What happens on Stag ...

Afternoon All, 

Last weekend I indulged in a relaxing weekend of spa's, supper, and shots, but now it was the Stag's turn. Talk was established early on, as it normally is about the stag do and hen do, and Mr. Warehouse and I were no exception. The future Hubby has never really been the centre of attention and so having him being the limelight was his idea of his worst nightmare. So when his older brother (who gets hitched just four weeks before we do) suggested a joint one. Considering that they would have literally been inviting all the same friends and family, it made sense. It also meant the pressure was off of one brother or the other and hopefully would be distributed evenly the pranks and stitch-ups.

And so the moment soon came round as Mr. Warehouse packed up his suitcase with fresh creps and clobber. I was pleased we had even just reached this stage of wedding planning to the point he can enjoy his stag do. It meant that we were a little closer to our special day. Sadly though the relaxing nature of our girls away weekend the week before would not necessarily be happening as there was plenty of DIYs and wedding stationery that needed doing.

I can't lie though, I was a little anxious about my fiance heading off for a boys weekend jam-packed with activities. A typical stag-do of course meant a trip to a strip joint or gentleman's club, of which there is actually a difference (Mr Warehouse explained it as plainly as a strip joint is just that whereas a gentleman's club you can pay for "extras"), still not making me feel any easier about the plans. But I didn't want him to worry or think I was being a psycho bitch of a future wifey, so I tried in-vain to play it cool.

A BuzzFeed article written by an American called James details it perfectly, and most of it seems odd to him and he's a yank. Aside's from the obvious it was quite a good read, but I feel as though some things were just not touched upon. The dressing up - OK yeah I get it. The pranks, dare's and rowdy drunken behaviour - Fair enough. But I don't think it told the whole story of what actually happens on a stag do's. Cosmo to the rescue! The article from the popular women's magazine details that just the mentioning of the words 'stag weekend' and brides to be are filled with fear. But it's not just the girls about to tie the knot who worry – it's any girl whose man is set to disappear for the weekend to celebrate their mate's last night of freedom.

One brave guy, unnamed in the article detailed how he ended up going to a strip club. "I don't know the reason behind why we went, but I guess it's what most stag dos end up doing. Unless the stag is a doctor, it'll be the last time he'll see a woman – other than his wife to be naked." Claiming that not a lot actually happened when in the strip club (a likely story I think not young sir!) the mystery man concluded simply by confirming what women already know; That most men are lazy stating that the "lap dancers spoke to us, trying to get us to have a private dance but I just think guys like going because they know that girls will flirt with them and they don't have to try even though they know the girls are only doing it for the money."

I don't mind Mr. Warehouse going to strip clubs or seeing boobs or fannies. but what I draw a line at is being unfaithful. I suppose for me, in my heart of hearts I knew my other half would never do anything like that, it still didn't stop me from wondering or having thoughts about what would happen if he did and what life would be like in the aftermath. Even despite me being very secure in my relationship and not the needy, insecure, or self-conscience type that (usually because of poor treatment from other men and relationships) needs the constant reassurance and compliments of their partner, I still had a wobble and a few times had to check in to know we're OK as a couple - And maybe to remind my Beau of how good he has it here!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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Blood Makes You Related, Love Makes You A Family

Hello,

Waking up on Saturday morning was probably the most relaxed I think I have had any morning waking up in my new home thus far. The last week or two had been strained to say the least and contributed to me losing my bag a few times with Mr Warehouse. Still in a bit of pain I was dropping him to work and picking him up every day which was starting to grate on me without having any of my own free time. Nevertheless a weekend away from it all and a quick calculation of our first mortgage payment and few bills that are coming in make it look and feel as though things will not be as tight as initially thought in the first few months of home ownership. Whilst I may well be math's dyslexic I am however quite good with working out financially whether something is a viable option or not, especially so when looking at our savings for the house and now going forward for the wedding. 

Hearing my fiance watching TV downstairs probably with the dog by his side made me grin with happiness as I rolled over to welcome in the brightness from outside. Now that is not to say that Saturday was at all a gloriously sunny or beautiful day for weather. If anything it was Far flung from that and was overcast, grey, drizzly and quite windy. Perfect weather for a Gazebo! Knowing that Mr Warehouse had probably silenced my alarms a few hours ago it was certainly time to get out of bed. Trundling down the stairs, still in my pyjamas and rubbing my eyes and waking myself up along every step, I wondered about coffee, only to hear the Bae call in from the lounge down the hallway that he put the kettle on a few moments ago anticipating my arrival. Such a sweetie! I think that the only way this morning could have possibly been any better is if he had brought it to me in bed. But today was not a day for lounging around in your duvet with a coffee in hand. Oh No! Today was the day that it finally felt all so real. I was engaged. I was a home-owner. And I was about to celebrate it all with the ones I loved most. 

Rushing around like a headless chicken, Mr. Warehouse and I didn't even stop for a cuppa or breakfast, soldiering through to put up the gazebo, lay out food, make the house presentable and decorate for a party! As the afternoon broke, we had our first guests, Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee. Unfortunately Miss Tweedle-Dee already had prior commitments with her cousins and so was unable to make it but I was so glad when her parents turned up to warm us into our new home as our first proper guests. Showing them round they kept saying how proud they were of me and also of my fiance and how lovely it all was. 

Soon after the next set of guests arrived, my Auntie and eldest cousin. Again the house tour began and after about the third or fourth I was glad for Mr Warehouse to take over a little with the hostessing as I mingled with our house now full of guests. "OK so maybe a few too many invites went out" I thought as I pondered what would have happened if more of the people who were meant to come had not of dropped out. Where would they go?! Probably that gazebo! Door goes again and I think about how I swear there was a TV comedy sketch show about doors constantly going and people piling on in. Regardless I welcomed them all in, Nana's, Uncles, Aunties, Cousins and friends. 

As the afternoon worn on so did the guests, and with every glass of Prosecco Mr. Warehouse topped me up with the more fuzzy I felt. Most of my side of the family stayed, a good majority of the afternoon and into the evening, mingling and chatting with each other and catching up after the more somber occasion of my grandfathers funeral earlier in the year. Taking a look around I was overwhelmed, as I always am with how many people really do love and support me. No matter what I do, or say or don't do even, they all love me unconditionally. Regardless of their opinions on what I wear or how I conduct my life they accept me for who I am and love and support me no matter what. That is truely what family is. Coming together to celebrate the good and comfort in the bad. It was at that moment I knew that I was content, at least for the time being and that I in a way had officially "made it". Out of everything that I have and are going through, I can honestly say that the hard work has paid off. Time to relax into our new home in time for Christmas ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Magnets, Gold and Bubbles - All in the Name of Beauty!

Hello, 

Surely I can't be the only one that feels like today has been ever so long for a Monday. So busy. So many calls. So many issues. So many things to do. My weekend feels like it was years ago! Oh good lord send me back. It started well as after healthy eating I weighed myself in for the first time in months after initially starting my diet-that's-not-a-diet. And I lost! Half a stone, so not huge amounts but a great start and has really spurred me on. With the week I had as well what with visiting Cadbury's World and then having chocolate cake every day after dinner as Mr. Warehouse bought us a serves-sixteen massive chocolate cake. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I actually made the effort. 

Anyway after an early start seeing Mr. Warehouse off to Eurogamer EGX in Birmingham with Mr. CWG, I headed home and revelled in having the bed back all to myself as I slumbered until mid-morning, snoozing with the dog, watching pointless Youtube videos on crap and snuggling alone! People have often asked what Eurogamer EGX is and from what I know (which isn't much since I have never been) is basically a convention for all the new games that are coming out in the next few months on the count down to Christmas! The classics were all there including Call of Duty, FIFA and Far Cry as well as the smaller lesser known games that are attempting to break into the hard market of gamer-pleasure. As well as the host of games on offer there is also a abundance of talks discussions and places to buy merchandise from brands and gamer's themselves who are well established on Youtube, Twitch and other gaming networks. A small part of the event from what I have heard is of Comic Con also plays a large part in the day with people from all walks of life dressing up in everything from Manga and Anime to Pokemon and other gaming characters. What is slightly off putting for myself would be the fact that whilst you are playing your game, after waiting potentially anywhere up to four-hours or more, that other people are staring at you, literally face up against the glass watching you play a game. Weird if you ask me. 

Back to my comfy bed all to myself, but alas I had to get up, for I needed to be at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house ready for a night of pampering. But first I caught up on some telly and took pooch for a nice long walk in a local park and nature spot. After our walk I thought that in the good spirit of it nearly being Halloween I would head into town and look at some of the charity shops in order to try and piece together an outfit or at least get some sort of inspiration for what myself and Mr. Warehouse would be going as. In the next six weeks we have three fancy dress parties to go to, an eighties theme, a nineties theme and a Halloween one. Normally by this time of the year in late September I am all set and ready for Halloween with an outfit planned already, however this year I am again leaving it till last minute it would seem with the eighties themed party less than a fortnight away. 

With town centre charity shops being a let down I figured I should maybe just head down to "Home" early and maybe pop in to see some family whilst I'm there. Having a catch-up with my Auntie and Uncle is always cathartic as it makes me realise just how far I have come from the scared little 17 year old that ended up living with them all those many moons ago. And my cousins are growing up ever so fast too, the eldest nearly the same height as me?! Jumping back in the car I took the normal route I would through the winding streets and villages surrounding my home ground to Miss Tweedle-Dee's. Suddenly it hit me, Vivienne and I whizzing through the meadows. If my life had a not have taken the term that it did all those years ago, if my father didn't have an affair, if parents didn't divorce and if I had gone to Uni, I could be still taking this route home after visiting my Auntie, Uncle and Cousins to my old family home where I spent most my childhood, maybe to have dinner or maybe to get ready for a night out on the tiles. Maybe we as a family would be meeting my Brother's girlfriend for the first time or maybe I would be the one bringing home a boy! As surreal as it was I soon snapped out of it and wondered would I be there person I am now today? No I would probably be even more entitled than I think I am, with an additional side order of arrogance and sass. I would be the princess of my family and rule the roost as such being the only niece, daughter, sister and granddaughter. 

Arriving at Miss Tweedle-Dee's we all settled in for a night of wine, pizza and pampering. Starting off with make-up I started out with a sexy smokey eye and vampy Halloween lips, however I then found some glittery blue eye stuffs and before I knew it I looked like a man in drag. Wiping it off and resetting our faces we began the detox that was starting with a bubble face mask. Now for those of you that have been hiding under a rock or just avoiding Instagram for the last year or so, bubble face mask's are the latest time to hit the beauty industry from our good friends over in the east. Applying the creamy yet gooey consistency to your face, watch as your face starts to tingle and almost feels as though you have popping candy on you. After a few moments you will start to see small bubbles appear on the surface where the cream once was and in time your face or blow up to look like a massive Storm Cloud complete with chipmunk cheeks and poofy features. 

Cleansing afterwards we then all tried what I thought personally was the best beauty treatment yet. Magnetic Face Masks and T-Zone cleaners. Applying either all over your face or alternatively in areas where you feel there may be more toxins than others such as the t-zone, on your nose, forehead, cheeks or chin. Letting it sit and absorb the toxins from your pores a while later you can grab a hold of the magnet that the product comes with and gently rub it over the skin and without actually making contact with the covered area you will see and feel how it just pulls it away from your face, attracting the product back. This is 100% something I will be adding to my Christmas list this yeah and definitely would recommend it to anyone. 

Heading to bed, tired and sleepy, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Momma-Dee and others all agreed will certainly be doing that again for sure, Oooh, just think of the Christmas looks we could all do on each other with make-up and nails as well as what new fad face thing comes out. Maybe next time we'll even ramp it up with a Lazy-Boy spa for the weekend! Ahh Bliss ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Cluck! Cluck!

Evening, 

Racing home from work I hurried to get ready. This was something I couldn't be late for. One of my new work colleagues (or not so new because lets be honest I have been working there for like six-months) is getting married in a matter of weeks and as an absolute surprise all the ladies in the office have got together to give her a right good old send off. I'm glad for it in all honesty since there was a time not so long ago that I felt a little left out on plans everyone made in the office. 

The Plan? Nice sit down meal with great food and then on for some cocktails after that. I have come to discover that this is somewhat a standard night out with my "new" work friends. Its definitely more sophisticated to what I was usually used to back when I used to work with Miss Hackney, Mr. CWG, Mr. Warehouse and Co. Usually we would start in The Rose, a Pub/Bar on the main High Street and then progress two-doors up to something not a lot classier. Same sticky floors I remembered in college gives me the comfort I need when the balls of your feet are stinging from the skyscrapers you decided were a good idea several hours ago. All of this would be topped off with some heavy flirting (And even some petting from others I as out with), dancing until the lights come on (Or we were kicked out) and a Subway for the short walk home. Oh how I missed those nights where I could pretend to be in my late teens again without a care in the world and with some f the best people on the planet I know. 

All of that seemed a world away as we sat down to our meal, Bride-to-Be surprised to the point of tears when she walked in to find us awaiting her. After the meal was finished we headed to the Cocktail Bar, loosing few faces along the way. The Auction Room is honest to god a slice of London's Soho brought to Bedford - Including the 'effing price too. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the sophisticated atmosphere and how grown up everyone is, but a little part of me knows that I will never have to sneak off for a tactical chunder whilst in there. Most of what cocktails are made of is good for you anyway right? Juices, fruit puree and fresh berries on top ... surely that has to count as one of your five-a-day?

Following an incident with some gentleman (if you can even call them that) the Hen Party and I decided to leave the pricey cocktail house. It would have appeared that when younger, sillier boys who are still in the WDK phases of nights out on the lash find a Hen Party they just can't help themselves. Tugging on our hair and yanking our sashes back that we were wearing with pride, these Dicks had no respect for women or for their last night (Or fort-night in this instance). It started I am sure, in a playful manner, not meant t annoy or offend. But it escalated quickly. After the fat chick (yes that's me I'm describing) tried to dance and flirt with them I thought it would put them off, all the other lads laughing 'cas chunky wanted a bit of the hot, young 'D'. Obviously not (Although in my head I am thinking "YES! Still got it!" when it was quite clear I never truly 'had it' in the first place)! I then tried protecting the Bride-to-Be and our Hen's with some serious awkward dancing. Nope - Still not working! And then, just as the rough play had gotten too much I decided to pull one of my last cards out of the bag ... The small willy Gag. Symbolizing the international sign for small wiener everywhere, I donned my pinkie-finger and began to action it towards what appeared to be the ring leader, again in attempt to ward off and embarrass him and his friends enough to piss off and stop harassing us like flies to shit. I wasn't to worry though for no sooner than the shocked faces and gaffaued laughter had exploded from the girls I was with it all broke down again, nearly ending with the Bride-to-Be in a punch-up of her own!

Heading for somewhere more reasonably priced it was the George & Dragon next which I kept referring to as D&G - Of which it was far from. Moments after stepping inside though I was faced with a dilemma that was all too familiar to me. After a tap on my shoulder I turned around, only to be greeted by Miss Hackney herself, along with  Miss Sugarcoat and a couple of other friends of theirs. I looked over to the bar and saw my new work colleagues, beckoning me over with the tempting liquor of a Screwdriver - A staple of my night out! Again I was face with the decision of staying with friends and good company (Not that the Hen Party was not of course) or stay loyal to my new work buddies and bid Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat a farewell. 

OK making it way more emotional that it sounds right now, but at the time I had a lot to drink and I was certainly feeling it enough to make a few hastily typed messages to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat asking them where they had disappeared to and if it was even all real? Was it an epiphany that I had seen them whilst blind drunk on a Hen Do?! No it turned out it was real, just they had moved on to the next sticky-floored venue in town. Suffice to say that my Friday night was eventful and I am glad to say that I am happy to be a part of a group that enjoys a messy night out, even if it starts in a slightly classier way. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Buy Less, Choose Well, Make It Last: A Quote From Vivienne Westwood

Hellooo, 

Last week, along with announcing that I had a new job to go to, which I will be starting this time next week (Eek!) but also that I had taken my driving test for the second time. Driving up to the test centre I was nervous about the 'Show Me Tell Me' questions as I had not practised them much on the run up as I had before, but other than that I felt very confident about taking my test again. 

Sitting in the waiting area again I was anxious to get going. Seeing my previous driving examiner readying another candidate I was saddened that my learning-to-drive journey would not end with being passed by the same examiner that failed me first time around. Nevertheless I awaited my name to be called and introduced myself when the time came. An elderly gentleman with a large mole or birth mark on his face I was ready to show him what I was made of and hopefully impress him enough to give me that coveted pink drivers licence was so desperate to have. Sitting in the car, ready to go I was determined this would be the last time I have to do this. I needed to pass. Failure was honestly not an option. Halloween was merely a few weeks away and the stingy part of me did not want to shell out in cab fares back and fourth from Bedford to Mr. Warehouse's Cousin's party in nearby Stewartby.

Heading out of the test centre we took a route unfamiliar to myself, but I carried through and before I knew it my time was almost up. Pulling up on a residential road I had already managed some tricky junctions, manoeuvres and traffic situations. Now it was time for my independent driving; A full ten-minutes of silence from everyone in the car whilst I adhered to the already pre-instructed route back to the test centre. Again I was asked to take the route that had failed me last time. Taking it away I put the motions into place and headed out towards the A421 taking directions for Cambridge and the north. Although coming up to a roundabout I was approaching with caution due to an Audi driver not signalling off. As a result I had not noticed I had been driving in the chevron area for some time and it was only now, as I mounted the curb on the island approaching the roundabout that I realised my faults. 

Managing my way around the junction and out onto the cross roads that stung me last time I was sure not to make the same mistake twice, coming up to the junction to stop, look and then ace pulling out into the steadily moving traffic. Heading back to the test centre now I was confident it had been a great drive, maybe one of my best but the fact that I had mounted the curb had thrown me slightly. "If I have failed at that point again I will be really upset and angry with myself. Twelve minutes that's all it is. Twelve minutes from home at the test centre!" I said internally as I exited the slip road and headed towards Cardington. Driving up the winding lanes I was hoping for success and as I pulled my faithful Beema into the parking space I held my breath slightly in anticipation of the news. 

"So I am pleased to tell you that you have passed your driving test" said the examiner, a smiling yet concerned look on his wrinkled face. 
"You mounted the curb back there and in all fairness whilst it was some good driving, most of the five minors you have encountered are for steering or steering related" he continued as my mind drifted off to thoughts of buying a car and what I would tell friends, family and co-workers. 
"You need to make sure you pay more attention and maybe consider taking lessons to counteract your steering issues I have highlighted" my examiner said as I beamed with excitement. Bidding farewell I exited the BMW and shaking, sat in the passengers seat as my instructor took to the wheel to drive me to work. 

The journey back to work was a quick one, passing in a blur of advice and practical knowledge from my instructor whom six-months earlier was just a stranger. Pulling into the car park I was slightly late arriving at just gone ten-in-the-morning. Seeing Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat having a cheeky mid-morning cigarette I saw them trying to read my face as I got out of the car. Thanking my instructor I collected my bag and coat, shaking with my certificate I walked over to where my work colleagues were standing. Shaking my head I heard the sympathies of failing again. That was until I pulled out my pass certificate yelling "Look what I found!?"

Screams and jeers followed in the wake of my announcement, other colleagues peering out of windows and asking if I had passed. Holding up my certificate like a scene from Lion King ("Ha-Min-Yah" and all that malarkey) I was proud as punch. Is this what becoming a parent feels like? Maybe? Who knows? Who cares? I mounted the curb during my driving test and somehow still passed?! I was buzzing. I think I spent most of the rest of the day being congratulated and asked about my test and how it all went. A part of me really started to question why I was leaving when this felt so much like home and family. 

Nevertheless the week continued to drag and as the end of the week was in sight I started to scout out some cars at local reputable dealerships. Taking public transport to a dealership on Saturday I had my heart set on a little orange Ford Fiesta. It is an eleven-plate, five-door hatchback with a 1.4 engine and with its high specification including a multifunctional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors it was certainly a thing of beauty. Small enough for little old me and big enough for the Doggy and other half during road-trips I was certainly excited to test drive the autumnal-coloured runabout and even more anxious to hear about what packaged I could choose from. 

I will be financing the car, and whilst I did consider a brand spanking new motor, the fact that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt was a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new. With one previous owner, no noticeable damage or scratches to her paintwork and a clean interior she was perfect. Yes my car is a she and because it is a female, my little tangerine-coloured car will be called Vivienne, after the flame-haired fashionista that is Vivienne Westwood. I think it fits and I have since found out from Mr. CWG that in actual fact the Ford Fiesta does not come as standard with that colouring and the previous owner must have paid a good deal of money for a paint job as good as what my Viv got. A special one of a kind you might say. Unique - Just like her owner! I am certainly eagar to collect her as soon as possible and it was due to be tonight after I finished work, but with the financial approver being off sick yesterday and today, it is looking like the earliest date Vivienne can come home will be Thursday at earliest. Between now and then I need to barter for a good insurance deal, buy my annual road tax and pick up some screen wash and other car bits to make her look and smell as pretty as a peach in summer.

Phhew! Some serious Adulting has been done recently; New Job, Newly aquired driving liecence and a successful application for car finance. Hopefully next week I can let you know how Vivienne is settling into her new home and how we get along as newly associated BFF's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Another Chapter Done ...

Hey Hey, 

What a week. Could I cram any more in? Me thinks not. But I will sure as hell give it a good go this week as well. I should probably explain myself really shouldn't I?

At Lunch last Monday, discussion turned to how rough I looked leaving the Friday beforehand, all in haste with a cup under my chin to catch any vomit and a taxi-cab awaiting me I was certainly far from feeling my perky self. Still not feeling great I knew I would have to come back to work at some point, and there is only so much lolling around on the couch that one can do when ill. So there I was, in the canteen I had come to know and love. A real home from home. I had encountered my first flings with Mr. Warehouse in that room, a few near arguments with others and even a rare heart to heart with Mr. CWG. 

But now my conversations with Mr. CWG were more job related and as such were directed at a position that had become available literally across the road from our Depot in Kempston. You see, Mr. CWG drinks with the owner of the establishment in his Local in Marston Mortaine, and just so happened to mention that they were recruiting for a position similar to what I am doing now as a Service Desk Coordinator for a security and alarms company. Taking the opportunity, I called the offices and asked for some more details. Twenty-minutes or so later I had sent over my CV and by the end of the day they had asked me to come in for a chat after work. Not expecting this at all I trundled over the road after finishing work, hoping no-one from my office would notice and enquire as to where I was going. Thinking it was just a chat I hadn't braced myself for a full blown interview in the offices. I aced it, and despite my deepest apologies for being still slightly infected and wearing Black Button UGG Boots to an interview I didn't know was an interview, less than forty-eight-hours later they offered me the job. 

Dumbfounded I just stared at my screen on Wednesday afternoon, unable to speak. What had I done!? Suddenly I felt my legs become jelly and my stomach drop out of my belly. Was I about to do this? Looking through the contract they had sent over I quickly worked out that the salary would mean I would be better off by about seventy British pounds every month. "But was that enough? Was it worth it? Was it really deserving of leaving all of this behind?" I thought to myself. Immediately I called Mr. Warehouse and as soon as he answered he said what I wanted to tell him. It was like he could read my mind or something. Weirdo! However the boyfriend was less than useful when it came to discussing what I was going to do and how my options now looked. My dearest Mr. Warehouse is not one for talking things through and would have probably rather me just drop it in conversation along the lines of "So this weekend we are doing this and that weekend were somewhere else and Oh I got a new job and did you know were fresh out of Ketchup?"

Confused I called my Dad that night, hoping I might be able to get some more sense from him. Slightly better than Mr. Warehouse, my Dad was positive and I took away from our conversation that no matter how much I had been belittled, patronised and scrutinised throughout the last few months - I still had it. Although ever the realist Dad proposed the facts that I needed to really consider. What happens if I get sacked? What happens if I don't like it? What happens if I can't do it? All these things running through my head, coupled with the mere fact that seventy-quid is not a lot of money to leave a permanent job role I have been cushy in for over two-and-a-half-years I was seriously frazzled. But my early night made no impact on how I felt and whilst the morning always brings with it a new light to see something in, I was severely tired and needed to start thinking quickly about what my decision would be. 

Speaking with yet more close friends and family including Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat (yet another close work colleague I have yet to introduce you all too), the reoccurring subject line was that whilst the money was not great in terms of moving, seventy-pounds a month extra was still an extra seventy-pounds a month I didn't have last week and wont have next week. The thesis was that if I was unable to progress where I was in earning more money or more responsibility to be taken more seriously then it should be time to move. I had been considering it for a long while and with the current situation I found myself in I couldn't think of a better time to make the leap. 

Besides I had always said to myself there was never any point in learning to drive whilst I was at my old job, simply because affording a car and living alone, or even with someone would be a stretch if not impossible to do. I enjoyed my luxuries too much and I suppose with this new move I can not only afford the lifestyle I love so much, but also keep up with a car as well. The opportunities are endless and as Miss Sugarcoat put it herself - I am full worth the twenty-four-plus annual salary I am asking for, but it would seem a little odd to go form earning just under eighteen to another five-thousand-pounds a year in one jump. I need to make baby steps and work my way up to a salary I can not only live comfortably and happily on, but also a salary I can start to build a future on, a family and a home life. 

But on the other hand it will be ever so devastating when I do go. As I said at the top of this weeks post, its my home from home. So much has changed since I walked through those doors in April 2013. It was where I saw out my last days with Mr. Cheese (so glad you could make it, long time no see), went on to have some awful dates including Mr. Rockclimber, Mr. Krusty and countless other Mr's that didn't make the grade. Mere months into my probation period I met Mr. Warehouse and from then onwards spent many, many a dark rainy night cuddling in the canteen, away from the prying eyes of his family whom he worked alongside. Our love blossomed in those walls, out from the tea stained floors and breeze block walls came something that I now cherish so deep. Not only that but I have all my work family there and all the wonderful people that I see sometimes not for weeks or months at a time but all in the knowledge that I honestly love them all. Crazy cousins from sales, my office sharing sisters-from-other-misters, weird uncles from other divisions and even my embarrassing office Dad and Grandad. 

I will miss everyone so, so much. Miss Sugarcoat and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy all but to name only a few. Some of whom I never spoke about on my Blog and others I am glad frankly to see the back of. My engineers whom I deal with on a daily basis, calling up and handing out jobs, asking how the wife and the kids are, sending out Birthday and Christmas cards, sending treats at Easter and Christmas also, all in which I have got to know so very, very well. Even my sales reps, who annoy the fucks out of me on an almost weekly basis, some more than others of course. Again I have wheedled my way into their lives as they have with mine, sharing in every detail of their holidays, families and moments, good and bad. All of them will be missed though, for we are a little family, a unit and a force to be reckoned with on a night out! Speaking of which ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Battle of the Vom!

Evening All,

So after last week's dreamy slumber, I am most definitely back in the reality of Blighty. I would say I am enjoying life as I know it but with the last couple of weekends being spent puking and poorly inside the flat, I haven't had much opportunity to venture outside and explore apart from my morning commute. 

It all started last Saturday when I went out for a lovely brunch with my Auntie and Grandma from my Mother's side. With my pre-teen cousin in toe I soon felt a whole lot older as he started to "Dab" his way through his iPod in the middle of Sainsburys. Nevertheless getting home afterwards I made myself some lunch and, with Mr. Warehouse away with Mr. CWG at a gamers convention in Birmingham, I looked forward to an afternoon of catching up on shite TV. Crunching down my Tivo Box I suddenly started to feel a pain in my stomach. It was almost how I would imagine a stomach cramp or period pain to be, but as the afternoon continued and the evening set in it got worse. By the time Mr. Warehouse had arrived home I was bent over, crippled with the pain in my abdomen. Taking a couple of paracetamol I curled up on the couch and watched some Saturday night telly, but after being violently sick numerous times, I finally fell asleep on my boyfriends lap before being carried to bed. 

Waking a few times throughout the night to be sick again I was still exhausted when the sun broke through our window. Although feeling much better I put it down to maybe eating some dodgey chicken, out of date milk or just a twenty-four hour bug. Feeling much better I thought nothing of it and continued to work the following day. With the working week dragging by in a haze of things to do, office gossip and chitter-chatter we were all finally at Friday. And up until then I was looking forward to the weekend. Mr. Warehouse's brother was taking his fiance out for a birthday meal and wanted us to look after the kids; a six-year-old, four-year-old and a four-month-old baby. We had happily obliged (There was a takeaway in it for Mr. Warehouse and I ... We're not stupid haha) and I was actually looking forward to a weekend playing Momma's and Dadda's. I had already started to carve out my leading role as bad cop and designated an area for naughty little ones, whereas Mr. Warehouse had firmly got into his role by supplying our cupboards with chocolate and sweeties! 

But after I returned from lunch on Friday afternoon I felt an all too familiar twinge in my stomach again. The cramping had started again. Looking at the clock and seeing it was gone half-one in the afternoon I considered my options. "There is only a couple of hours left in the working day, just make it to four-thirty and then you go straight to the doctors, you hear me!" I told myself, egging me on. It didn't work. Within a few hours I was falling apart. I had been sick in the toilets, multiple times. So much so there was now nothing left to come up, resulting in a lurid yellow bile consisting of stomach acid and not much more. As I returned to my desk, mascara awry and nice 'Friday' hair now in a messy bun I didn't need my work colleagues to tell me I looked rough. I felt it. Finding my manager downstairs I ushered him over and explained I had to go home after being sick. I didn't want anyone else to get it if it was serious and in all fairness, I knew I couldn't answer the phone and vom at the same time. 

Calling a cab and waiting the half-hour or so for it to arrive was excruciating. It seemed like every time I wretched it made it worse, adding to the already tight and tense muscles in my abdomen. I felt as if I was giving myself a six pack, which of course would be very difficult since I was a size 18/20. Getting into the cab I closed my eyes hoping that the journey would be swift. It was not. "This is certainly not the fucking time Taxi-Cab Man to be giving me a sceneic tour of the Bedfordshire countryside surrounding Kempston and Bromham!" I thought to myself as I opened my eyes for a second to make sure the cup I had "borrowed" from the canteen was in place for any "spills". Concerned, the Taxi-Cab driver asked if I was OK but with all patience lost I exclaimed, louder than I probably needed to:
"I would be if I wasn't throwing up into a cup in the back of an already late taxi en route to the Doctors because I think, I have come down with an fatal case of Gastroenteritis! Now unless you want this stomach smoothie all over your seats I suggest you put your foot down!"

Arriving at the doctors, barely able to walk without puking I fell into the arms of my awaiting boyfriend. Staggering to the front desk I checked myself in a I think I must have fallen asleep on Mr. Warehouse as it seemed very quick I was seen. Into the doctors office-room-place I sat, still with half of a boots counter running off my chin, my hair in a Mrs. Trunchbull bun and sick probably down myself I was certainly far from last weeks "Girl I would want to marry" I thought. Examining me from top to tootsies the brilliant lady nurse diagnosed me with having a viral infection and because I studied in my Science and History of Medicine classes I knew that the only way I would be getting better would be rest, pain relief and sleep. I had probably just had a second bout of it after Saturday since my immune system was low and had been attacked once more. Leaving the surgery, I was given a bedpan-thing to be sick into and a box of tissues. Boarding the bus I must have looked a fucking state. So I chose to sit next to the prettiest girl and make myself look a little better, all whilst trying to infect someone skinnier than me. Bitch!

Getting home I was hoofed into bed by my dear Mr. Warehouse and told to sleep. But after periodic snoozes, retching and violent vomiting fits, I couldn't wait until morning broke and I could shake this all off. Waking the following morning on Saturday with very little sleep behind me and a bucket of proof at the edge of the bed I tried to carry on as normal, nibbling at things and drinking plenty. I snoozed most of the day and felt much better by late-afternoon. I didn't want to let down Mr. Warehouse's brother and the children as they were looking forward to coming over to see their Uncles house as much as we were looking forward to hosting them, so I kept quiet about my episodes the evening before. But, spending the night curled up on the sofa, Kiddies half asleep and baby napping too, it was the perfect evening and much better than what I was anticipating. Bad cop didn't even have to rear its head. Well, at least until the children went home! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx