Love is infectious ... but so is Coronavirus!

Heyy, 

Pressing send I knew it was official. There was no coming back from it or pretending this wasn't happening. Certainly, no going back the idea, I was positive that the next few days and weeks, explaining the story over and over again would get tiring, however no more tiring than what Mr Warehouse and I were going through. 

Coming back from Newquay and our Cornwall adventures had not been easy and with Boris' new announcement released last week which finally included some information on the hundreds of thousands of couples due to be getting married this year, still hadn't helped us muddle through the mess of trying to wed in 2020.

Drafted on the basis of the all-important and rather elusive scientific evidence, since 4 July in England weddings can now take place with up to 30 guests and from 1 August, "small wedding receptions will be able to take place" the UK Government announced. For us however crunching the numbers it, in short, meant no singing, no choir (namely in our circumstances due to age and health issues which would consider them in a COVID-vulnerable category, not to mention being unable to learn 2 new songs by the time our day rolled around). It also means for us that it would not even be 30 people as we need to include in that group our photographer, videographer, Reverand and at least 2 witnesses. It gets even worse when you start to think about the "reception" (if you can even call it that more like a glorified dinner out) and again we would need to include photographer, videographer, bar staff & waiting staff, taking our total down to even less. We calculated just 19 people could come to our special day.  

Arriving at the church Mr Warehouse and I was excited to see the Reverand again and chat wedding stuff. However, on walking in we instantly noticed the socially distanced chairs, podded up in pairs. There was no aisle. There were no flowers. There was just a coldness to it all. Seating ourselves we caught up on small talk before heading into the nitty-gritty of it all. Discussing through the options available to us it very quickly dawned on me that our conversations would not be based on flowers and readings. 

"I know this is a shock to see the church this way," the Reverand started, "however I wanted you to see it as it stands now, with no more restrictions being lifted what the absolute worst-case scenario looks like." I felt panicked. I now had to be a big girl and face what I had been dreading for months. Along with Mr Warehouse I agreed and admitted that for far too long maybe now I have been burying my head in the sand and pretending it will all blow over, all whilst in the double knowledge that within the next few weeks we would need to be having this chat anyway. 

As Mr Warehouse spoke of guests and the meaning of the wedding to him he touched on a point that had nearly set me off crying. I was close but held it back as my future husband asked openly if I would have been OK with the photos and wedding film of our special day just including twenty pairs of eyes, masks and a socially distanced congregation. Holding it together (just about) I thought about what that would look like and for the hundreds of pounds we were spending on capturing our day I didn't like the idea of looking back on them and watching the footage crying sad tears over happy ones because of the circumstances. 

"May I say a prayer for you both?" the Reverand asked. Again agreeing (because what else are you meant to do we were asking to get married in this ladies office, God's house - And to be fair, we needed every damned prayer we could get) we bowed our heads and Mr Warehouse even put his hands together. 

As the Reverand started I could hear in her voice the searching for positive words and something to envoke encouragement and some sort of solace. But as she began to talk of strength through difficult times I knew I couldn't hold it in no more. Silently the tears started to fall from my cheeks, rolling down into my double-chin crease. "Pull yourself together women, there are many other reasons to cry in church; Weddings, Funerals, Christingal when you get an orange and all raisins - This is not one of them," I thought to myself, knowing any moment she would stop talking and I would have to look up and then everyone would know I had been crying. And when that happened it was like a biblical flood all by itself. 

Fetching a box of tissues, I was consoled by both the Reverand and Mr Warehouse as the waves of emotions drowned me. My fiance and I had to really start adulting and make some tough choices. 

"Now if this is what you are both happy with then I am happy but I would hate for you to wake up the morning after and think that you could have done it differently" the Reverand kindly finished with as she waved us out of the grounds with the suggestion of a bottle of the good stuff (I know a godly woman suggesting we drink?!) but with the next few days filled with more normal social activities and things to do that conversation would have to be put on ice. Driving home we both agreed to wait until Sunday and we could talk properly then with no disruptions or distractions. 

Sunday soon rolled around and after much deliberation (and nearly two-bottles of Rose in the local pub beer garden) we agreed that what we were asking for was too much for the government to lift restrictions too. For us to be happy to go ahead with our October 2020 wedding we would need the guest count goes up to above 80/80 (up to 80 for the ceremony and the same for a wedding breakfast) plus being allowed to have sing in church as well as an evening reception with DJ and disco. With this, we could have continued with the plans as they are, albeit on a reduced number of guests for our semi-normal COVID wedding. 

If we were to wait as we wanted to until the end of August to make our decision there was going to be no hen or stag do, and to be honest no real guarantee of the wedding we wanted and planned for. On further reflection of schools reopening, pubs and restaurants reopening, shops reopening and the dreaded face mask/covering debacle (hold out for another blog post on this one) all having their announcements pretty much 14-days before the due date it was something we just couldn't hold out that long for. 

And so it was with a heavy (and rather sozzled heart) that we took the decision to reach out to suppliers and vendors in anticipation of the foreboding announcement to ascertain the costs involved in postponing and what availability there was so Mr Warehouse and I could become more accustomed to a back-up date so as to not seem so catastrophically heartbreaking when we did have to make the ultimate decision. With most of our suppliers offering a range of dates, all of them pretty much had confirmed our suspicions that they would move us free of charge. In fact, many of them were honest enough to say that since we were one of the last bookings in their calendar for weddings this year, they had sadly been awaiting a call like this from us. With only our photographer able to do accommodate one date between March and September 2021 it made the choice easy to whittle down as there was little selection. 

And so the email has been sent, updates given, paperwork amended and contract redrafted. Postponement announcements in the post (as of tomorrow) wedding guests will be informed that my east favourite C-Word ruined our plans and that whilst shit happens ... Our new wedding date is June 2021!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Getting Hitched!

Hi everyone, 

Sitting there in the darkened corner of the dancefloor I watched as the bride and groom skitted across the parquet flooring watched by all their family and friends I thought about how that would be me one day. As Mr Warehouse sat beside me I could tell he too was getting emotional as their children joined them in their union to become a family once again and that was it. Hearts stopped! As my fiance and I joined the happy newlyweds on the dance floor surrounded by twinkling lights and disco music we thought about how our day would be. With less than eighteen months ago it was certainly whizzing by in a flash. 

What with Vivienne being a right off and getting a new car, as well as work and social life, planning our special day, was put slightly on the backburner and it had been some weeks since I had checked our emails. Having a little peak in the inbox I realised that we had yet to try and secure our caterer and after a meeting with him at the Stagsden Village Hall where we will have our reception and our wedding breakfast, we have yet to hear back from him. 

Mr Warehouse and I had indulged in wedding planning and had booked the bar, the ceremony and the reception venue. I had researched into the perfect dress and been to try quite a few on too. My fiance had looked into suits and I think we have a colour scheme in mind. The flower-girl has met her dress and demanded her shoes to match ( as it should) and the mother of the groom outfit has already been chosen. 

But there is still so much more left to plan. The wedding planning website "Hitched.co.uk" says that when it comes to wedding planning there’s no right or wrong way to do it. However, there is a simple way to organise your wedding planning tasks that’ll reduce your stress levels and ensure you actually enjoy this exciting time!

One of the websites top tips is to create a budget - And stick to it! Like most couples, we sat down together and had an open discussion about finances and realistically after buying a house and managing debts, how much we could both afford and how to save over the coming years and months. Unlike some newly engaged couples, we are not fortunate enough for our parents or other family members to help pay for the wedding, and I think to be fair I wouldn't want them getting involved financially as it becomes a bit too messy in terms of who is paying for what and when and how much. This is our special day and we will finance this on our own. 

When it comes to wedding inspo, "Hitched.co.uk" has got you covered with their helpful website and suggests making mood boards to gain a theme or style. There are so many sources of inspiration out there which can make everything a bit overwhelming sometimes, so I choose one medium and have stuck with it. You can’t beat Pinterest – it’s a great way to gather ideas and create boards for each aspect of your wedding. The great thing I love about Pinterest is that you can collect all of the table décor, dress, cake, photo ideas all in one place that takes your fancy, and I can share them with friends and family, although Mr Warehouse doesn't love it as much as I do. The social media platform comes into its own when getting closer to the big day as I can ping across ideas and thoughts to suppliers when the time comes for a better understanding of what I want and how I want it!

Another tip from the wedding planning website is that before the hunt for the venue begins, the Bride and Groom should sit down together and talk about what wanted from the wedding venue and this is certainly something we chose to do very early on in our wedding planning process. Nothing else could ah[[en until we found it. And so we searched and searched but nothing was perfect enough. Mr. Warehouse and I knew we needed somewhere fairly sizable as our wedding party would be at least seventy. We ideally wanted some outside space to enjoy the hopefully warm setting sun and space for the kids to exhaust themselves. A bonus would have been a separate area for dinner and dancing but not essential. A bar would have been nice as well as some additional space for a quiet moment whereas parking and accommodation nearby was a must. Luckily we found most of it all in the Stagsden Village Hall. 

Some more helpful advice from "Hitched.co.uk"  was about the wedding party and choosing well. Now I instantly knew who my bridesmaids would be and wanted to ask Mr. Warehouse Neice, the only little girl in both our families if she would like to be my flower girl. However, Mr Warehouse had a bit of a harder time choosing between his brothers as who would be Best Man and so just settled and chose both. My advice would be if you’re not sure then don’t feel rushed into your decision. Think carefully about who will be the best people to support you and your fiance on your special day and in the run-up to it.  You may also want to consider the cost as your bridal party will need outfits, bouquets, buttonholes and thank you gifts, so the more people you have, the more this could impact your budget.  They will be in your photo's on your mantlepiece forever so be sure to make a wise choice. 

There are so many more decisions to make, most of the ones I talked about both Mr. Warehouse and I have already done, and more. Here's hoping that the next few weeks I can get the catering sorted and maybe even onto some more exciting things!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Blues of Bank Holiday in Britain!

Howdy Ya'll, 

Sorry about that intro - Definitely been watching too much Teen Mom OG there! Little obsessed at the moment, especially with Caitlyn and Tyler's gorgeous wedding (Tyler had me in tears with that speech). Anyway! On with the show!

So with this weekend being a bank holiday in the UK you would have guessed I might be off on another adventure somewhere abroad or maybe living it up here in good old blightly with some pals, heading out to a farm or a theme park. Sadly to say I am poor. Slumdog Nill-ionaire that's what they call me! With another week until payday and already on my last few pennies, this weekend has been a frustrating mess of odds and sods dinners, household chores not getting done and catching up on good telly. Apart from collecting Mr. Warehouse's pooch on bank holiday Friday and getting her settled in, maybe the only highlight of my weekend otherwise was heading out with Mr. Warehouse and my other work colleagues to celebrate (or commiserate) the leaving of another member of staff in the sales department, a lovely gentleman with a sick sense of humour and a shark-like hairdo. 

By the time Mr. Warehouse and I had arrived at the first pub of the evening my feet were soaked from the pissing rain. And so, dress clinging to my body making me look like a boobalicious washed up seal, I headed to the bathroom in order to attempt a blow dry of both myself and my clothes. Sadly to say the shoes and my hair, of which I had spent some time on, was unsalvagable. Onwards and upwards I thought. Necking my Vodka and orange, vodka supplied from my house and carried in a handbag, we headed onto the next place - A high end, extortionately priced cocktail bar, The Auction Room, away from the strip of Bedford town centre. "Alright for some," I thought, wondering how much my colleagues had been paid that day, all in the knowledge that it was another eight-days before my money would hit my account!

Getting a cheap bottle of Cider, I joined my other half and friends over on some plush sofa's whilst we sipped our drinks and made small talk. I took a moment to notice our surroundings and revelled in the fact that last time I was here I was with Mr. Cheese and company. Now I was with work colleagues, some of which looked very comfortable together. Very, very comfortable indeed! Putting it down to alcohol it wasn't until later that some of these feelings towards certain people was very much unappreciated and in a polite way, a gropingly vulgar
nuisance to both the recipient and others whose distaste for such thing in public matched my own - Shocked and outraged!

Nevertheless the evening continued and into another bar we went. Although this time it was our usual haunt! The Rose on Bedford's High Street. However this time there was no dancefloor! No DJ. No Disco. No Bumping and Grinding to be had! With several tables adorning the dancefloor area and disappointed to say the least we had one drink and then headed next door to another old favourite, a Yates! Hitting the dancefloor almost as soon as we got in there and having a good time as usual, we enjoyed being in each others company. Aside from the lack of bar staff and increasingly outrageous behaviour from some party-goers, I was having a good time. I think I had found my place for the evening - The four-person-deep bar in the background, dancefloor and lights everywhere and four Sminoff Ice for Six-Quid I had minimal complaints! Now yes, I acknowledge the fact that Sminoff Ice is something for the younger audience of a restaurant-come-bar but I am more broke than the Pigeon lady from Home Alone.

So as the moments drifted by in a hazzy-blur, I had noticed that a few faces had left in quite a rush. Where they went no-body knows but I have my suspicions?! Carrying on dancing and having a good time I noticed there was an altercation with one of the bouncers. Going over to see what was happening it was apparent my Mummy of the office (who has actually now left to go on to do bigger and better things but is still invited on nights out and so therefore still an integral part of my life) was being chucked out. Why? Because apparently she had been asked by a bouncer once before to put her heels back on as she had taken them off which was very common for my Office Mom! Having none of it the bouncer chucked her out. At that point my Office Dad stepped in to explain in his drunken slur that is was not OK to do that and treat someone that way. And then he got chucked out. The guy who was leaving stepped in at this point, equally intoxicated as the last who tried it on and again, was escorted off site. And if they went we all did. So grabbing our things we headed to the rainy streets outside, putting a downer on everything. 

But as if that wasn't enough, someone had stolen some coats belonging to Office Dad and the guy who was leaving. Becoming the mother of drunkards I took it upon myself to go back inside and look for them. Well that and the fact by this point I was the only one that wasn't barred. Coming back with nothing we continued onto the nightclub next door although with the night on such a southern turn it wasn't long before Mr. Warehouse and I called it a night. Reluctantly on my part as I still wanted to carry on, but the Boyfriends tooth was hurting him so it was probably best that we left together before I got annoyed at him for just moping in the corner. 

The rest of the weekend pretty much has been wasted browsing holidays I am not going on and begrudging the fact that I am not somewhere in Europe right now talking to you as I try not to think of my desk tomorrow. And another bank holiday is over, the longest one we get every year, Easter, is over with and I did nothing but boil in my own annoyance and ordering our new arrival to go and poo. This time next year I will be somewhere other than Bedfordshire on Easter ... Trust Me!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

New Year, New Me and All That Bollocks!

Hello Dears!

Happy New Year 2016! I hope that your New Years was as manic and amazing as mine, although maybe some of you would prefer the Non-Alcoholic-Mocktail version since I have pretty much drank enough beer, wine and spirits to sink the Titanic. 

Suffice to say though that I have had a very relaxing Christmas and New Year. Crazy and very busy at times but more often than not I found myself smiling and laughing with everyone around me. Most of the days I have had off from work on my shut-down, I am not proud to say, I spent in front of the Telly chowing down on the mountain of chocolate I got rather than visiting friends and family. But that is something I need to work on next year: Seeing more friends and family in those lazy days between Christmas and New coming year. Hopefully though I will be in my very own little car and be on the road by then, although I feel this is an incredibly optimistic stance on what is shaping up to already be a very busy year. 

Although before I commenced 2016 I was found spending the last few days of 2015 hanging out in the Bedfordshire Countryside with Mr. Warehouse and his doggy, going for walkies (even if they were just down to the local shops for yet more food!) as well as that one, somewhat productive day, when Mr. Warehouse and I went shopping and yet spent no money at all after having a wonderful time catching up with my family at a local Costa Coffee (yes, I know I betrayed Starbs but it was the families choice not mine!). 

But as New Years Eve rolled around I still had no set plans. So when head of Mr. Warehouse's family called for everyone to come down to the local social club for a few then who was I to say no, especially when there is a DJ and the potential to sneak in your own alcohol! Which I might add that Myself nor Momma Warehouse had any involvement in doing - Those miniatures were there already! 

Sat at the kitchen table, workstations (designated areas of a room to get ready for a night out in AKA drinking/refill stations, make-up stations, hair stations, ect) inadvertently already set up in every corner of the room we had finished the fun of dolling up ourselves and with half hour to spare Mr. Warehouse, Momma Warehouse and I thought it would be a good idea to play a drinking game. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my Cards Against Humanity game and so we got by with drinking our overly boozed beverages every time we heard the title to any song. First on the list? The aptly named 'Shots' by LMFAO. This was a disaster! around 70 times that bloody song has the word 'Shots' in it! Wasted by the time our lift arrived, queue Momma Warehouse and I falling into the local shop to get some cash out and buy cigarettes and then diving back into the car before anyone could see how pissed we were already! 

Walking into the venue we realised whilst we were not the only ones seated around the dance-floor, we were certainly all related in one way or another. It was like a family/work reunion with some family faces from both the office, warehouse and Mr. Warehouse's family. Near enough downing a few Screwdrivers (Orange Juice and Vodka) I hit the wooden floor, covered by this point in lazers, strobes and fog. Although it wasn't long before a few little faces made it into my personal space and started trying to play a god awful game of 'Tag - Your It'. I soon quietened their pre-pubescent selves with a little Macarena and Cha-Cha-Slide therapy and a strict "No! I'm drinking and getting wasted now - Go away children!" and that seemed to do the just the trick. 

Count down beginning I thought back to last New Years 2014/2015 and realised that at this precise moment I was either in the toilet or in a muddle puddle at the bottom of a children's slide missing the countdown. This year however I was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with my dearest Mr. Warehouse, his family and our friends surrounding us and as we began to count backwards I suddenly became scared and anxious about what the next year would bring me and my life. Over the next year I plan to learn to drive, buy a car, go on a few more nice holidays and even maybe a few other surprises! As the DJ stopped to ring out the bells of Big Ben in London I felt overwhelmed and as I was pulled in for a loving hug by my boyfriend I felt more excited and happy than I think I ever felt. Squeezing each other tight we didn't let go. But eventually we were prised apart by Momma Warehouse yelling at her son to "Get down to one fucking knee and propose to the poor girl already!" Ahh yes, she was slightly sozzled bless her little miniature bottles ... I mean heart! Laughing it off as normal we went around everyone in the pub that night wishing them and their friends and families to come a very Happy and healthy New year and to make 2016 an even better one! 

Waking up the next morning with a fuzzy mouth and an achey head I took some time at breakfast with Mr. Warehouse and Momma Warehouse to look back on the previous evenings activities. Starting the evening with selfies and cute close-ups, I had ended my evening sitting in the living room, legs a kimbo, Labrador on my lap and my fake eyelashes now off and stuck underneath my nose in a very unorthodox salute to a tyrannical leader of 1940's Germany! 

So it seems that my new years is off to a good start and I mean to carry it on well with the coming months churning out a trip to Dublin and southern Ireland as well as a Christening in a few weeks. Spring will bring me birthdays galore and all the engagements that come with such celebrations. Summer will hopefully see me off on another rumbustious holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb as well as a wedding with Mr. Warehouse and his family down in Newquay and a new baby will be arriving sometime in the summer, making Mr. Warehouse an Uncle for the fourth time. September will bring about yours-truely and her special day and then into the winter months I plan to spend some time travelling cold, snowy Europe before passing my test and buy a car so that Christmas and New Years 2016 can be just that little easier logistically. 

So my New Years Resolutions are as follows I am hoping you have a successful time as me:
1. Get up off the couch, put down the Cadburys and Cheetos and get to a more happier size. Whilst I realise that every year I say "get into a size 12 by Christmas" I actually want to do it. Well at least I want to think about it anyway?!
2. Save enough money by working unsociable and unhappy hours at the call-centre so I can learn to drive and buy a car ergo ensuing many more adventures, places to see and things to do. 
3. Finally face up to the fact that I am, at some point, going to have to let Mr. Warehouse move in with me. 
4. Try and go on more holidays and work out where else in the world I can go that isn't going to cost me an entire years salary. 
5. And on the subject of money ... Get more of it!

A Happy and Safe New Year 2016! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

All But Dream's ...

Hello All,

So last week I spoke of my misfortune with Mr. Suicide and the fact that my job had come to an end. I also said that maybe, just maybe things would change by the next time we spoke. And it has. Sort of ...

Yesterday I bagged myself a job. So it was a bit out the way and would mean a long journey to and from work, but I was up for a challenge and ready for a fight - Especially when they refused to let me have the job simply because I didn't drive (In which the job did not state was a requirement so HA!). After an hour and a half journey to work this morning and waking up whilst the sun was still yawning I arrived bright and early ready to start my first day's work, and I loved every second of it. Calling customers and sorting out cavity wall and loft insulation's was a breeze and I picked up everything they taught me super fast.

But when the clock struck five-o'clock and I headed out the door, that's when it all changed. After slogging it up a steady hill on a bicycle which I now hate, I watched the bus sail on past. After then realising that there were no bus stops for another few miles I puffed it out again on my wretched cycle. Arriving at a local pub and knowing that the bus would eventually stop there I sat sown on a bench, only to check the timetable and realise that buses now run every hour. I had a fifty-nine minute wait by the time the bus arrived, which it did. Late. The fugly female driver then had the audacity to say that my bike was not allowed. By this point I have had enough and hoofed it on before she could drive off. Three hours it took me to get home. Three hours. Plus the hour and a half getting to work. A grand sum of four and a half hours commute. That's more than some people's shifts. The worst part about it. For forty-five pounds for a shitty commute and long arse hours, its just not worth it. Safe to say I wont be doing that tomorrow I can tell you that!

And so here I am again. Back at square one. Still searching for that all elusive clerical role. On the plus side though I decided to throw it all away this weekend with a bit of a party! Well it started out as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I washing her car and pretending to be sexy whilst doing so on a muggy Saturday afternoon in denim hot-pants and tight white t-shirts which became see through when we ended up having a water-fight including soap-suds all being topped off by a make out sesh. Haha I'm joking. You would never see us in hot pants. Or the rest of that stuff - But a girl can dream cant she? But the fun didn't stop there - Oh No!

Feeling sad, single and under-sexed Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I came round to the subject of weddings. You would think that two young, youthful women would get excited about such an event, understandably ... But when you and your best friend are in platforms wearing nothing but a white bed sheet as a make-shift wedding dress, a net curtain as a veil and a tiara walking around the house together taking it in turn it be the bride, then maybe things have gone too far. Regardless, we laughed and giggled no amounts and she made me feel much better about myself and my situation. I cant wait until someone now gets married ... Hurry up friends! Or Prince Charming, you know, I don't mind. Either one. Which ever comes first. Ohh, did you hear that? I think I just heard all the men running away from me in horror of commitment and the freaky lady dressed in a bed-sheet wedding gown. Oh Dear! Forever alone.

This did not stop us though as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I continued the party (Carrying on the wedding themed afternoon well into the night labelling our night on the town as our 'Wedding Reception'). However when Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got wind that I was supposed to be going out with Miss Chocolate to celebrate her moving in later on that night they decided to make a proper night of it and join us in going all out, all together. But this wasn't before copious amount of shots and nearly being sick before we even left! Upon arrival at our nightclub of choice Miss Chocolate and I made the most of the empty dance floor whilst we could as by the end of the night, as usual, I was being 'grinded' on by a black man and being mentally undressed and seduced by someone else.

All in all though a better week than previously. Hopefully things will pick up and maybe a new job. I would say Prince Charming too but maybe that's asking for too much since I only started online dating this week. Aha a girl can only but hope!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Midsummer Night's Disaster!

Hi,
 
So after another week of relentless searching for that perfect abode it has beaten me yet again. I can understand why boffins say that moving into a new home is one of the most stressful things a human can do. On the up side, the weather has been great here in this part of the UK. After walking around Sunny Bedford most of Saturday Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I decided it was just too sunny to stay indoors and procrastinate and so we decided to head to the pub. To celebrate the weather, the three of us decided on a road trip and all went to Cambridge for the day, meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend. A wonderful day out in the sunshine if I do say so myself and defiantly to be repeated!
 
However it is nights like this one, hot, humid and sticky that remind me of all those many moons ago (Not that long ago actually) when I was living in Northamptonshire after my separation from Mr. Workaholic. You see when I split from my Ex, we went our separate ways. He went squealing back to Mummy and I continued, although shattered, to work in Northampton. It was during those months that I was on a regular night out with my work colleagues - A mismatch of people from all backgrounds and ages with varying degree's of humour, tolerance and intelligence. Getting dressed up I decided that for the first time ever I would go out with my legs on show and bare from tights. I wore a red dress as well which apparently shows men that the wearer is amorous, fiery and lustful. Don't know about that given how the night ended?!
 
Walking into the posh cocktail bar the group of us headed straight to the bar and got a round in and it wasn't before long I was dancing along with the rest of them, giggling at our bosses embarrassing dance-floor shapes. After coming back from outside to get some air I went back to our table, although I had noticed a new pair of eyes in the room. A tall, pale, handsome figure loomed over the other side of the bar. I smiled and thought nothing more of the innocent looking stranger. As the night continued though I couldn't help but think about him, until that is he was tapping me on the shoulder. As I turned the handsome stranger lent in and said he like my dress and thought I was very beautiful. I was flattered and completely taken aback by the fact that someone other than my pig of an Ex-boyfriend actually fancied me. I returned the complement. From there on in we spent the next few moment complementing each others persona. Mr. Sick, as he shall be referred to, was wearing a mauve, designer polo shirt and a pair of tight, black, skinny-jeans finished off by a pair of branded boots which were slightly out of place for a chic city club. From progressing conversation I gathered his name, that he still lived at home with his parents and that he was a car sales man. For some odd reason I thought Mr. Sick looked slightly Irish; What with the dark-blonde hair combed into a stylish quiff, baby face and blue eyes I fell a little. However our encounter was to only be brief as I was swept away by a fellow work buddy to dance.
 
As the night wore on and after another trip to the bar we met again. Mr. Sick said that he had to go as his friend was sick and he needed to get him home and would have to go with him. Tipsy, I had said that Mr. Sick could stay with our group of friends and pointed in the direction of my work friends at our V.I.P table we had blagged earlier in the evening. Obliging Mr. Sick left to see his friend off in a cab and then returned with two bottles of beer. "My mate has left this one untouched, you can have it if you like and I'll buy you a fresh one after." He said. Dubious I took the bottle of warm beer and thanked him. He only added to my suspicions though when he said "Don't worry, its not spiked with anything!" Instant flop. I smiled and grinned but at the next available opportunity I put the beer on a table hoping he wouldn't notice. He didn't and after buying me another rancid beer we decided to attempt that age old tradition of dancing. Lets just say that Mr. Sick's dance moves were across between Elvis and Michael Jackson being struck with a tazer gun. It was at this point I noticed he was drinking incredible fast, although I didn't think anything of it. After a while Mr. Sick and I decided to head to a new bar and after walking into the fresh summer air we started to converse again. I bragged about how I lived by myself and had and en-suite room as he stared at me in awe. I knew at that point what would come of the evening. Mr. Sick and I headed to another club and straight to the bar we went, although I was buying this time - I was sick and tired of lousy beer. Passing him his drink we danced some more.
 
Suddenly Mr. Sick grabbed my hand and dragged me outside! Teetering on heels in the chilly air I asked what the plan was. Mr. Sick shrugged his shoulders. There was no point in beating round the bush. Both of us knew where the night would end and after I had spouted off about living alone I thought it would only be rude if I didn't show him where I lived. So we hailed a cab to take us back to mine. After a few smug looks and smirks from the driver I started to talk as if we had been together for ages and that this wasn't just some randomer, this didn't quash the taxi drivers looks though and I felt as though he had seen this story a million times before. Pulling into my quiet cul-de-sac Mr. Sick graciously and generously paid for the twenty-quid taxi fare and we left the cabbie and his opinions behind. Opening the door to my room I let Mr. Sick take a seat on my bed as I showed him my bathroom and asked if he wanted a drink. I felt as though I was in some cheesy rom-com and Mr. Sick's next comments didn't help. He had noticed some erotic fiction on my bedside table and decided that the best thing to do would be to say "Lets reenact some scenes?" To think that if Mr. Sick had ever actually read the book in question, then he could have ended up in a compromising position with a gag ball and some handcuffs. Regardless of that the lights were dimmed and we started to kiss.
 
Not the best kisser of all time although not the worst, although he did have a thing about moving the hair out of my face whilst making-out and loved touching my facial features. Somewhat romantic, but after a while you feel like your a piece of Braille. Although when it come down to the heavy stuff, well, he really didn't like receiving oral. I mean most men go mad for that kind of stuff, and I have been told that I'm 'experianced' in that department. His loss though. When it was my turn to lay back and think of England, all I could think about was the systematic and robotic nature of his hand movements. It was like I was a stubborn stain that needed to be cleaned. When it then came down to the nitty gritty, Mr. Sick attempted, but it was very much a 'is it in yet?' affair. Not my kind of party. I decided to play the tired card and we both rolled over. Mr. Sick attempted the 'big spoon' position and I succumbed.
 
It was only when I opened my eyes again that I heard Mr. Sick retching. Bolting upright just in time to see him puke all over my bed, splashing both me, the duvet and the floor in vomit. Thankfully I didn't have to cart Mr. Sick to the bathroom as he made his own way there, finishing in the sink. Rubbing his back I thought about what I had let myself in for. After profusely apologising he tried to kiss me. Nope. Returning to bed and tucking Mr. Sick in like a child I somehow thought how I was doing the right thing. Most women and indeed some men in my position would have just thrown them out on their ear after what had already happened. But I couldn't. The thought that he could be roaming the local area like a lost animal, drunk and being sick was something I could not live with. So I kept awake and whilst the sun came up and the birds started to sing Mr. Sick lived up to his name a further three times, covering my bathroom in barf. There wasn't one thing that didn't suffer. Towels, toilet, shower door, bath mats, clothes basket, shelf and mirrors were all destroyed by the exorcist like puke-fest. Finally as morning broke and I looked at the clock, the screaming 10am told me that he had to go. And so I released him back into the wild, not even exchanging numbers. Only names.
 
And so that is the story of Mr. Sick. A genuine tale of drunken mess and a hero that was willing to let a mess like that back into her bed to sleep it off. The worst part about it was that he still wasn't Irish. If anything he told me he was originally from Manchester. Close enough I suppose. For some odd reason Mr. Workaholic was thrilled to hear of my bedroom misfortune and used it as an excuse to wheedle his way in again like the slimey toad he is. But still I keep on searching - Both for my new pad and for a new man ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Friday Night In Frodsham ...

Evening All,

Finally in the UK we have some sunny weather and it is putting me in a better mood everyday. Waking up to the sun creeping through the window right till the moment I walk out of work into the warm breeze. Summer is defiantly not far away. But I am almost certain you don't want this edition to be about the weather, you want to know about my week; Including my weekend away with Miss Chocolate, don't you? Best not keep you waiting then ...

After a busy week and a gossipping Wednesday spent with Miss Chocolate and an old friend of ours, I reluctantly spent Thursday night in, praying that my night out with my hotel-buddy in the small village of near where we were staying wouldn't be a train crash. Instead of partying into the small hours and seeing some familiar faces I opted for a quiet night in from of the telly, regardless that I was up way past my bedtime. Friday morning, after booking the day off, I rolled over and snuggled in bed whilst I watched the sun through my window. Drifting in and out of sleep I awoke wondering what time it was and why my alarm hadn't woken me. Stumbling out of bed I went to my charging phone only to realise it was off. Shit! Have I slept in? Panicking I raced to the front bedroom where my parents had already left for work. No sign of Miss Chocolate's Car. 'She must have had some issues herself this morning' I thought. As I returned to my bedroom I realised that it was 9.30am and we should have left over an hour-and-a-half hours ago. Knowing that Miss Chocolate would be here any second I went into overdrive. Hearing my phone ring I answered. It was Miss Chocolate. She was outside. 'Ill be there in a sec' I fibbed. I wasn't even dressed yet. Throwing  on some clothes, putting my hair up and brushed my teeth furiously I got ready in a matter of minutes and was downstairs with all my stuff. After piling it all into the car and punching in the directions to the hotel we were off along the motorway which for the time of day was pretty clear. Since I had turned my dying phone on I had received a number of nasty calls and messages from Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb after a pathetic argument the previous evening. The argument has still yet to be resolved, regardless of me apologising, but with my phone on a limited battery I decided to let the girls cool off over the weekend before I spoke to them. Plus it wasn't worth the effort and I wasn't going to ruin my weekend (or theirs) for the sake of some petty problem. 
 
A few hours in and the journey was getting boring listening to the same songs on the mixed-tape CD I had made especially for the journey. I noticed a convoy of military trucks along side us on the busy motorway and so I took it upon myself to have a little fun. What with my Father being ex-military himself I know a little bit about what 'squaddies' are like. As we past the first truck I blew a kiss. Stunned looks and cheeky smiles replaced bored faces in both vehicles. The second was the same. A kiss and a smirk. The third I sent a wink and again was rewarded my a coy grin. getting excited I ramped up the tempo and on the last lorry full of combat's I blew a big kiss. However I was disappointed not to receive a reaction. The flirty mood had been damped. But not for long. Seconds later a beep. I looked out the passengers window to see the boys in green pull along side us in the car to blow me a saucy kiss and a wink back! As if our weekend couldn't get better, that had just made my day. After singing and seat-dancing our way across the country we arrived at the hotel and checked in with all our luggage. Miss Chocolate and I were allowed to go up to our room straight away and instantly flopped onto our beds as soon as we were there. Relaxing after our long journey we decided to plan the rest of our day. Miss Chocolate suggested a trip to a local supermarket to collect some munchies and alcohol for the night ahead. Once we had stocked up, Miss Chocolate instructed me to get changed into some gym kit so that she could but me through my paces at the onsite gym in the hotel. Following a near death experience with something called exercise in the gym I headed to the Spa. Sauna, Steam Room and then the Jacuzzi before splashing into an empty pool with Miss Chocolate.
 
Sauntering up to mine and Miss Chocolate's room in just a towel, we began to get ready and before we had time to start pre-drinking it was time to go. Doubting the legitimacy of this so-called nightclub we were going to I clambered into the car whilst Miss Chocolate took the wheel - She wasn't drinking and so thought it best to save money and drive there. But driving past the venue slowly, looking for parking I noticed that all the lights were off and only the restraunt next-door seemed to have anything going on. Worried I expressed my concerns to Miss Chocolate but she shrugged them off and said it was going to be a good night regardless of where we were. Walking through the glass doors of the nightclub I noticed a few people already there and having a good time. There was even a few on the light-up dance-floor. As Miss Chocolate and I headed for the bar I was stolen by a well-built Northerner in a red jumper. Clearly already out of his tree I decided to humour him and went for a boogie and when he went in for a sneaky snog I graciously declined the offer! We later found out he was on his stag-do and getting married in less than three-weeks ... Defiantly a keeper.  Returning to a single Miss Chocolate at a nearby table I sat down and took the already mounting pressure of my feet. Heels might not have been the best idea tonight. As we chatted, Miss Chocolate and I realised that we were attracting some attention. I gathered it was that we were new to the 'scene' and Southerner's which made us very popular for the evening. It wasn't long before we were approached by a gentleman in a blue and white polka-dot jumper. Over the bass he explained how his friend over the other side of the dance-floor had noticed me! After clarifying with the strawberry blonde man that it was me that his friend was talking about, Mr. Dot asked me if I would allow his friend to buy me a drink. Taken aback a bit as to why someone would want t buy me a drink I agreed and being a friendly girl, and not one willing to turn down a freebie for nothing I went to meet this mystery drink-provider. To say that I was glad it was dark is an understatement but regardless it was nice to meet the guy whom I shall name as Mr. Vee. Why the alias Mr. Vee? Well, throughout the coming hours that I felt obliged to talk to him as he bought me a drink, Miss Chocolate and I realised that he was in fact a virgin. His friends, including Mr Dot started taking photos of me talking to him and texting each other saying that he had pulled. This was defiantly not the case.
 
After accepting another drink from Mr. Vee, he suggested we went outside to talk. 'If I'm not back in five minutes, start putting my face on milk cartons' I said in hushed tones to Miss Chocolate as Mr. Vee dragged me outside into the fresh night's air. Struggling to make small talk he resorted to fidgeting, obviously nervous about something. 'Can I kiss you' he suddenly blurted out. Thankfully before I got a chance to reply Mr. Dot and company arrived, chanting and hugging us both. Mr. Dot whispered something in my would-be kisser's ear and then swiftly departed. Taking my chance when I had it I went in search for Miss Chocolate back inside the warm nightclub. I found her where I had left her and we began to realise this might be a more interesting evening that I first thought. Miss Chocolate ad I were one of only a handful of women in the venue that night which made for alcohol-fuelled tension between men who were also there. Glad that I was back Miss Chocolate and I headed for the dance-floor to show these Northerners how its done. And boy did we show them! A few songs in and some outrageous dance moves later Mr. Dot reappears and begins to pester me to again allow his mate to buy me my third drink. Shouting over the music, I tried to explain that I just wasn't into him or Mr. Vee and that they needed to leave us alone. Clearly not taking the hint and desperate to get his friend laid, Mr. Dot approached and Miss Chocolate who told him right where to stick the offer. Giving in we approved the request and were left in peace for the rest of the evening by Mr. Vee and his generous ways. That is not to be said for Mr. Dot however and as the evening progressed I could see that Miss Chocolate was into him. Leaving them be I set off to find my own kill for the night.
 
Nicknamed 'The Sexy Southerners' by locals, Miss Chocolate and I danced and partied into the night. Whilst getting down to most of the song's on my home-made CD a fight suddenly broke out and as to be expected the police were called. Looking sadly at Miss Chocolate we knew that this was the end of the night as we had witnessed it a few times before back home. A fight breaks out, the police are called, the club shuts and everyone goes home sad. Well, apparently up north they do it differently and with a bloody and broken face the victim and the perpetrator were escorted away in a cop car. The music started up again and everyone trundled back inside the warmth. It didn't take us all long to get up to our old tricks again and sooner that expected Miss Chocolate and Mr.Dot were mouthing lyrics to anthems whilst I returned to my prowl. Spotting a new group to the dance foor I shuffled over smoothly and before I got a chance to 'accidently' bump into them a tall, handsome quiffed-Blondie tapped me on my shoulder and began to introduce me to his friends: A very tall male wearing a blue checked shirt and a very nice, broad gentleman with typical traits I look for in a potential catch. He had everything from the light stubble to the brown hair, the chocolate eyes, deep husky yet friendly voice and a gorgeous smile. Target Acquired!
 
Although Mr. Quiff had other ideas and tried to set me up with the last member of the group, Mr. Podge - Although Miss Chocolate likes to refer to him as Mr. Fat. Not liking the look of where this was going I steadily introduced Mr. Podge to Miss Chocolate and they hit it off immediately. Miss Chocolate could see where I was going with this and graciously took one for the team whilst I closed in on the others. Since I could locate Mr. Stubble I decided to try my luck with Mr. Quiff and after we got talking I learnt that he visits friends in Bedfordshire and is studying for a degree of some kind. The bar called however and alas, Mr. Quiff was gone. Not to worry I thought as cleverly Mr. Stubble was in charge of looking after me whilst Mr. Quiff was at the bar. Making conversation, Mr. Stubble asked me what I did as a career. First boob moment of the evening. Wanting to say my actual career path as a admin assistant, alcohol and the free-drinks of the evening took hold of my tongue. Apparently I now work as a 'Director of Distribution'. Not quiet the response both him or I thought we were getting. Ignoring my faux pas, we flowed to the thumping tunes but I started to wonder where Miss Chocolate was as I hadn't seen her in a while. Not wanting to leave my beloved Mr. Stubble but panicking that she had been abducted by Mr. Dot or worse, Mr. Podge! Grudgingly I left to go in search of my roommate. After searching outside, the bar, toilets, entrance and everywhere in between I finally found Miss Chocolate, safe and sound although dying from some boring story that Mr. Podge was telling her.
 
Hitting the dance floor for the last time we realised that it was nearly time to go. But not before I made a complete tit of myself. Glancing at Mr. Stubble and his wallet protruding from his jeans pocket and thinking it would be a good idea to have a last ditch attempt I said this. 'Is that your wallet or are you just pleased to see me?' Feeling myself burn red with embarrassment and not quiet believing what I had said, Mr. Stubble asked what I had said as he couldn't hear over the music. As if the first time was bad enough, I tried three more times before giving up. Note to self: Trying to woo the love of your life right next to the DJ booth is not a good idea. Miss Chocolate had a confession. Mr. Podge was planning to make-out with her at the end of the night and as with Mr. Vee hours earlier, he too had strangely asked her for a kiss. Even after returning home on Sunday, both Miss Chocolate and I are still left not understanding why all men up north had to ask for a kiss whilst men back home just dive right in and hope for the best. Maybe chivalry isn't dead after all? Together we hatched a plan that we would escape from Mr. Podge and his smooching, fleeing into the night when the lights came on. And that's what we did. When the lights went out and the music dyed down we grabbed each other by the hand and skipped towards the exit nearly getting caught up between the police and yet more young men fighting. Together we ran all the way to the car and back to our room where we continued our weekend in style.
 
In the days following our night out Miss Chocolate has longed for her Mr. Dot but has recently re-kindled an old flame to keep her happy. So, Shopping, Spa and relaxing were all part of our weekend but I think that both Miss Chocolate and I will struggle to forget our Friday night in Frodsham in a hurry! 
 
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx

I Love Bank Holiday's!

Hello,
 
Happy Easter everyone! I hope you all had a good bank holiday - if you get one that is. Here in the UK we got a four day weekend stretching from Friday to Monday. And after the way I ended the last edition I should probably explain what I actually got up to. Well for the most part the weather held out, and by that I mean it didn't rain. It did snow several times, the most inconvenient was when I was walking from the station to my cousin's birthday party. Note to self: Walking across a muddy field with sheepskin boots on and trying to look sexy in front of footballers is not a good look when you have the arctic flying into you at forty-miles an hour. But aside from the weather everything else went swimmingly. Apart from a minor dispute however with Miss Chocolate which I shall not go into as I would get so angry you could fry an egg on my face. It has not yet been fully resolved I think but things like this will need time to grow again. Fingers crossed we'll be OK soon though, I need someone who wont disapprove of my Harlequin ways when were out. I had a free house to myself the weekend as Ma and Pa went away for a dirty weekend in a Caravan. 'If the caravan's rocking, don't come knocking' is there cringe moto - I don't think there is anything less sexually appealing than thinking that people over the age of 45 ''do-it'' *Sick face and vomit noise*
 
Thursday night after work I had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee come round and we vegged out watching telly and eating pizza. After Miss Tweedle-Dumb had left to visit her boyfriend, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I decided to hit the sack. That was until we realised we couldn't lock the front door as I had misplaced my house keys somewhere in the lounge. I knew they were there as I had let myself and the girls in and after locking the door behind us, put them down somewhere. We had been looking constantly for several hours now and in the small hours of Friday morning I called it a night, pushed all the furniture back to its rightful place and wedged a coffee table behind the front door. This did not however stop Miss Tweedle-Dee from making up tales of how we would be raped and shot in the night by intruders to which I brushed off despite thinking the very same thing the previous night when the door had been locked and my Father in the room adjacent. Morning broke through the window as we both squinted at one another. lying in bed together with morning breath and hair all over the place like an old married couple. I investigated downstairs and promptly returned to infirm my bed-partner that there was no intruders in the night and if there were then they were very sneaky to get out again putting everything back right as I left it. Once up and dressed we started to plan our day when Miss Tweedle-Dumb called with some spooky news. "I have found your keys" she says excitedly but nervously holding back more information. After probing she continued. "They were in the back of my car, neatly placed on the floor behind where you were sitting" she said. Gobsmacked I started to well up with joy and horror. Who could have put them there? We didn't go back into the car once we were in the house? Did the invisible elderly lady who lives with me do it as she has done with many other things before? We may never know.

Later on we left for some shopping near London with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and some other friends of ours. As usual the day ended with lunch in our favourite pub, gossipping over men and other idiosyncrasies as well as our ghostly encounter the previous night. Throughout Saturday morning before I went out to spend the day with family, I rearranged the house to accommodate my friends who were coming to mine for pre-drinks before Saturdays big 80's V 90's headphone-disco night out. The table was laid out with a roulette shot's game, a game of naughty charades was nearby. Alcohol, mixers and chocolate was covering the counters in the kitchen. An airbed had been arranged (but not blown up due to the lack of batteries I had working) and make-up, hair and dressing stations had been assigned in the lounge. Everyone was due to arrive at 7pm. Well, 7pm came and went, so did 7.30pm and 8pm. Finally at quarter-to-nine they arrived. Miss Tweedle-Dumb's car had broken down and there was issues trying to find parts to fix it. Regardless they were here and we started to get ready, dance, drink and play games. Lets just say you don't know your friends until you play a round or two of 'never have I ever' with them.

Calling a cab to town we darted around looking for money, phone and most of all keys! Jumping in the cab I think I was the only one to carry on drinking and also to strike up conversation with the fellow that was driving us towards a night of madness and mayhem. Once inside the alternative-club the headphones went on and the inhibitions came off. I spent the night howling away to cheesy pop classics from our childhood and dancing the moves that matched them. At one point I found myself "lost" and coincidentally made friends with a very nice chap who showed me how he dances - with his tongue. As in kissing - nothing else, god, I'm not that much of a floozy! Then before I knew it, somehow I was on the floor in a heap with my arms and legs flailing around like an upside down beetle looking for help. Thankfully this young man whose face was somewhat blurred by the amount of alcohol I had exceeded picked me up and just continued where he left off. I must have got bored as I just left and went to go and find the others without even saying goodbye. Rude I know - but I'm blaming it on the alcohol. That night we all returned home where apparently there was an argument over ordering a take-away of which I was in the middle of completely KO on the lounge floor. I woke the following morning on the flattened airbed on my bedroom floor after being kicked from my drunken slumber by Miss Tweedle-Dumb as she made her way to the bathroom.

Sunday I spent mostly recovering form a hangover that I had didn't anticipate. I never get hangovers. Why was Sunday the day to start?! Fully-recovered Monday was spent in my home-town wondering around boutiques and being chatted up by weirdo-couple's trying to stroke me. Strangely though, after the weekend that I have had I have not made any pounces on the male variety and for once in a very, very long time I am not lusting or longing for anyone. I suppose this is what its like to be single then, but hopefully not forever. Out on the prowl soon I hope.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx