Consumerism and Christmas

Heyy, 

Nine days to go until the big day and I seem to be the only one who is prepped with everything bought pretty much and half of it wrapped already. This year I feel very organized. Last year not so much and next year who effing knows. All I know is that right now I kinda have my shit together. 

I do feel though that whilst my own Christmas list gets longer and longer each and every year with more books, bath bombs or alcohol, I do feel sometimes as though Christmas does become so embroiled in consumerism and material items. 

An article was written back in December 2018 from The Conversation still, I feel, rings true today. The commercialization of the festive period, from column inches about Christmas adverts and who has got what and where, to the appearance of gifts and merchandise on shelves, sometimes more than three months before Santa appears just eats into the spirit of things, and I have to be honest, that for me, it does. Like, is it just me or does Christmas seem to arrive earlier and earlier in the shops and supermarkets these days? 

In 2017, some estimates say that people in the UK spent on average around an extra £500 in December. That is a lot of money on what can only be assumed to be creating an atmosphere. The presents, the joy, the food, the entertainment. It all can add up. I can understand why. As this year will be the first year I am hosting, I can totally feel the pressure to get prepped and ready and organised so that I can relax and enjoy the time we all have with friends and families, especially given the circumstances last year. Now I am not hosting Christmas Day and luckily not Boxing Day either, but the day after (27th) I am due to be hosting a banging buffet. Do I know what I am buying? No. My Plan? Wing it and head to the reduced section in the days that lead up to it and buy what is on offer and what people will like, filling in the remaining bits and bobs as and when I need. 

This is however not what many people do. And rather than save all year round (because it is with no shock that Christmas day is on 25th December the year and will be the same next year and the year after) so really there is no excuse for not saving or being prepared. Because we want to show to people that we care about them and that we love them, and we tend to show this by purchasing gifts, sometimes lavishly and beyond our means. But for the high street and for internet retailers it’s hugely important. Estimates say somewhere between 20% and 40% of annual turnover is done over this period of really just a couple of months. For many retailers, Christmas is the time where they could make it or break it, and in recent years we have seen how broken it can get with the high street giants of Debenhams, Beales, Toys R Us, HMV, and others falling under and failing to keep their head above water. 

However when I think back to Christmas memories of mine, some of the things I remember most were not the presents but the people I was with. Aunties and Uncles, Grandparents and Siblings. To me, that’s the most important part of Christmas, well that and the food and the parties and the outfits and the drinking - And pressies. Does that make me materialistic? Who knows, but what I do know is that I think next year things might change and priorities will change to who needs what and how much. Christmas needs to become a time of memories and fun and happiness rather than who spent what and how many presents are in my stocking. Bring on Christmas 2022!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

Remember, if you would like to purchase anything then please feel free to check out my store at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/Wooftys or visit our Instagram @WooftysDogTreats and use "TATOATS21" to get 10% off your first order over £15.00.

Another year over and done with ...

Afternoon All,  

It goes without saying that last week's blog post was an emotional one and to be honest, the last few weeks have been since Saturday 19th December 2020 when that prat BoJo cancelled Christmas for millions across the Home Counties, despite the Prime Minister saying days beforehand that it would be “inhuman” to do so. 

Following the emergency announcement that our area was going into the most severe of tiers within hours (Tier 4) Mr Warehouse and I had to work out which side of the fence we were going to side with. Were we going to throw caution to the wind, say "fuck you Boris and Corona" and essentially carry on as planned and hope not to get caught out by the law; Or were we going to stick to what Government had advised and simply go without this Christmas in seeing friends and family? We chose the latter however with everything that has happened this year and how much has been stolen from not just me but my family as well, missing out on BBQ's, parties, seeing loved ones, birthdays, new babies, holidays and our damned fucking wedding (which I don't feel totally optimistic about going ahead next year either at the moment) would anyone blame us for wanting to act out?

But alas we did not. After much discussion, deliberation and heated debate (maybe some would call it an argument) Mr Warehouse and I settled on our Christmas 2020 plans. I called the restaurant for our traditional Christmas eve meal and cancelled our booking, something which I have not not done in all my 29 years. I called the venue we were due to visit on and have our Christmas dinner and again cancelled our plans. Boxing day I planned out which places I could still go out and do a spot of retail therapy in preparation for Christmas 2021, hoping it will be better. I booked in at the dentist and planned out "COVID-friendly" things to occupy my time whilst off work between Christmas and New Year - Tidy the spare room, spring clean the house, wallpaper the bedroom and list all those bits on eBay. 

Christmas eve was started watching daytime telly whilst munching on mince pies and a great big mug of coffee, hoping against all hopes that it would fill the hole. It didn't. I wanted nothing more for my morning binge to be interrupted by a news bulletin stating that we got it all wrong or that the PM had a change of heart or something. With Christmas bubbles axed and many areas including London, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire amongst other in the South East in basically fucking lockdown number 3 it was going to be the first time in my entire life that I would not be spending it with my family. I suppose you could even really think of it as the first Christmas I have spent with just my own little family, and maybe the last one as just me and my fiance as next year we anticipate a huge shin-dig and the following year we will hopefully have a little Christmas pudding of our own?

* pukes in mouth for being so sickeningly sweet and wholesome *

That afternoon Mr Warehouse and I went shopping and grabbed some bits for dinner that night and subsequent days in which we should have either been eating out or with others, something I know many other will have experienced in buying in food and bits when they had not expected such expense. Braving the shops and grabbing a few bits I knew we would like for picky-teas and snacking on, I knew that there are many more hundreds of thousands of families that are far worse off than I am and now, like us, they need to try and make the best and scrape together to make Christmas as best as they can. At least we had jobs to pay for the food in our basket. At least we had a roof over our heads. At least Mr Warehouse and I had each other. Rounding off the day with a KFC take-out and a Christmas film we headed to bed and anticipated Santa's arrival in the morning.

Dawn soon broke and after a peaceful sleep, something I have struggled with and still am since the new restrictions were in place, we headed downstairs to start the FaceTimes and WhatsApp video calls. Opening presents and gifts we had received from my Dad and his wife I was delighted with my box of mince pies, Chocolates and Phillip Schofield autobiography (not started it yet and will probably remain on my bookshelf for many months to come until my next holiday). Mr Warehouse also seemed pleased with his beer bread making kit, mint chocolate collection and football memorabilia.

After a long and chilly dog walk with our little one (our older pooch just can't handle long walks anymore and our fear of her hurting herself attempting it just isn't worth the pain of her puppy dog eyes when the leads come out) we stopped by the local village pub and picked up our Christmas dinner takeaway and headed home, gravy daintily positioned on my lap with Mr Warehouse all the while under strict instructions to drive carefully and not spill any of the boiling liquid. Once home we settled in for the afternoon and soon it was time to open my gifts from Mr Warehouse. Copious amounts of gin, a bottle of Baileys, make-up brushes and most of the stock items from LUSH not to mention the much needed and highly anticipated stationary for my new job (which, by this time next week I would have completed my first day in the office - Eeek!) With Christmas dinner done and out the way Mr Warehouse and I cuddled on the sofa with our dogs and binged on Xmas telly.

Truth be told it was a relief to have it all over and done with for another year, just finishing off what a shitty year it has been cannot come fast enough. I cannot begin to tell you how angry and depressed I have felt these last few days. And yes depressed is a strong word however I feel that it is relevant and strong enough for what I and others have and are still feeling. You know I am sure from previous posts and blogs that I do not use the words surrounding depression or mental health lightly and instead hope they add to the gravitas this situation needs. Yes my Christmas was not as bad as I had expected or as worse as I had made out in my head

All this being said however, I need to keep at the forefront of my mind that things will get better than this for it is only a temporary measure. I just hope that this is all worth the wait, worth the purging so that Mr Warehouse and I can finally have the year we were meant to have in 2020.

'Til next year, Love A.Lou xx

The Night Of Lola The Showgirl!

Hello!

Another long week over and done with I was certainly more than happy that it was finally payday. It felt as though February had been a lot longer of a month than the payday between Christmas and the end of January. Maybe it was the fact that all of my money was ploughed into a savings account ISA in order to desperately try and save for a house in order to move out before Christmas this year. This, coupled with the fact that my weight has now started to slow down after losing so much over Christmas and New Year despite all the personal training sessions and gym visits has all in all left me feeling slightly deflated. With no holiday to look forward to this year and very little planned in the calendar I was certainly struggling with my motivation for losing weight and saving for my first home!

Deciding that I was not going to spend another month not going out and being a complete antisocial recluse, I organised a works night out. Following the works Christmas party and how much fun it was, not to mention just how messy it ended up, I was certain that a good old-fashioned night out to paint the town red! On sending the email out to my colleague I eagerly awaited their response. But nothing came, only a few replies on how some people were not able to make it. There were a few suggestions that involved team activities that were not alcohol related but on trying to obtain numbers no one seemed to care. So it seemed up until last minute it was just me and a couple of the girls going out for a quiet drink and maybe a dance. 

Heading for some pre-drinks round one of the girls house's, gossipping away about music and the likes, trying to decided on what pair of shoes goes with what dress and whether anyone can see our VPL - Visible Panty Line. Frosty air nipping at our legs we were finally in a pub keeping warm and refreshed with some Prosecco or two. Later on the music started to pump and in between scrolling though social media and nattering over the tunes there would be a Selfie or two. Unfortunately none of us out saw the arrogant twat walking towards us like some sort of Andy Warhol. Dressed in an overly tight top that saw the blood supply cut off to his exterior limbs, he waltzed over to our table and failing to introduce himself like a true gent (or to be honest anyone with any ounce of dignity or respect) and practically snatched my Smart phone out of my hand in order to "help" us clearly failing and weak women take a Selfie. 

Five minutes he was still there and despite our efforts to move him along politely we had given up and lost our patience with him and his poxy photography skills fast. Insulting him as only women know how to by emasculating the little toe-rag he eventually got the picture and pissed off, leaving my phone back in my safe hands and with a dozen or so badly taken and blurred images of three women on the Razz. 

Carrying on throughout the night we were joined by some other work colleagues whom were also on a night out with some of their friends, joining together in a drunken stupor I felt like the fifth wheel in all of this. Not wanting to interrupt anyone's conversation and boring of looking at my phone I went off in search of some company. Male was my choice preferably as they were normally more friendly and usually happy to see anyone of the female variety taking an interest, even a Hepher like me! Or so I thought. The first lad I made conversation with was tall with light brown curly hair in what the kids on the street call a "Meet Me At McDonalds" Haircut. Wearing a dusty blue grey jumper and being typically British I mentioned how cold it was and we struck up a chat which eventually lead to him asking for my number. Before I even had a chance to turn around and run back to my friends or tell him I had a boyfriend I was thrust a phone and asked to put in my number. When I handed it back and said I had done it, I was promptly told that this was not true as Mr. Meet-Me-At-McDonalds-Haircut had been watching me the whole time and I had not given my number. "Persistent I'll give him that" I thought as I typed a random number into my phone and saved it under 'Lola' - And yes she was a showgirl! 

Heading off from one public house to the next I found myself in the wallet-sucking auction room and whilst its nice atmosphere, relatively good music and nice cocktails are always welcome in my books, the price you pay for a dribble of Blossom Hill White Zinfandel (my fave) you could walk up the road to the corner shop and buy a whole bottle and still have change. Separated from my work buds I made some new ones with a guy who was sat alone and looking melancholy. Striking up conversation in probably the most intoxicated way possible whereby I thrust my hand out and introduced myself. The gentleman obliged and we got chatting, later on his friends joined and I got talking to some more guys and they asked if I was single. "Wow two lots of guys in one night?! Surely this cant be happening? They must all have that 'Shallow Hal' thing going on!" I pondered. Laughing it off I found my friends and I danced the rest of the night away without many cares in the world apart from having a good time. 

I never knew that I would have been so popular with the lads. I mean granted I did make the first move in terms of walking over for a chat and introducing myself in a proper way as opposed to our All-Muscle-No-Brains "Photographer" earlier in the evening. Being the size I am (UK Size 18/20) I would have thought that men would have turned the other way, ignored me or worse made a joke but in actual fact I think they were just pleased for the attention and the fact that someone was maybe interested in talking to them for a change and not them having to do all the chasing, not that that was what I was after. I kinda feel sorry for lads sometimes as they are damned if they do and damned if they don't in many a moral dilemma, especially when it comes to dating and anything concerned with the opposite sex. 

Now I know some people may criticise me and ask why I did all those things on Friday night when I had a perfectly good-to-me boyfriend sat at home. The thing is that I did not intend to go out with the intention of pulling, cheating or handing out myself like sweeties. I have respect for myself regardless of when I am in or out of a relationship. I know how to conduct myself and am confident in the situations I put myself in. If I wanted to cheat I could and would have done it months if not years ago. But I didn't and don't. Why? Because Mr. Warehouse and I have a strong relationship which means he can go out, chat with other girls, dance with other girls and even mildly flirt with them if he so wishes just as I can and did on Friday night, but the difference between us and other couples is that we trust each other and that each night one or both of us goes out on the piss, we know we're coming home to something much, much more special, meaningful and precious than some twenty-something in "Da Club"!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Still Got It!

Evening, 

So following last week's incident with the house fire I was adamant to get back to some sort of normality before the final  few days before the Christmas rush hit. By this time of the year I wanted to be settled with everything bought and ideally wrapped, sacks and bags ready to go with a plan for the big day on where we were spending it and who with, not to mention to be spending our first morning waking up in our new home for the festive period and maybe even hosting some people over the holidays. But alas, here I was trying to juggle visits from the Landlord in between going to work, calling insurance companies and that's without even making a start on the wrapping or the ninety-odd Christmas Card I have to write this year. But with it all nearly over and done with, insurance settled and the necessities done away with I can finally start to enjoy what I can of this time of year. 

This week was the Christmas party at work and whilst I don't normally talk much about my colleagues and what my day-to-day life is at work or what we do socially I suppose I best touch on my time during what is supposed to be the one night of the year you can really let your hair down. Some people get amorous, Some people get mildly flirty. Some people cop-off with one another. Some have a bust up. The Christmas Party at work has always evoked many a good tale on the Monday morning and alas there was none to tell, and even if there was I wouldn't spill. Saturday morning I woke however with a pounding headache and a serious need to re-hydrate. On asking what time I came home I replied to Mr. Warehouse that I thought it must have been maybe two or half-two in the morning only for him to explain it can't have been since he was up until quarter-to-three in the early hours of Saturday and I was still not back, meaning I must have been out to the lights came.on. Proud to say I still got it. 

Now I have been to many a Christmas Party and works night out, maybe too many to count and certainly too many to remember. There were some of my first encounters of a night on the tiles with work colleagues was probably back in College when it would start on a Thursday lunch time with a hour-long liquid lunch down the pub and then on through Thursday Night, Friday Night, Saturday Night and Sunday night, only to roll up to college on a Monday still drunk or at the very least hangin' out our tree. 

Work life soon progressed after College where I went into my first proper full time job working for a IT and technology company in Northampton. Nights out were sophisticated and started with maybe a brief glass of Rose at lunch down the local Harvester and then home for a quick change before picking everyone up en route to town. Setting our roots down in a cocktail bar one of my colleagues husband's owned (I know, friends in all the right places) we would sip away until the club's beckoned. The night would usually end with Mr. Workaholic coming to collect me or sharing a cab home. Nights out rarely involved Mr. Warehouse in Northampton, we would normally head out of a weekend with his Sister who seemed to know every bouncer in Dunstable and as a result would queue jump and get the best protection, but this was hardly work.  

After moving back home to the 'Shire, and it was then that the work's night out on the razz dried up. Mainly I put this down to just not being able to find a job or company I wanted to work for. There was always a reasoning for the role not working out. Roles were boring. Roles were too stressful. The commute was too far. The public transport was a pain in the arse every day to and from the office. Life was just very unstable, as it had been for the last few years really. That was until I walked through the doors of my last company I worked for. 

Being introduced to more or less everyone that worked there, less than eight-weeks later there I was on a night out. And getting pissed every four-weeks on pay day seemed like a tradition of sorts. It was on this night out, all those many moons ago that Mr. Warehouse and I met. Crushing on me since I joined I had recently split from Mr. Cheese and I think as a ploy to get me to come out some of the guys in the office arranged a night out, to take my mind off it. Betting with the store-man that I would / wouldn't be late I arrived at the designated time, only to be met by a red-haired Mr. CWG and a smartly dressed gentleman in a lilac pinstriped shirt. "Oooh a sales rep" I thought to myself, assuming he would be at least in some money and therefore a good catch in terms of conversation, ethics and morals - Not just a fuck-boy like the rest on Tinder! As more and more faces turned up we headed to a club to dance the night away, but not before some of the girls from the office collared me to ask if I was interested in Mr. CWG or Mr. Warehouse. I played it coy but had no idea that both of them were vying for my attention like some sort of horny peacocks. 

After that night out a girl from the office messaged me and asked if she could pass my number onto Mr. Warehouse and I suppose the rest is history they say. Although when Mr. Warehouse explained that he was not a sales rep and indeed did work in the Warehouse I refused to believe him, until Monday morning came and I met a rather awkward and shy man in the Canteen. From then onwards there was a night at the dogs, quickly followed by someones birthday party, followed by another works night out for one reason or another and then there was the Annual Christmas Party, only to be followed a few months later with an all expenses paid awards ceremony, again drinks included. It was amazing. Like living my college years all over again. Friends soon turned to what I would class as a close knit family and will be forever looked upon as one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. But then things began to change and our little family went out less and less. I was starting to dislike my desk and whilst the people really did keep me from walking on many an occasion I knew it would not be long until the end. 

This time round with my not-so-new-anymore job I feel it is more of a sophisticated affair. Everyone is over the age of twenty-five so have done the whole falling off the curb and bundling into a kebab shop at 2am. Work life nights out now include going on dinner dates, pre-drinks putting the world to rights and talking shite, heading to cocktail bars and paying over the odds for a glass of wine when you could have bought the whole bottle at the shop round the corner. Life is much more mature, but don't get me wrong oh how I do wish I could have a messy night out again with my old colleagues, or maybe with my new ones. A good old sticky night club floor, someone to bum menthol's off in the beer garden and a mediocre argument about how I can walk home as I live so close to town and not needing a cab. Maybe this is something I should initiate. A proper dirty night out! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx