental prices or how I would ever, ever even get a peek inside the home-ownership door. In my young naive I suppose I just thought that it would all comes naturally to me - I go to school, I get good grades. I go to college, I get good qualifications. I go to Uni, I gain a degree. I get a job, I buy a house. I meet a guy and we fall in love forever. Life isn't fairy-tale and unfortunately I can see what my teachers meant when they described me as a "pie-in-the-sky dreamer"

At school I was never a realist, always choosing to opt for the books and fiction over the cold hard facts of the classroom. Maybe that's why I feel so robbed of a adult life? Maybe this is why I feel like adulting is way worse than what I imagined it feeling and being like. Even now I see myself just simply drifting off into my own little world, imagining home ownership or my trip to DisneyWorld or a Holiday to the Caribbean. I am glad for Mr. Warehouse sometimes for he always is there to catch me and my ballooning ideas when they catch a bit too much wind, forever ready to bring me back down to earth. 

Anyhoo, back to the brighter side of me - My Friends. The amount of letters we would send each other, talking about all things from love and boys to willies, sex and how we all knew everything there was to ever know about the subjects. It's funny to look back and read what we thought was true about life and the world form just a few sex-ed videos. And as creative as we were with words I am sure that if I caught my daughter, or son for that matter, talking and reading and watching the material we were I would be very concerned. In the days before Internet, teenage girls like us got our kicks from online forums, chat-rooms and good old trading out. I recall the days where Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would almost weekly jam the printer in the school library because we got caught printing too many erotic fan fictions or reams of pointless Johnny Depp pictures to drool over, only for the weekend to come so we could stay-up late at sleepovers and watch the adult channels when the parents had gone to bed. 

I suppose in a way some of the things I wrote poems about and spoke about was a way of just expressing myself and at a time where in school it is so awful to be different and all the drama that surrounds being a pre-teen and a girl, I was certainly glad to have two wacko's joining me on the discovery into women-hood, even if we did stretch the rules - Then again, nothing has changed much, we're still all trying to test one another. But I suppose that is just part of growing up, and I wouldn't want anyone else beside me to do it with!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

You cant pick 'em, But I wouldn't want to!

Evening, 

Sun shining, cousins playing in the garden and all my family around me, the only thing that could have made this better was a glass of wine and someone to drive me home. Alas, Mr. Warehouse has yet to learn to drive and as such I was driving so no White Zinfandel from me! But as the temperature rose to a pleasant English Summer's day I soon realised that, no offence of course, but my family is old! Sounds strange but Mr. Warehouse and myself were the youngest adults on the patio, and not that this is an odd occasion, as it was the same when we visit Mr. Warehouse's brothers and their respective families. 

It sounds strange but you never really think about your family getting older. You always imagine them being there for you, throughout everything both good, bad and ugly. As a family from my Fathers side we have been through a lot including my father in the military and going to war with the later addition of my parents divorce and the eventuality of me being kicked out of the family home also, not to mention one uncle living in Southern Ireland and working away in Africa, another with a busy life involving a young family and my grandparents facing care issues with my Grandpa. But every family is different and I am sure that similar problems arise. 

My Aunt and Uncle had come over from Southern Ireland and we all in my Grandma's Garden and I cast my thoughts to the day where I would one day be the Grandma and I would be hosting a BBQ with my family and my grandchildren. Lemon Cake on the side and with pretty flowers adorning the garden area (not sure how though since I fucking hate gardening) my family would surround me for hopefully some of the happiest days of my life to come. Bringing myself back into the moment though, with most of my Aunts and Uncles drinking we all revelled in each others lives and what was going on and what was up with work, home and family life. However, there was a point in the Sunday rays as the smell of the BBQ sizzled in the background, I wondered how much longer I have with them. 

Sounds morbid I know, but looking around at everyone, laughing and joking with one another, trying to take a dig at someone else I was grateful for the family I had. As the younger one of the family, you don't really think of the people in your life getting old or growing tired of life. But there were more wrinkles and grey hair than I remembered from last time we were all together. I wondered about the next time we would all be together, would it be another family BBQ or something bigger and more of a special occasion. Each and every person round this table I had a special connection to, whether it being my Uncle and Auntie with their two active boys who were kind enough to open their home to me when I had none of my own or my other Aunt and Uncle who would always be there should I need to them, be it an escape to the quiet Irish countryside after a messy break-up or just someone to talk something through over the phone. 

Not that it was a bad thing, but I realised that one day this would end. I would be one of the only family members left and the generation before me would just be a talking point and in photo's. This made me sad, but determined not to let a single moment or opportunity be missed with family in the future. Without them you are nothing, but with them you are everything. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Ready?!

Good evening, 

So a thought occurred to me this weekend. Am I ready? Looking at Mr. Warehouse on Friday evening after a few hours in the park wearing out his Niece's and Nephew's, my beloved other-half sat relaxed on the sofa with the littlest of three children, all seemingly pooped from the exertion. Difference is that only a few moments earlier I was cradling a crying baby with no clue as to why it was upset. Was it hungry? No I was trying to feed it and the milk was not being graciously received. Was it soiled? Nope checked that - Five times. Was it hot? Not sure so I took off some layers. Was it tired? I don't think so as every time I put it down it cried and screamed even more. Did it want to be held? Refer back to being laid down. Was it sad? Probably. 

To be fair I have no clue and zero experience when it comes to children. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are both bemused and concerned with my lack of motherly instinct and general attitude towards children. The amount of times I have said to myself and others that "It'll be different when its my own" and all along I was kidding myself because now, I am actually starting to wonder if it is a false lie that other parents say when your just not ready for kids. 

I look at my own childhood, because I imagine that is where it starts. I was an only child up until I was about five and that is when my brother came along. Little as he always was to me, he was my little Bro and I was furiously protective over him, right up until the moment I was kicked out. Even to this day I find myself defending him and explaining that there must be a reason for some of his strange and sometimes hurtful actions. Growing up though, other than my brother, I never had any real hands on contact with babies or smaller children. My mother was told that after my siblings difficult birth another pregnancy could be the end of her and so it was just the two of us. 

When I was in my mid-teenage years, rocking out to My Chemical Romance and Enter Shikari, along came the first of three cousins, all in a quick succession of one another. With them all approaching their early adolescence I am sometimes put to shame with how much they know already. Sex Education is starting earlier, as is Drugs talks in Personal, Social, Health and Educational studies. At their age I though weed was some kind of plant that your grandma hated and would make you pee the bed if you picked it. I suppose it is education of a generation so as not to make the mistakes their parents may have made. 

I have very few friends that are single and ready to mingle, not that I am of course. Most of the people I know are with someone long term and either getting on the property ladder, having children or getting hitched. But I question sometimes if I am ready for all of that commitment. In fact, looking through social media, I have very few school friends that have not gone on to have children young. Now this is not a blast to young moms, and dads, ho have had their children whilst young themselves. Hey good luck to you, because my limited experience of looking after children, and within that the sparse moments I have had looking after children on my own, I question honestly how it can and is done. Only a handful of people in my friends list have a university degree, or have travelled extensively. Most of them without kids just poodle on through life, fixing up their room with new Instagram style photo-walls and tweeting about how the morning jog was just the best. 

Thinking about it life is great without kids! I am far too selfish, self-obsessed and consumed by moi to have children yet. People have said that "children will be the making of you and all your narcissism will melt away once you have babies" but I doubt it. I will have to wait and see what the future holds but right now there is a world to explore and a whole cupboard of alcohol under my sink that needs t be drunk ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Our Little Furry Starlet!

Hiya, 

So it would appear that The Zombie Sickness Bug last week has not attacked me as yet, however there is still time so I am not holding my breath too much. One thing I am looking forward to is my Christmas Mini-Break to York with Mr. Warehouse and and the Pooch. Skipbridge Farm, an idyllic stable-converted cottage just north of York city itself is going to be just what the doctor ordered and with the rolling hills of Yorkshire and beyond, not to mention the farmyard animals and Hot-Tub (I think!?) its certainly going to be a silver lining to not going on a European City Christmas Market. And although I am happy that I will be spending some of the little daylight hours we get in the UK at the moment the one thing I am not happy with is the fact that weekend after weekend it seems as though they are slipping away quicker and quicker. Melting into nothingness only for me to sit down on Sunday evening and wonder where an earth my Saturday and Sunday have disappeared to leaving me with no option to start rallying around a search party in order to look for my lost hours. 

This weekend was busy for Mr. Warehouse and I, starting with a Pet Photo Shoot we won a few weeks ago for our (OK his) pooch. Heading out to the studio we were excited and Christmas Jumpers at the ready, yes even the dog had one, we were looking forward to capturing forever our little furry baby for eternity. After having a few photo shoots myself before I knew how it all worked, the seeds of compliments and quick sneak-peeks at the screen all planted in well enough time so that the hard sell after in the viewing room is a pressure pot of beautiful images and painful bank balances. Arriving at the studio we met the photographer, an amazing guy who put us both at ease very quickly, not to mention our over-excited Pup! 

But a dilemma was on the horizon. The virtual PA had accidentally booked all of the photographers clients in for the wrong time, not realising that England have a time-zone change every Autumn. With the photographer deeply sorry, we started our shoot although twenty minutes in there was a phone call. It was another family that had also been booked in at the same time as Mr. Warehouse and I. They were over fifteen minute late for their slot but still expected a full hours shoot. Sincerely apologetic the photographer asked if we would be so kind as to let the family have theirs and return an hour later so as to finish off. We obliged, the dog probably as happy as we were to have a little relaxing break in-between. 

Taking her out for a walk and a toilet break we watched as a white Porshe Cayenne pulled into the yard. Judging them already Mr. Warehouse and I looked at each other as a middle aged couple stepped out of the car, greying hair and preened to a upper class perfection. Out of the back seats came three rowdy children, two boys and a little girl, again all primped and polished to a Mayfair standard. Herding them all inside out of the rain we listened to the families posh chatter and lack of apology for being late drift off inside. Finishing our walk quicker than we wanted, Mr. Warehouse and I headed back indoors to the reception and out of the cold and wet with our slightly soggy pet. Sat in the photographers waiting room we could hear nothing but tears and tantrums from the studio. A few times there were some softly spoken telling-off's from what I imagine to be Mom and Dad but to no avail for poor little what-ever did not seem to give any fucks about opening the door and being a general little brat and the other children appeared to sound the same. 

After their shoot they came walking out past both me, my other half and our doggy, smiling all in the knowledge we knew how unruly their little angels really are. With the polite waves from the photographer the door closed and I noticed the relief that spread on his face like warm butter on toast. Laughing our way back into the studio in order to finish up, Mr. Warehouse, the photographer and I gossipped on the family of La-Di-Da posho's as we posed once more with our beloved Canine and again we were told how good, beautiful and of well-temperament she was leaving Mr. Warehouse and I beaming like new parents. 

Soon it came to an end and we didn't even have a chance to swap into our festive gear. Nevertheless we were more than excited to see the snaps and I can already feel our credit cards itching. But that will all have to wait for York is awaiting and so is that nice little cottage of ours! Mmmm ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx