We have gathered here today ...

Evening all, 

Pulling into the car park of the church I was anxious already. So many times Mr. Warehouse and I had found ourselves here, talking through restrictions with Vicars or sorting out postponements with Reverand's. It was hard to believe we had made it a small step closer to our wedding day. 

Arriving with our basic bitch packed lunch in a Co-Op carrier bag like school kids in the playground we headed inside and cautiously introduced ourselves to our new classmates. We were, of course, the first ones there (because Mr Warehouse has palpitations if we are even remotely on time and just has to be early to everything, something which is not ingrained in my moral fibre I must say). Next to arrive were soon to be Mr and Mrs Quiche. 

Aptly named since we saw them a mile off driving a recently plated BMW. The Hubby to be was tall, dark and handsome with a full quaft of hair and was only a rolled-up jumper on the shoulders away from a Prep school education and a membership to a rowing club, the latter to which we would find out in due course was true. The wifey was dressed in a very demure and twee ditsy patterned tea dress past knew length (ooh the scandal of showing an ankle) and carrying a cooler box. Yes. A cooler box. The contents of which would lend themselves later on during our lunch break in which she would bringth a glass bottle of ginger beer (probably from a farm shop and almost certainly organic) as well as a full homemade quiche from said cooler box and carve off a slice for her betrothed whilst Mr Warehouse and I looked on over our pre-packaged sandwiches and carton of drinks. They were perfect. As though God had taken his pencil and created them himself. A part of me hated them. But a deeper part of me wanted that; Tea dress, cooler box, quiche and all. 

Soon after were soon to be Mr and Mrs Beardy-Preggo, mainly named such because one was pregnant (although not showing) and the other had the most spectacular Viking-esk beard I think I have ever seen on a man. They were a cute hipster couple who had a dog called rusty and probably lived in a cool attic loft converted flat maybe in one of the villages. They kept themselves to themselves really as did everyone. We weren't there to make friends. We were there to learn about God and Jesus and shit. 

The reverend started off with introductions and it was my job to introduce Mr. Warehouse. I had to think long and hard about his likes and dislikes and desperately tried to stay away from a confessional about how he is completely incapable of picking up his socks and putting them in the wash basket. Once we had acquainted ourselves the "Marriage Matters" Guidance began. 

The preface began; In the presence of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of (insert name of the bride - AKA moi) and (insert name of the bride - AKA hunky Mr. Warehouse), to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love. I was getting giddy already! This was happening, this was really happening. Continuing, Marriage is a gift of God in creation through which husband and wife may know the grace of God. It is given that as man and woman grow together in love and trust, they shall be united with one another in heart, body, and mind, as Christ is united with his bride, the Church. We were asked to think - What does that mean to me? What does that mean to my husband? Are we prepared to commit ourselves to the union of marriage and all that it brings?

Reading the passage given to us we were told that none of it will sink in on the big day and that we would be far too consumed with what has just happened and what is about to happen and what is going to happen later that the following word would simply wash over us. Thundering on the reverend continued reading; The gift of marriage brings husband and wife together in the delight and tenderness of sexual union and joyful commitment to the end of their lives. It is given as the foundation of family life in which children are born and nurtured and in which each member of the family, in good times and in bad, may find strength, companionship, and comfort, and grow to maturity in love. 

I suppose in a way I hadn't really thought too deeply about what it all means and how we will deal with everything that life can throw at us in the next fifty-odd years; Kids, births, deaths, funerals, parties, arguments, passionate embraces. You name it we're gonna have to muddle our way through it and work things out. Marriage is a way of life made holy by God, and blessed by the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ with those celebrating a wedding at Cana in Galilee. 

Then, just before I zoned out when the religious schpeel started, something profound hit me - Marriage is a sign of unity and loyalty which all should uphold and honor. It enriches society and strengthens the community. No one should enter into it lightly or selfishly but reverently and responsibly in the sight of almighty God. (Insert the name of the bride - AKA moi) and (insert name of the bride - AKA hunky Mr. Warehouse) are now to enter this way of life. They will each give their consent to the other and make solemn vows, and in token of this, they will each give and receive a ring. We pray with them that the Holy Spirit will guide and strengthen them, that they may fulfill God’s purposes for the whole of their earthly life together. Now that is something I can get on board with ... 

Marriage is for me the unity of two people, who in their own right are individuals who have come together to form a team, a bond, a family. In years to come their team will expand hopefully and grow but fundamentally our church wedding was a formal and legal statement to the world that we are a team, one force to be reckoned with and that it was us against the world. For me, the day went on, maybe longer than it needed to, or maybe not long enough. "Marriage Matters" Guidance has had me in all of a bit of a state if truth be told. 

It has made me question a lot, mainly my belief and how whilst science faaaar out-weighs religion in all its formats, be it Christianity, Buddism, Hinduism, or Jewish beliefs, it has undoubtedly provoked some inward thinking and self-reflection. The thought processes in me now whirling away are considering what it would mean to be a part of a community that society recognizes and accepts and totally normalizes without any proof or clarification on what only seem to be old fairy tales and stories from the past. There is no proof of God and no proof that any man called Jesus ever existed and if he did somehow feed 5,000 with bread and fish or that he emerged from a rock after being murdered or all of the other miracles that happened? 

But what can I do but consider it. Maybe going to services in the coming weeks will help me with some of these feelings or questions and certainly give me and Mr. Warehouse some food for thought (although at the moment it feels like the UK's McDonald Franchises) like what is going to happen to our finances after we are married, will anything change and if we disagree how do we resolve it? Will we become a carbon copy of Mr. and Mrs Quiche or will we be one of those couples that comes for a few weeks on the run-up to the wedding and then nothing until our child wants to be enrolled in a catholic primary school. So many things to consider but one thing is for sure, God sure does have some nice Gaffs to get hitched in!

'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.

Let the wedding bells ring out

 Hello Hello,  

Snow defrosted and all snowmen melted (although I think we now have to refer to them and "snow people" just in case someone gets offended, commonly known rather ironically as a snow-flake) our lives in lockdown returned to normal - Whatever the fuck that is anymore. By mid-week, it was all but a long lost daydream and with our evening occupied with plans for the first time in months, I was excited. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was actually going to be talking wedding shit. Not "Oooh I hope it happens this year" or "Oh no COVID-safe wedding" blah blah blah. No. Certifiably exciting wedding shit.

After weeks of uncertainty and unknowing, anxious days of thinking non-stop about how our wedding might look. Will it go ahead, won't it go ahead? What are the restrictions, will we have to wear facemasks and is there any point in having all the expense? If it does go ahead how many people will we be allowed, will it be enough and who are the magic few? So many questions whirling around in my head it is no wonder I hadn't much sleep since Christmas. Because whilst everyone means well after the big man came down our chimney (socially distanced of course) the next question on everyone's lips was wedding, wedding, wedding.

As much as I knew that all our friends and family meant well by asking and only trying to maybe suck some happiness and excitement for finally a day where we could all be together again, I loathed the conversations and all that they entailed. That was until I had an honest and frank conversation with firstly my Matron of Honour - Mrs Tweedle-Dumb, and thereafter spurred on by our conversation (and the lure of a kebab) Mr Warehouse. We sat down on a Friday night to discuss and I had come up with several ideas such as a Humanist Ceremony (basically a non-religious and non-legally-binding ceremony focussing on each other as opposed to the holy one) switching up the venues to something smaller and less costly to accommodate the possibly smaller guest numbers and even the "P" word again.

As before, Mr Warehouse reassured me, if not heavily-handed due to the heated discussion (not helped by the chilli sauce laden lamb pitta). He made me more confident and happy that things are too uncertain at this moment in time to be making any rash decisions when no one knows what is happening next week let alone in four-months time. And so we took the decision that after touching on a few of the above ideas we would take them into consideration, add a pinch of salt and put it on the back burner until Easter when Government hopes to start opening life back up. Today the BBC confirms that the death toll is fading fast with only 406 being recorded today (Monday 01 February 2021), down just under a hundred on last Monday's figure. With the downturn in figures for people becoming infected as well as dying from the disease seems to suggest that the vaccines are working. What's even better news is that should the news be believed, the UK is not only on target but smashing the figures and expects that not only would we have vaccinated the top four categories of vulnerable people by mid-February, but that it is likely that this could be as soon as next week.

With all this in mind and focussing heavily the last few weeks since the kebab-convo, I have become engrossed in positivity and only accept positive vibes and attitudes. All Negative Nelly's and Grumple-Grumps need not apply. And so getting back to the beginning of this blog, our evening occupiedo. Armed with mountains of information from blogs, podcasts, news and more (Mainly from Guide For Brides and their weekly updates from the governments wedding taskforce so a big shout out to them for igniting such a firey intensity surrounding wedding planning again) Mr Warehouse and I scrabbled around for the laptop lead and the best lighting for our meet with the Reverand.

Much talking of flowers, hymns, singing (why do I hear Will Ferrell in the voice of "Elf" saying singing - Man I love that film) and readings were enough to keep me going. I had hoped Mr Warehouse would get just as excited as I was, maybe rubbing off on him a little, but I think a hard day in the pharmaceuticals industry with many more to come and the work-life causing mounting stress and frustration didn't help him to unwind or giddy about anything. And so June 12th here we come. Ideally with everyone. Even better with my Matron of Honour to be allowed to travel here from LA without visa restrictions or our nephew to wave at us from the crowded faces. The icing on the cake if we can have a dance and disco or cuddle - OMG! Dare I get too ecstatic? In any which way on the 12th of June, it will be me and Mr Warehouse and our Reverand standing up there, who else joins us along the way - Who knows?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

All Things Bright and Beautiful

Evening, 

Mini-Moon Spa hotel for post-wedding snuggles and QT with the new Hubby? Check! A pre-wedding holiday to Newquay? Check! Stressful visit to the Reception venue with the Father of the Bride and his wife to go over details, floor plans and meet the new venue coordinator? Check! Must mean one thing - Eights months to go!

However, with the weeks melting by, a visit with the Reverand was certainly due. After enquiring in January about our marriage matters meeting due to take place in February 2020 hosted by our Church and for all the couples getting married that year I was surprised to learn that Mr Warehouse and I were one of only two couples getting married in St Mary's this year. I was shocked. I thought that maybe there would be quite a few, maybe even in or around our day. Maybe even the same day (not that I like sharing, I just wanted to piggy-back their flowers).

Reading up online in order to try and prepare myself for a visit to the Lord's Crib, I learnt that when you marry in a church, you have not only the legally binding religious contract of marriage but the vicar’s personal and individual attention, which is only made better by knowing more about you and you're betrothed. 

Prior to this meeting last week we had already met the head of the Church and his protegee (who will be marrying us) but nevertheless she was now well and truly into her new role and whilst had already met with us, was interested in our story and how we came to be. It was nice that she knew some of Mr Warehouse's relatives and this made it much easier to relax and get to know each other. In time the relationship with our vicar will, like most, often go beyond the wedding day and it is possible she could be part of other big occasions in our life, like christening our children. Reading through the website, yourchurchwedding.org, as with ourselves, be prepared for a good few hours worth of form filling and question answering. "There will be some forms to complete which are necessary for the vicar’s records and they will need to ask a few questions that confirm you’re free to marry and that you have a legally-recognised connection with the church." 

Now remember that whilst some of these questions or items seem silly or trivial (like 'Are you related?'), the details are really important to ensure our, and your marriage will be legally sound. Accidentally we forgot to bring our passports and birth certificates, something we will have to produce at our next meeting just after Easter and most certainly before our Bans being read in August. Mr Warehouse and I are both British, born and bred, however, the website states that "If either of you are a national from a country that is outside the EEA, the vicar will advise you on applying for a Superintendent Registrar’s Certificate, now required for all Church of England marriages of non-EEA nationals." Unlike some of the things I had read and heard online and through others in conversation, if either party are divorced the vicar will need to see your decree absolute (confirmation of your divorce) however just because you have divorce in your background doesn't mean that a religious ceremony in a Church is off-limits, it just means that there is a little more legwork involved and the vicar will almost certainly want to talk about in some detail.

Some of the things we spoke about during the initial visit last week were the prices and costs involved of the Church ceremony including Flowers, Organist, Choir and Bells being rung. Additional options included something special which I shan't divulge however I think will be an interesting and different addition to our ceremony. 

One of the main things talked about, however, and something we have not really thought about too much was Hymns and readings. As we are marrying in a Church the only condition is not the Hymns or sing-song bits, but that we must have at least one religious reading. I thought personally it would have been the other way around and that readings could come and give or take a poem or two, but the Hymns had to be religious and all "God this" and "Jesus that" but that is not the case. 

Yourchurchwedding.org, confirms that for most couples and weddings, there are usually two or three hymns sung. "The first is sung near to the beginning and helps everyone to feel that they are together in this place for a special purpose. The last hymn comes right before the final blessing, and reflects a mood of celebration and joy." Sometimes another hymn is included whilst the register is being signed, or just after, however, this is something Mr Warehouse and I didn't want and would rather have a song played, choir singing something or that special surprise I am so excited to leak about.

My future Husband and I wanted to find hymns that are familiar to our guests and are easy to sing, encouraging everyone to join in and not just mumble or humm along. Hymns and the Church Kareoke bit I had made my mind up long ago that I refused to have any songs that people had to sing that were unfamiliar or unknown or had those weird split words and syllables. I'm talking 'Hallelujah' and 'All Things Bright and Beautiful'. The website helpfully explains that "The vicar or the organist at the church where you are to be married, (or Directors of Music in some of the larger churches), will be pleased to help you decide." This being said, the capabilities of the organist, the type of organ they have in your church and also the choir and their abilities all need to be taken into account so seeking the opinion of the vicar, even if you have already decided which hymns you’d most like to have, can be immeasurably helpful.

But, following a difficult week and a whole bottle of red wine I was sat on Friday night, balling my eyes out as I listened to a non-religious, Disney song. Powerful, strong and tender it was everything I was looking for and as I listened to some of the lyrics I could envision our congregation, all there just for us, singing it to us, loud and proud. I was a mess. And so we found our Hymns, now we just need to find a reading appropriate and religious enough without being too much so.  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Wedding Like No Other!

Hello, 

With less than a few days until his operation I thought I would again try and teach my puppy some valuable life skills, like how to conduct ones self when in a peculiar environment whilst containing bowel movements, sitting in the front seat of a moving vehicle whilst not being sick or having a pampering sleepover round your Mom's friend's house as they all sit around chatting shit and smoking like it's1984 their in a seedy nightclub. 

I wouldn't say it was the best experience he has had, however, that being said it certainly went a lot better than anticipated. I started our trip as I normally do stopping off at Nanny Pumpkin's for a coffee and a biscuit. We chatted about mine and Mr Warehouses new edition since she had not yet met our little bundle of fur, cooeing over him like a new baby and admiring him from a distance. Truth be told I don't think that my Nanny Pumpkin is much of a pet person especially that of dogs. I assume, partly from what she has told me and partly from my own judgement that as a military family they were surrounded by families who would get a dog or a cat and then have to give it up several weeks later when they moved army barracks only to be disappointed when Mittens or Rover could not come with them. I do recall somewhere that my father and his brothers had won a goldfish at a local fair and that my Nanny Pumpkin had agreed to let them keep it. If I remember correctly that the goldfish met its end in the same way many do with one flush and a toilet burial. 

I briefly saw my aunty, uncle and cousins as they had also popped by to see me and the new puppy, after which I tried to dash over to my other Nana's to see my uncle and her before my uncle went to go and play golf. I knew before even stepping foot inside the jazzy carpeted house that she had lived in for the last decade or so that my Scottish Nana would be much more reciprocal to my baby-pooch. I knew for a fact that my Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. Picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest. 

I thought to myself as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. In her mid-80's now her soft white curls seemed to wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years. We spoke alot about my upcoming wedding next year and discussed a lot about her wedding and how different it was back then. 

I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger. 

Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him. 

Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic. 

Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish as she recalled and remembered how the day went. And as my little fur baby fell asleep hold-up on the jazzy carpet I thought about how this could be me in a few decades time, remembering all the fun and joyous moments I had with friends and family at my own wedding. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Stuck in the Mud!

Evening one and all,

Following on from the festivities I have quite some to share with you all. Apologies for the absent nature, unfortunately with writing once a week, there would have come a time when the dates would have lay on a Christmas and New Years eve, both of which were spent drinking alcohol and eating copious amounts of chocolate and calorific foods that will probably lead me to death sooner or later. Nevertheless I have had a wonderful new years and Christmas, hope that yours also was pleasant? Mine was eventful, as it always is, lots of presents and gifts, family and friends to see and mingle with. Oh and my Dad got engaged to his girlfriend of eight years. How I feel about it? Lets just say I am taking a rain check and will be back with you soon ... 

The first few days of the New Year and my Christmas break from work have been heavily occupied with Wedding Planning (and not of my Dads'). Finally we have booked a venue, a beautiful 'T-shaped' converted old school
in a small village (smaller than the one I live in now) near to the Church we plan to marry, Mr. Warehouse's family church that everyone in his family all bar a handful have declared they're vows. In all fairness it would have been nice to have it in my family church, you know since I am the one christened and all, however with Mr. Warehouse referring to it as "The Asylum" and its less than perfect track record of my parents divorce, I struggled to find its importance to have it there, especially with the 1970's styled outside - See here! 

Now we have booked the venue the most important things come next. The Bar - Booked and we have even been able to book a free drink for everyone on arrival and even better; No charge for hiring! I suppose Mr. Warehouse and I now need to clothe ourselves, feed our guests and give them something to dance too! 

With still so much left to plan and organise, Mr. Warehouse thought we would kick off the New Year in style and after meeting with old family friend Miss Bride about her hopefully securing us a beautiful and tasty wedding cake, my fiance and I hopped in the car and headed for a wedding fair we were given free tickets too at the very grand and beautiful Knebworth House. However with the invites and tickets being about as clear as mud (we'll get onto that later) Mr. Warehouse and I drove around for ages trying to look for this place. Gate after gate after gate after frigging access gate we got too was all shut up and closed off. Searching in vain for an alternative route just lead us to another closed off access through road and with one final go of it I was determined to find this fucking place! 

However what I did not realised was that the postal code Mr. Warehouse had taken down from a sign nearby to the venue was literally in the middle of fucking no-where! going from a tarmac road with markings to a concrete  with potholes for days. Following this and our "trusted" technology lead us to a a gravelly farm track with lumps and digs I thought the car would fall into. Poor Viv had more to contend with though as soon dirt lanes turned to barely-able-to-squeeze-through boggy tracks. With the middle of the road (if you can even call it that at this stage) high enough for me to feel the car scrapping its insides as we slowly pushed through the grassy mud, I could feel the car slipping and sliding, barely able to keep a grip on the boggy track. I thought at one stage we will be sat in the car, middle of feckin' no-where, teetering on a tractor made verge in the middle of the road. 

After making a forty-point turn and scratching the paintwork no end, we ignored the blasted GoogleMaps Shite and headed towards civilisation, not before passing walkers with strange looks as we continued and squeezed down lumpy mud tracks with dips and ducks aplenty. 

Arriving at the posh concreted road, winding through the beautiful countryside estate we had just been fucking around in for the last two hours we were certainly glad to arrive and was looking forward to the free champagne and cake tasting on offer. However on arrival there was barely enough time to even look at suppliers let alone get some much needed information from them before the fashion show started. 

Sitting down and enjoying the show was lovely and with a Fanta in hand and Mr. Warehouse by my side I couldn't be happier and realised that this would soon just turn into another anecdote about that time we nearly got stuck in a field. Lots of white dresses and formal wear later we left the show to be greeted by most of the suppliers shutting up shop or stall and going home. Ha Ha gutted and disappointed were not even the words. And because of all of the fiasco earlier both Mr. Warehouse and my phones had died and so we had to try and navigate our way home and cancel the plans to pick up some much needed wedding essentials. Oh the drama, but maybe something to add to the grooms speech. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

A Visit From The Tooth Fairy!

Good Evening,

So continuing with the fancy-free frivolity of being a twenty-something with minimal commitments, this week I decided to book a day off. Now you are probably all thinking, "Hmm, I wonder what our dear friend did with her time off?" but wonder no more my amigos as I took it off not for a extended mini-break, nor a lengthy, well-needed spa day with Champers. No, I took the day off to visit the place where people are born and people die. Yes. Hospital!

After weeks of knowing my appointment to have my back Molar removed, I was certainly not looking forward to it, especially on a weekend where I had other, more important things to think about like how I am going to deal with God at Church on Sunday and what I should wear to the Christening that day. All items which pondered my mind as I sat waiting for my name to be called. I did wonder if I should maybe say my goodbyes to Mr. Warehouse now, read him my will and testament and explain what sort of coffin I would like for my nerves and fear factor were surely high enough to give me a heart attack if the Surgeon didn't. 

Name called and without a moment to spare once in the Surgeon's office I was whizzed through a shit load of questions my anxiety has made me forget and hoofed straight into the operating theatre. Laying down on the PVC Leather couch I tried not to imagine people having violent porn on it. Sitting back as the nurses rallied round I asked if I would be able to listen to some music in order to drown out the sounds of drills, wrenching and yanking. Getting me prepped a lady took my blood pressure and I mentioned how I was proud that it along with all my other vitals were outstanding for a person of a BMI over 30. But as I rest my head backwards and felt the tourniquet tighten and the sharp scratch of the needle pierce my pale skin I got chatting to the lady holding my arm. She had noticed the golden bumblebee around my neck and had commented on how pretty it was, probably the first person in a long time to do so. I thanked her and explained how it was not real gold, letting her into the secret that it was in fact sterling silver with a gold-plate and that honestly I should probably go and get it re-plated. As I felt the anaesthetic take hold, pulsing through my veins I drowsily slurred that I wanted an Alex Monroe Bumble-Bee for my birthday but instead bought this as it was much cheaper that the £150.00 real-Gold Monroe. As I revelled in the fact that someone had the same interest in the beauty that is Alex Monroe, I could feel myself slipping under. Everything became blurry and slurred. Nothing made sense and I couldn't feel anything in terms of pain but had the sensation of multiple people pulling, ripping and stretching my face. 

As they wheeled me coming out of Theatre I noticed Mr. Warehouse on his feet, waiting anxiously. I have no idea of time and whilst I was recovering from the drugs and anaesthetic I lay there not wanting to speak to my sweet boyfriend as I could feel that he did not want to look upon me in the state I was. Later I recall him saying that it was one of the worst moments of being with me as he loathed the fact that I was in pain and hooked up to all these machines, nothing that he nor I could do to make it better. What a sweetheart 'eh?!

Apparently it wasn't all morbid and solemn. Supposedly there were two surgical bins, one yellow, one black and white. According to Mr. Warehouse I was so out of it from my medication I thought that they were a Duck and a Penguin having a deep conversation about the political affairs somewhere. I also tried to dance whilst lying in my hospital bed and this didn't stop when the nurses tried to get me up. Soon though I was allowed home. Mr. Warehouse took me back to the Home he shares with his Mom and pet Dog. Mr. Warehouse treated me very well on Friday, read all my hospital paperwork, made sure I took my meds on time, kept me topped up on water, wiped my dribbles and even made me lunch and dinner. Such a good boy isn't he!?

With my tooth removed the rest of Friday was a haze between doggy cuddles, Mr. Warehouse cuddles and sleeping. The weekend as a whole was fairly relaxing ending yesterday with a beautiful Christening service in a tiny snow-dusted church on the outskirts of Marston Mortaine in the idyllic Bedfordshire countryside followed by a wonderfully tasty meal at The Embankment Hotel, situated right on the river front of the River Ouse in Bedford. Now I must say that on calling the venue a few weeks ago to ask for a menu to be sent via email for pre-selecting what I and the boyfriend were going to have I was quite put out by the rudeness from staff and other telephone answer-ers. However on entering and ordering a 'Hot Mulled Cider' which took longer than needed I was pleasantly surprised when they not only offered me a drink on the house for the 30-minute wait whilst the Cider warmed but also a couple of free refills and what amazingly scrumptious, apple-y, lemon-y, cider-y goodness. especially for when there is snow on the ground outside. 

But hears hoping that this weekend the snow can stay away so Mr. Warehouse and I can do something fun involving something warm and cosy. Definitely not off to raid my under sink booze-cupboard for some left over cider ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Amen.

Evening all, 

So this weekend has been one of the first Bank Holidays for 2015 and as its Easter I would like to wish ya'll a Hoppy (Easter Reference number one) Easter! And whilst I was banging on, and have been for a while now about my future travels and my itchy travel-bug bite, I have stayed at home in Blighty this Bank Holiday and spent the majority of it with the other half, AKA Mr. Warehouse, and some work colleagues, whom also happen to be Mr. Warehouse's friends and family. 

Friday was relaxingly entertaining as Mr. Warehouse and I walked his Golden Retriever in the nearby countryside that backs onto his home just outside Bedford. And so, after a very muddy and soaking-wet trip to the shore of the Lake watching the canine jump in and out of the water like a spawning salmon we all decided to call it a day. Once home we bathed the poor pup, soon settling into the sofa with our Chocolate Easter Eggs and a movie. Saturday Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to go and do some shopping but was hindered slightly by the fact that ever since the previous evening, Mr. Warehouse had been suffering from a tight chest and had barely slept throughout the night. Worried I knew it was an Asthma attack and begged him just to go to a doctors, albeit in vain. After picking up an inhaler we headed out, and returned later than evening from a hard days shopping and browsing to a wonderful Chinese take-away and a chance to meet Mr. Warehouse's Mom's new fella, whom seems nice and friendly, just what she needs, I think! 

Yesterday however was an experience, I have to say. Mr. Warehouse and I had been invited to what was in some way a Christening but was called a "Dedication" meaning that the child would be promised to god and when it was finally old enough to make it's own decision then it could choose whether to be baptised or not. In all fairness I think its a cracking (Easter Reference number two) idea. As a Christian I was brought up with my Grandparents teaching me about the ways of the lord, learning things at Sunday Schools and trips to Church when I stayed at my Nanna and Grandads the occasional weekend my parents wanted some "adult time" away from the kids, and I must say that in all the years I had gone to and been a rather insignificant member of the congregation, albeit a part nevertheless, I had always questioned and doubted the things I had been told were gospel. 

I think that in any respects of religion the science and fact of the twenty-first century outweighs the fables and folklore surrounding them. It is physically, not to mention completely inconceivable to part sea's, turn water into wine and give birth to the son of god whilst claiming to be a virgin still. I have tried turn water into wine, many times, and I have failed on all accounts. Maybe this is because I am not Jesus or god himself. Or maybe it is because they are simple tales to help people who were struggling in a time of upheaval, war and dictatorship. I am positive that like Syria, Iraq and other places in the middle east today, Jerusalem in year dot was not a nice place either. Tales and stories about a couple who was born of humble beginnings becoming the adoptive parents to the saviour of all mankind was something of fairytales. Miracles and adventures to follow the Bible, whilst some of it may be truthful of the time, the majority, in my eyes at least is fiction. I love the ideas that thousands of people can be fed by just a loaf of bread and a couple of fish or that out of everything endured somebody can rise from the dead but these seem to me ancient explanations for very simple life events. 

A man is murdered on a cross and buried in a tomb with a large boulder obstructing the entrance. In the days that follow the body of Christ is nowhere to be found and it is said he has risen again to help all of humanity. Question is science may have an explanation for this. In my mind it is plausible, and in maybe a small case possible, that the boulder was moved due to a shift in the ground such as an earthquake or tremor or even moved by hand. This in turn would open up the cave/tomb to thieves and looters of the time. I mean what was stopping someone getting rid of Jesus' corpse and posing as the Christ Almighty in order to gain fame and notoriety. God was maker of all so why did he not just create more saviours of the world once the only one he ceased existence. 

For example, I went to a funeral last year and all it seemed to be was God this and Jesus that. The focus I feel should be on the person in the box not a man who no-one has really seen. A funeral should be about mourning and celebrating a person and who they were and what they meant to people. A wedding should be about love and the coming together of two people with their families in order to make way for more family members in a stable home with a good, steady upbringing. A christening should be the celebration and joyful beginnings of a child's life. All these events that are held in the presence of the lord, usually in God's house should be about the here and now as well as the future to come, not about the past and how the moment and moments to come would never have happened if it weren't for the sacrificing of God's only son. Now don't get me wrong, I love the idea of a church wedding in the British sunshine and weekly trips on a Sunday morning to see friends and family as well as investing time into the community, but why can't you do that without Religion. Sing songs that are in the charts and that we all know the beat to, talk about issues in the local area that affect real people and praise the good of the world that we live in whilst making a difference to those to home. A church of people and a Religion of Community Spirit. 

Its not fact obviously but in my opinion the Christian religion, at least, is something worth questioning with the information, fact and science we know now. Truth is we will never know if the story of Easter is true, at least by all Christian accounts any way. Its a controversial opinion yes, and one you may disagree with but nevertheless an opinion I have. All I know is that the church I visited with friends and family on Sunday was not as heavy as some others I have attended and as a self-styled 'community church' it was as friendly and inviting as it possibly could be. Indeed, as I looked around sceptically at the church-goers on that bright Sunday morning I saw hope and positivity. Old people that had come and donated their time and money towards something they believed in, a cause for helping others as well as an excuse to get out of the house once a week and meet up with some old faces over a cuppa and a Rich Tea. In their wrinkles I saw lives that had been lived fully, tragedy and joy endured and not all in equal measures. They were living for something. People from all walks in life, old and young, disabled and abled, poor and well-off - This is what they believed in and had faith with someone from a story book written hundreds of years ago. But most of all it made them happy. As the singing came to a close and the ceremony over with I noted the peacefully nature of the place and the smiles and grins on the faces of all who left. It then dawned on me as I looked over at the children's reading books in the corner - Religion is no different than Cinderella or Snow White. Difference is that whether you are a follower of it or not, without it the world would be a very, very different place indeed ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx