Hand(luggage), Face(mask), Space(-d out sun loungers)

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last weeks McDonalds brekkies, Bottomless brunches and heavenly crepes, I have not exactly been going in the right direction when it comes to my newly started Slimming World Journey. I get that everyone has put on a pound (or twelve) during the whole Lockdown thing, however I think if anything, and maybe it is the age thing talking now - I just dont give a fuck. I enjoyed last weekend so much so I think I have realised that yes, whilst I, like most people, need to eat more fruit and veggies and maybe move a bit more, I enjoy food and I dont want to be sat in a room of people every Tuesday evening clapping for Brenda or someone else who lost half a pound. I wanna be boosting Brenda up and telling her I fricken love those sweatpants she is rocking or how she has her hair today. I want to be around empowering women and not making them feel bad that they fell off the wagon a few days in a week and had a damned KitKat. And so I think when I return from my holiday (less than 48-hours to go and counting) I will rennounce all Slimming World visits only goign in for the bare minimum whilst I see out my remaining week's I have pre-paid for, checking in on my ever fluctuating weightloss. 

And sowith less than eight hours of work to go, the countdown is well and truely on. As I had explained last week, my finaly year of my twenties I want to do stuff, see stuff, visit places and just tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything - Weddings, Work/Life balance, Halloween, Career, Parties and social activities, even holidays - Or so I thought before I got the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY! This time next week ladies and gentlemen get ready to be green with envy as I will be 2,393 miles away from here in Marmaris, Turkey. 

Flying out Wednesday, Mr Warehouse and I will be leaving our pups behind to play with their sister (Frankenstien's Pup-Sister) and Momma Warehouse AKA 'Grandma' for a whole week with friends and family dropping by throughout the time I am sure. Jetting off to the Mediterranean resort town along the Turkish Riviera, also known as the Turquoise Coast, Marmaris is a dreamy location with pebbly beaches and long seafront promenades, perfect for just getting away from it all. The seaside, tourist hotspot is known for its lively nightlife on Bar Street which is home to open-air clubs and music venues, however from some of the YouTube videos and vlogs we have watched over the last fortnight or so, most of them seem closed. Marmaris sits in a valley between pine-forested mountains and clear waters, which are popular sailing and diving destinations, something Mr Warehouse and I are hopihn we might be able to find an excursion or two.

Our hotel is to die for as well. Situated right on the beachfront sea lapping up against your toes, The Poseidon Hotel offers a private beach area with a jetty and free sun loungers, parasols and cabanas beds. The hotel has both an indoor and outdoor pool as well as a Turkish bath, sauna and a fitness centre. All room are beautifully carpeted throughout and what looks like marbled stone private bathrooms with a hairdryers, free toiletries and everything else you could possibly need for your stay. Air conditioning as an absoloute must for Mr Warehouse after several dodgey budget hotels with little or none and I am sure that the TV and minibar will be put to good use also. 

With the All Inclusive menu there will be plenty to pick from I am sure, or maybe something à la carte where Mr Warehouse and I can enjoy selected dishes from Turkish and international cuisines. If we fancy it Marmaris city centre is less than a two-mile walk from the hotel with plenty more options for food and nightlife. According to Booking.com, "according to independent reviews, this is guests' favourite part of Marmaris and Couples particularly like the location rating it 8.9 for a two-person trip." so I am positive we will have a good time and with Free WiFi available throughout the hotel I am sure you will all be getting sick and tired of my constant 'Gramming by Thursday Morning. 

Oh and did I mention - Its adults only! No screaming Wayne's around poolside wanting their fifth ice-cream in a row. No crying Abigail because she cant use the Hammam mud chambers. No silly slides or water fountains (although not going to lie, probs gonna miss that myself). So grab your overpried straw sun hat from Accessorize and the Haviana's you bagged from your bestie when she was having a clear out and let get our holiday on!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Last Year of my Twenties ...

Evening, 

Strolling into the office, I was feeling excited I had less than a few hours left before a weekend of fun and birthtday activities. Friday was my 29th year on the planet, gracing you all with my precence (haha) and I was certain to make the damned most of it, COVID or not! And so after a dental appointment Thursday afternoon I poured myself a nice big glass ofof the good stuff and enjoyed a night of telly, all in the knowledge I would be jam-packed with people to see and places to go come tomorrow. 

Friday morning came soon enough though and just like the good old days I dropped Mr Warehouse to work, but not before a cheeky McDonald's Breakfast. The start to the day of kings, or at least this one. Double sausage and egg McMuffin meal with a large toffee-nut latte and side of hash brown. Winning! Once back at home I settled in for the morning as the sun continued to rise, watching crappy daytime TV and snoozing with the pups, all before heading out for a spot of what I hoped would be lucrative Halloween shopping however proved fruitless. But the best was yet to come as arriving back home I had a treat in store, well for my oven at least. 

Ever since moving in (nearly two-years ago now) Mr Warehouse and I have been meaning to clean the oven. I know, I know. It is a horrible dirty little secret but telling you all I am sure I am not the only one who has had every intention of sitting there on the kitchen floor of a weekend afternoon, desperatly trying to work out how the oven door comes off whilst the wire racks and trays sit on the counter-top fizzing in bicarb and vinegar. Alas, my future husband and I had all the best ideas when purchasing Oven Pride over 18-months-ago, but there is always something (anything) better to do of a weekend than spent scrubbing on all fours trying not to get bummed into the cooker Hansel and Gretel style by lover boy over there. And so I bought a service so that they would come along, clean and srub all my dirtiness away and leave it gleaming so I can (now) stay n top of it so I dont have the embarressment of calling someone out again and having to lie (unconvincingly) through my teeth that it was only cleaned six-months ago. 

Following the collection of Mr Warehouse we headed home for a bit until it was time to leave for some QT with Miss Tweedle-Dee. Although on arrival her new gaff was packed with her Mom, Dad and not-so-little brother as well as Miss JoHo (now not a Jehovahs Witness). Lots of alcohol followed with some good laughs and giggles. But turning 29, the last few days on the run-up had been reflective. This will be the first year without my Scottish Grandmother and her force of nature was certainly missing from my life, something I have been feeling more now that I ever did before. I dont know, maybe it is the fact that unlike when my Granddad passed away, I still continue to get birthday and Christmas cards from my Nanny Pumpkin, they just dont have the inclusion of "and Granddad" at the end. But this year, it will just be nothing. No "lots of love and hugs and god bless". No funny tongue in cheek card. No money wrapped up carefully in tinfoil. Nothing. And since Scottish Granda' passed long before I knew of grandparents and the impact they have on a growing human, this is the end of an era. 

Saturday my head was fuzzy to say the least, but continuing with the fun (and after doing menial tasks like lumping our old triple wardrobe about the place for someone who came to buy it) Mr Warehouse and I headed off to Bedford Town Centre for something I had wanted to do for ages ... Bottomless Brunch. As the Slug and Lettuce website confirms, "brunch is one of the most important meals of the day" and paired with bottomless bubbles the experience all the more better. Lasting two hours, on arrival Mr Warehouse and I joined our old work colleagues Miss Hackney & Miss Sugarcoat dined from a simple brunch menu choosing Eggs Benedict of course, however the less than attentive team were slow and it wasn't lng before we were ordering two-at-a-time-mimosa's. 

But I couldnt get so shit-faced, I had to go dinner with my Dad and his wife, now of over a year would you believe it? A family run countryside English Inn, The Carrington Arms is situated in the picturesque village of Moulsoe, about a ten-minute journey by car from our home in Cranfield. I had been itching to visit the award winning restaurant for a while now but it was always fully booked during the whole "Eat Out to Help Out" thing in August and after mentioning it in passing my Dad had said he would book a table for my birthday. 

Ariving early I made Mr Warehouse take some pictures of me in my denim jumpsuit finery amoungst the Insta-worthy grounds, all before meeting our dinner guests and walking through into the bar, adorned with a huge selection of gin bottles, towering up the walls as well as draught beers, lagers, real ales and an extensive, handpicked wine list. Sitting down we chatted about my Dad and wife's recent holiday to Northern England including Durham and York, somewhere me and Mr Warehouse would love to travel to again. 

Starting with a Mango and Passionfruit gin I followed it with my favorite starter - Deli Carpaccio of Seared Bedfordshire Beef Fillet, Charred Cucumber, Filo Brick Pastry, Smoked Mustard Mayonnaise, Dill, Pink Pepper & Shaved Pecorino. Following that, my main had to continue the same caliber and since the restaraunt served locally raised Bedfordshire Beef (sold by the gram I might add) I just had to try some, although I was disappointed to discover that in "normal times" pre-Corona you could ahve gone and selected your own steak and watched it being cut and cooked on our charcoal grill. Washed down with plenty of good wine I was far too full from brunch and bubbles plus dinner to even entertain a dessert and so I have just booked to return soon and certainly so for our traditional Christmas eve meal out. 

A few drinks with some of Mr Warehouse's family to see one of the younger ones off to Uni in Liverpool ensued followed by our heads hitting the pillows and falling fast asleep. Most Sunday's are now spent lazing in bed watching Youtube before Mr Warehouse heads out to watch his (or really should be our) Nephew play football and this weekend was no different, I found myself chilling around the house and watching yet more documentaries on Dennis Neilson (self-consuming myself since the incredibly spooky and true-to-likeness docuseries on ITV called "Des" played by David Tennant - Uhh just fascinating you must watch it if you havent already), before heading over to see Brother and Sister-in-law, kids and the most adorable little puppy called Lola ever! 

Wrapping up the weekend in style, Mr Warehouse and I headed to French Affaire, a French inspired restaurant buried in the heart of quaint Stony Stratford near Milton Keynes. Meeting my Scottish side of the family it was nice to finally come full-circle and feel a little better about having my first birthday without my Scotch Nanna. Stepping into the beautiful restaurant I was swept away by the exquisite and elegant interior, including sparkling chandelier, living moss wall and plush furnishings, not to mention a sunny terrace area complete with flowers in full bloom. And unlike The Blossom Room in Milton Keynes Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tried during August's "Eat Out to Help Out" thing, French Affaire's clean & simple cooking was full of flavour and you could tell that many of the ingredients were from local suppliers. Opting for something healthy (probably the first drink I had since Thursday that wasn't alcoholic) I chose a smoothie of blended carrot, goji berries, banana, mango and some other shit to add up to my five-a-day. Our late lunch was compromised of smashed avacado on Sourdough toast with poached eggs and chilli followed by the best Crepe I think I have had outside of France itself - Baileys, Oreo crumbles and White Chocolate sauce. Uh heavenly!

And so the rollercoaster continues into my finaly year of my twenties as some weeks I am good and others, like last week, I just want to tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything, however unlike last week where I thought I had to kiss goodbye to dreamy Greek islands or lush Italian breaks; This week I am looking forward to the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Tale of Sorcery & Spooks

Hello One and All, 

So after smacking my head heavy off the corner of the ice-rink entrance last week, I was dazed a little to say the least. Whilst Mr Warehouse was pissing himself, literally nearly dying from lack of oxygen due to laughing so hard, I was starting to feel the effects of such a crash landing. I had stopped for a little, more so to give my leggies a rest more than anything, although sitting down Mr Warehouse stopped laughing and made a comment about how I didn't look well. The truth was that I didn't feel well. I felt sick. Like as if I was going to vomit. My skin felt weird, like that kind of flu-ey skin you get when you are ill. I couldn't concentrate, my eyes desperately trying to focus on anything. Something wasn't right. Reaching up to my head I felt searing hot pain spread across my skull accompanying a huge lump. At the size of an orange, I began getting irritable, shaking for no reason. 

I decided that after some painkillers, although truth be told I really could have done with going to Accident and Emergency but I didn't want to worry anyone or spoil my Nephew's birthday. Snoozing most of Sunday, I knew that things were not good when on day three you still have symptoms. Returning to work on Monday was like a whole other challenge as for the first time all weekend I had to really focus my attention on something important, like my job. Answering the phone, listening and concentrating on the screens all became harder and nausea didn't help. NHS guidelines state that it's totally normal to have symptoms such as a slight headache, feeling nauseous or dazed and these can last anywhere up to 2 weeks. Where I was normally on the ball I simply couldn't take it in, sometimes taking several attempts to read the simplest of sentences, not good for a busy and fast-paced environment. As the week progressed I felt better but realistically I should have gone to the hospital. The problem is I do not get paid for being off sick, apart from statutory sick pay from the Government (£70 a week - But when I earn more than £70 a day there isn't much point unless I am dying). 

I am glad for the feeling of "normal" to return because Friday was Bestie time! Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for a day out, checking into a hotel for a cheeky sleepover and hanging out in the City until nightfall! My dinner date was at The Alchemist on Bevis Mark. Describing itself as a new home for The Alchemist’s unique brand of cocktail bars & restaurants in Aldgate, Bevis Marks naturally attracted curiosity and with a unique location, it was a natural choice - Standing out as a glint of pure gold amidst the charcoal & black suits of the London’s business district. Suffice to say that The Alchemist does its business in a decidedly different way. Walking in the impressive golden bar gave way to a quieter restaurant area and a beautiful outdoor terrace, a perfect place for glorious sun and warm summer nights. However, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had to settle with the fading winter sun to sample a selection of exquisite cocktails and stunning food, all accompanied by a theatrical experience. 

Starting our evening early I entered a world of theatre as my "Sailors Punch" Cocktail told its own story. Inspired by the spirits & flavours within, the molecular madness in an augmented reality started when Sailor Jerry Rum, Banana liquor, Pineapple & Coconut Bristol Syrup, and a dash of Citrus all turned up on a weird lined coaster. But using the App I downloaded it turned my drink into a far-flung Desert Islands where Pirates poached and Mermaids Merried. Miss Tweedle-Dee made a great decision - The Banoffee Manhattan! Espresso sloshed with a good helping of Monkey Shoulder Whisky, a few squirts of Monin Banana, tickled with Briottet Banana and brought alive by the dreamy Banoffee Foam! 

To. Die. For. 

Not feeling hungry I opted for a sharing starter platter consisting of BBQ Wings, Nachos, Pork Bon Bons, Mac ‘N’ Cheese Bites, Halloumi Sticks and Veg Sticks & Houmous. Finishing up before making a dash to our evening entertainment I chose my final cocktail of the night - The Colour Changing One! Grey Goose Vodka twisted with Briottet Apple, splashed with Soda, sparkled with Citrus and a little sprinkle of Magic. had this dry-ice drink changing colours from deep navies into vibrant pinks and mysterious purples. Watching the time we fast-walked to Aldgate Station to meet a man. Sounds creepy by we were actually about to encounter something much, much spookier as we dove into 1888. 

A Christmas present to my future Maid Of Honour, the Jack the Ripper walk offered a truly atmospheric route.  Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were guided (along with others, that would just be weird) into the old, narrow alleyways where we most certainly felt like we had been transported back to the mean streets of the Victorian East End. Along the tour, our guide, an ex-MI5 police investigator and anti-terror detective accompanied us to the murder sites and locations related to the Jack the Ripper murders. Learning more than just about the murders, I must say after doing so many different versions of the Jack The Ripper tours over my years of fascination, the guide - Who had served not only in the police force but undertaken military exercises including Afghanistan, Belfast and the Falklands - an almost exact background to my father, was incredible. Hosting several investigations into who the Ripper was and having detailed documentaries under his belt diving into the possibilities and struggles the forces had in catching him I was enthralled. By the end of the walk, not only was I exhausted and in need of my bed, but I also wanted to take this guy out for a pint and listen to all his fascinating stories and tales.

By the following morning, I was refreshed after a wonderful sleep in the hotel and after a light breakfast, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I departed, but not before commenting on how we should do something like that again. I mentioned a weekend in Edinburgh - Castles, Instgram-worthy photoshoots and Haunted tours galore. But the long journey and costly expense of it all wasn't something that was within reach at the moment, especially since Miss Tweedle-Dee is only a few months off being a fully-fledged adult like moi and having a mortgage. Maybe we will have to park that on the shelf that requires bigger bank balances along with sleepover's in deranged Liverpool mental asylums and hunting down a UK Horror Convention. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Greener Grass and Flecks of Gold

Evening All, 

Only a week after payday I really wondered how I was so poor. I did not have to look far though as my bank balance for our new house fund was slowly growing. Soon I hoped that I would see that little comma appear proving that I was doing the right thing by saving all my pennies but I never knew how stressful and broke it would make me feel knowing I have money but it is tied up and away. Now don't get me wrong I knew that this would not be an easy journey, saving every scrap of money that both me and Mr Warehouse have between us was certainly going to be a struggle especially when I am giving up on my summer holiday this year with Mr. Warehouse, something that makes me deeply sad and frustrated for this was going to be the year that we were going to have a blowout holiday were by the head off somewhere hot by the beach relaxing for a week or two. 

Anyway enough with the same old same old, and back to the good old good old. That's right, after far far too long apart, me, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat along with her latest Beau met in a local eatery for some Mexican food and what I hoped would be a change to the normal schedule of shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots! It had been a long time since I saw them and it felt like I was going back to something familiar. I enjoy their company separately with Miss Hackney's laughter and down to earth approach mixed in with some gritty tales of the dating game (some more horrific and hilarious than mine I might add) and Miss Sugarcoat's intellectual conversation and ideas on life along with the added spice of strong controversial opinions (some of which I back entirely and some I try to hide from and pretend she is not with me), yet together we seem to create so much noise that it is sometimes hard to hear myself think. 

Harping back to the good old times in which we used to fart around in the office not doing much work or course, we reminisced well into the evening and chatted about life as we know it now with our new relationships, friendships and jobs. I had so much to tell them as they had for me although I felt that we were all talking over each other and that the noisy restaurant did not help. Both Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat seemed to have developed and carved out good careers for themselves, expanding on their talents and skills in order to obtain well paying jobs. This left me slightly questioning if I ever made the right decision moving, even though I knew in my heart that's a good decision was made. OK so I am not earning £35,000 working for a plumbing and heating company and I am also not spending my evenings and weekends attending events that I am hosting in aid of cosmetic beauty. Am I happy I jumped ship? Yes certainly and with everything that has happened in the last year and a half I think I have a fairly good deal where I am at the moment especially given the pay, ever-growing relationships both in and outside of the office as well as the fact that I now have a similar relationship with my engineers as I had before with my old ones. 

As the shots kept coming I knew that my hopes of a quiet and sophisticated chat over dinner would not be the case this evening. Maybe another night I thought. Maybe a quiet evening in with a bottle or two and a comfy sofa to put the world to rights would be just what we all needed to calm down a bit for the atmosphere of a busy restaurant on a Friday night and then a loud pub with DJ were probably not the ideal places to share stories from the last eighteen months or so since I left. This was not to say that I was not enjoying myself knocking back shots of tequila whilst sipping on Prosecco, trying to keep an ounce of classy about the evening of course. As we rambled through the evening, drinking more and chatting less I was enjoying myself but in a different kind of way that I was used to and an alternative way I would if I was with my current work colleagues. 

I suppose in the grand old scheme of things that this is the big difference between my old workplace and where I work now. The majority of the time that I spent with my old work colleagues was getting drunk and talking about shite. That is not to say that given a problem or issue I was experiencing I could not talk to my old work colleagues and looking back on my time there I got some brilliant advice from some amazing people who I would like to consider even now as friends despite not talking in quite some time. A night out on the tiles now consists of going round to someone else to pre-drinking in a sophisticated fashion all whilst helping each other to get dressed and gossipping as women do, then heading into town for a nice meal and some cocktails afterwards. And whilst I don't feel like I have achieved that level of conversation with anyone of my current work colleagues at this moment in time, that is not to say that if something was bugging me or I needed to talk to someone that I would have no one to talk openly to as I am sure that there would be plenty of people to offer a sympathetic ear - I hope at least. 

Nevertheless my Friday evening spent with my old work colleagues or certainly a laugh and certainly something that we will make sure not to leave so long again. Isn't it funny I thought to myself and as I later tried to explain to Man-Brain Mr. Warehouse - You spend a good majority of your life working and those people you work with, if you are close, know everything about you and your life as you do about them and theirs. From Monday to Friday, Nine 'til Five you spill your guts about how your feeling and what happened at home or over the weekend. The kids, the other-half, the house, the in-laws and everything and everyone in between. You get to know their social networks and circles without ever actually meeting them and are able to provide comfort and warmth in a time of need. They know your relationships better than maybe you do yourself and can even offer advise that could change everything. With the staples and cellotape and paperclips galore they help you as much as you help them in times of joy, sorrow, support and laughter, colleagues like mine at my old job were like literal tiny flecks of gold dust, blowing into your life five-days-a-week. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Big Two-Five!

Hello, 

Finally the wait is over and I can finally tell you all about the surprise plans that I have had in place for the last few weeks. No these are not to do with a holiday that myself and Mr Warehouse will be going on in less than a fortnight. Nope, these are the wonderful birthday surprises that I have been keeping secrets from Mr Warehouse for the last few months. And with my birthday falling an exact month after Mr Warehouse's, I am sure that the same amount of effort and preparation is going into my presents and surprises as did his. 

It all started back in the beginning of the summer when I decided that it would be a lovely idea to celebrate Mr Warehouse's twenty-fifth year on the planet as best way I could buy throwing a surprise party / meal. I soon realised that after looking back on my 25th birthday party that Mr Warehouse would not appreciate being the centre of attention and a huge surprise. As a result it was plain to see that a nice sit down meal with the family and friends he held close would be the best idea. And so, over the coming weeks and months I researched into the different venues and restaurants that would be able to cater for what I needed. After settling on a local restaurant that specialised in Chinese with an all-you-can-eat party menu I was sold. 

The fact that they had a function room was even better as the parents of any children being brought along did not have to worry about them disrupting the other customers meals. It would mean that the adults and children alike could have freedom whilst celebrating with good food and even better company. I had the idyllic idea of setting up a colouring station with lots of colouring pages and pencils in one corner of the room in order to keep the children occupied whilst their parents ate. There would be like music in the background and a table for gifts and cards. Alas though this never came to fruition and I shall tell you as to why. 

After weeks of getting up just after Mr Warehouse had left for work at around 6am to bake several cakes in order to stack on top of each other in some sort of towering cake and frosting excellency, I failed and instead succumbed to the fact that I am no Mary Berry and decided to just bin it all and opt for a Waitrose "Ready-to-decorate" golden vanilla sponge cake. I will admit that yes I did indeed go to Waitrose on my lunch break and purchase a very plain cake and decorated it myself with chocolate icing and candles, all in the effort to pull off the idyllic birthday cake that I had imagined in my head. Of course though my imagination is a lot better than my ability in making and decorating cakes. Suffice to say that the cake went down better than the cheesecakes also brought for dessert. The guests even question as to whether it was homemade by myself. 

But waking on Friday morning to a excited Mr Warehouse, I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down with his birthday presents. Opening the birthday cards that had come in the post first from my Grandma and Nana, Mr Warehouse was delighted that this was the first year he had been given a birthday card by them both. Ripping open his other presents, Mr Warehouse unveiled the secret I had been keeping for the last few weeks and months. A belt, a super-large, fluffy bathrobe in Navy, a bag full of 2-penny coins so that we could go to the seaside and play on the arcades all day long whenever he wanted was just a few of the many gifts I bought him. But I saved the best until last. 

After a quick doctors appointment, I rushed over to the venue in order to decorate and drop off the cake and colouring pages. Making excuses to Mr Warehouse as to why I was leaving work late on a Friday, I walked into the venue only to discover that the hefty deposit that I had paid in order to secure the function room was in actual fact redundant and our guests would now be seated downstairs in the normal restaurant area. No colouring station for the kids, no designated area for presents or cards and certainly no display area for my knock-off-Nigel-cake. To say I was angry was an understatement however I did not have enough time to worry about this as I still have to get home get ready and back to the restaurant without Mr Warehouse assuming anything was wrong. 

Coming home I talked through my day as normal and explained that I was thoroughly looking forward to our date night. Hoofing Mr Warehouse out of the back door in order to walk the dog before we headed out I quickly called through to my Dad and the restaurant to make sure that the people had all started to arrive. Heading out the door I was shaking with nerves and anxious that Mr Warehouse may find out what my last and final surprise for his birthday may be. 

Driving down the road slightly I asked Mr Warehouse to go in my handbag to get me something. Unbeknown to the boyfriend he reached inside and picked out a small wrapped box. 

"Happy Birthday!" I exclaimed as I continued round the corner of the residential streets. Shocked and speechless I asked if it was a good present. Mr Warehouse had just opened up one of his last presents, a leather bound wallet with Marvel characters on the outside. Inside however was something even more Marvel-lous! For months all I kept hearing from the boyfriend was the fact that the now infamous Richard Jones who won Britain's Got Talent 2016 performing magic alongside a career in the military, was coming to Bedford in the autumn. I played hard to get and said that I did not know who Richard Jones was, but as Mr Warehouse went into full detail about who he was and what he did, I was secretly looking all the best seats in the house in order to see him live and in action. The money that I have paid for the tickets was certainly worth having Mr Warehouse speechless in the passenger seat of Vivienne. 

Still reeling from the surprise that his girlfriend had bought him pretty much front row tickets to the show that he had been looking at for the last six-months or so, I parked the car and we entered the restaurant. Shock again blessed Mr Warehouse's face as he looked around at the friends and family that had joined him to celebrate his birthday. There was maybe an inkling that someone may be up to no good when he noticed some guests walking in late as we approached the venue but other than that he was stunned. Pheeew! Finally I could breathe a sigh of relief, all in the knowledge that everything was over and I did not have to lie or sneak about anymore. 

In terms of the meal itself it was OK, however the combining factor that I had paid a lot of money for a deposit and with the promise of a function room only to be then seated with everyone else in the restaurant, plus the annoying factor that the restaurant staff did not even take out orders for another hour and a half totalled to making the experience less than satisfactory for myself. Parents of some of the youngest members of the party had to leave as they were already passed their bedtime and they only had the opportunity to consume the starters. Anyone with all other children older than toddlers were asked to cough-up as despite the children not eating from the menu they were still snacking on Prawn Crackers and tit-bits from their parents plates. The colouring pens and pencils as well as the drawings were only helping the children so much and as the Borden crept in from sitting at a empty table for so long the noise of the restaurant got louder. This was not what I wanted and certainly not something that I have signed up to when I spoke to the restaurant originally to host the event. 

However, that being said the food was lovely as always and freshly prepared to order, and all in all I think that everybody had a good time including the birthday boy himself Mr Warehouse. But in no uncertain terms I have been told under no circumstances I am I ever to throw a surprise birthday party or meal again, so ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Frappuchi-NOOO!

Hiya!

Week done I was certainly glad to be out of the office and ready for a night of partying. It had certainly been one of those weeks, you know the ones, they seemed to drag on forever and never ending stream of customers that have multiple first world problems that you are the sole and only the proprietor of. It felt as though at one point that the week would never end. Thank fuck Friday came round quick enough. 

One of the girls at work was become pregnant, and being due in a few weeks Friday was her last day at work. So we did what any normal company would do and other than throwing her a lovely baby shower, decided to have a nice meal out together to celebrate her leaving. In some circumstances this may have been at the end of the night out maybe even finishing off with some cocktails or at a nice bar around the corner from the restaurant, however, this was not the case. Now by no stretch is the company that I work for anything in comparison to what a night out on the tiles was where Mr Warehouse and I met was, but this weekend certainly showed me exactly how crazy and mad it can all get when we've all had a few drinks. 

Finishing a lovely meal at one of the local restaurants to the town centre, I barely have enough time to swallow the last glass of wine let alone the rest of the bottle that I had left before I was being ushered out of the restaurant ready to hit the town. Enough with the fanciful natures of having a nice dinner between work colleagues it was now time to get shit faced. I shall not go into the details of what happened on Friday night however I think that it is safe to say that we all had a thoroughly good time. 

Waking Saturday morning was difficult and I did in all honesty consider just staying up and waiting to get ready to go to Miss Tweedle-Dee's in order to share the journey down to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb one last time in her Basingstoke flat. I was certainly feeling fragile by the time I woke up at 8am Saturday morning. I suppose on a plus side I had not been sick so I was a winner already however I didn't come home with my Tolkien subway as normal, only to be found hours later by an angry Mr Warehouse waking me from my slumber with explaining why I was on the toilet and cradling a six-inch half-eaten sandwich. 

Rushing around to get my bag packed, the dog walked and grab a coffee to sober up I headed out to the car and race to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house by 10am. It what certainly cutting it fine however I did get there just as the clock struck ten. Parking up I prayed to the gods that my friend needed to get some petrol and I could jump out the park to get some car snacks. I was hungry as soon as I woke up although with the copious amounts of alcohol I drank the night before, I wanted to make sure that it was definitely hunger and not just a jelly-belly. The 40-minute journey to my left definitely reassured myself that in actual fact I was just in need of food. 

Filling up in more ways than one we were on our way to see our bestie whom I had heard suffered an even worse night than me. Chattering all the way down to Berkshire we had endured the M25 traffic, and now, with less than 10 minutes left in our journey we decided to pull into Fleet Services as we normally do in order to get a Starbucks. Two chocolate-chip cream Frappe's and a coffee caramel Frappuccino later we were on the road again and next stop Miss Tweedle-Dumb. 

Parking the car we grabbed what we needed and headed inside. I was carrying Miss Tweedle-Dee's sandwich, my handbag and my coffee caramel Frappuccino when I approached the infamous steps of doom. Uneven and probably the shortest one being at least a foot high I was cautious in my approach. I thought o myself as I took my first tentative steps towards the stone stairs "I have managed this in the dead of winter, cold and wet and icy. I though I would have fallen either up or down them alread... " OH FUCK!

Loosing my step in beloved buckled oxblood ankle boots, I stumbled and thinking that I had found my footing I must have counteracted it, doing so had caused me to stumble even further. Shouting out to my friend letting her know that I had screwed up, Miss Tweedle-Dee turned around at just the right moment in order to see me fly into the air. Knowing in my head but there is nothing I could do to salvage myself or indeed anything I was carrying, I took off from the first of four very steep and Stone steps. Crash landing and skidding to a stop, I heard the awful sound of my cherished ice cold coffee caramel Frappuccino hitting the floor, splashing for at least a meter in front of me. 

Although in most circumstances I would have made a full recovery and be back on my feet in seconds, even before someone had asked if I was OK this was not the case. With it all happening so quickly I had not a moment to think or indeed plan my comeback. As such I also had no time, or indeed spare hands to grab onto anything and as such had gone flying. You would have thought that the normal response would be drop everything and check that your best friend is OK and that they haven't broken anything or badly injured themselves. But as the pain set in, I realised that this was not the case and whilst the Two aforementioned chocolate-chip cream Frappe's had been neatly placed on the floor beside myself, it was not to check that I was still alive. Oh no, it was for my friend to reach into her bag and pull out her camera, capturing the embarrassing moment for all to see, forcing me to stay put until the picture has been captured. 

Not that of course the neighbours couldn't see that is. As with many parts of the country including my hometown of Houghton Regis, this area of Basingstoke was a council estate. As search the double-storey buildings that overlooked the path leading to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's house. Not being able to see due to the fact that my sunglasses had become entangled in my hair and in front of my face, I could just feel the curtains twitching as people came to see what was happening outside. With a loud thud, the sploshing drink hitting the floor and unrelenting and never-ending fits laughter, I would have come to the window too in order to see what all the commotion was all about, only to realise that it is some silly fuck who has fallen off the ridiculously high steps again. So much were the screams and howls of giggles erupted from Miss Tweedle-Dee that I am surprised Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't come rushing out to my help. 

After picking myself up off the floor and assessing the damage done I was devastated to learn that there had been a worse casualty in all this. My Starbucks coffee caramel Frappuccino was gone and with nothing left in my little plastic cup I was close to tears. Heading in to tell of the hilarious moment I became superman and show Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend the snap I sniffed and hobbled my way to the front room and slouched on the sofa in pain, not just of my body but also of the thirst-quenching loss. 

With the rest of the weekend passing in a haze of fun, family events and even more laughter I know that in time I will heal the bruises on my pins, but wont pass so easily is the day I flew with my Frappe. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Dinner With A Ghost

Hello!

Driving down a road that looked familiar, I soon realised it was the old route I used to take to my High School. I was in a small Ford KA and was with my besties, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. But they weren't driving. It was Mr. Ginge. Our relationship was mainly featured in post 'The Grass Might Not Always Be Greener On The Other Side' but in basic terms was my first boyfriend. Yes, Mr. Warehouse knew of our meet up and I think a negotiating factor was the fact that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were accompanying me. That and the fact that I was a teenager when we were last dating. But I was not a emo-teen anymore. I was a grown women, and Mr. Ginge was a grown man. Things had changed a lot since we last saw each other and now we were en route to my old High School for Dinner (Don't ask). Pulling into the driveway of the School I recalled some of my fondest memories before things got complicated and I became an adult. It was nostalgic to say the least. 

Seating for dinner the room was beautifully decorated with red walls and ornate, brocade-style gold fixtures. It was very grandeur and can only imagine it would have cost a small fortune to eat their, not just for myself and my ex-boyfriend but also for him to cater to my best friends was definitely impressive. Pulling out my chair I had some raised eyebrow looks from The Tweedles as if to warn me on what I was getting myself into. Truth be told though Mr. Ginge and I had met briefly before and we had swapped numbers, chatting for a few weeks before ending up eating dinner in a busy restaurant in my home town. This was something I had not told my boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse, for fear of him suspecting more than there was. I am a flirtatious person and Mr. Warehouse knows (Or at least I would like to think that he does) that I know where the line is and I do not cross it under any circumstances. Nevertheless here I was, across the table from my ex-boyfriend and with my best friends sitting side-by-side on the right hand side if me we continued our discussions and made up for lost time. 

Becoming more wibbily on the flowing red wine encompassed a full bodied flavour including cherries and strawberries, I could tell that Mr. Ginge was enjoying my company. Forgetting my friends, I continued to relive old memories with my ex-boyfriend including how we met. I suppose rather conventionally we were introduced to each other though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it maybe. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something, with fiery red hair and a smile to loose yourself in, he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses. Look it was like 2008 OK everyonene was still living in the days of MSN Messanger. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro. He took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for every single, scrawled letter. Smiling, acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that his boyish pokes, jokes and pushing was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse from him to touch me. Men, eh? But on the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting over E-mail. 

Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. 
"I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock to even realise he had asked me to be his girlfriend. Cocky in my teenage arrogance I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me again. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard garden at Sixth Form avoiding each other and discussing what to do with our friends. Finally, our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner but within earshot so as to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'hooked-up' couple. It was like I had just fallen into Hollywood and Mr. Ginge and I were the hottest new couple. Within a few days my world would be turned upside down forever to change me and take away my innocence and naivety, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more lows than highs and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable when the days were darker than death. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him. 

So as he got up from the table and walked round to beside me I thought that he may be going to the toilets. A moment passed as I wondered if the dining area was this grand, how grand would the restrooms be?! Snapping out of it I realised everyone in the restaurant was silent. Mr. Ginge was on the floor. On one knee. With an open black box. Suddenly the 'vino' disappeared and was in a very sobbering situation. Mr. Ginge was proposing to me. 
"Will you be my wife?" Mr. Ginge asked, batted breath from everyone including myself. A long silence ensued. I looked around. Some faces were smiling, some faces looked concerned that moments had passed and I had yet to give an answer. This is not what I planned when I got ready this evening, nor when I was messaging Mr. Ginge a few weeks beforehand.  

I looked at Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, urgent for an answer to a question I was not anticipating answering so soon, let alone from someone I was not even dating.
"Yes" I replied, shocked to even hear it myself. Cheers and an applause erupted and it felt as if I had just accepted and honorary title. Seating for the rest of the meal it flew by in a haze of congratulatory Champagne and shock. Heading to my room that evening above the restaurant, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb accompanied me and stayed the night in my bed whilst I tried in vain to get some sleep before returning to the reality of the situation I now found myself in. 

Many hours past and as I felt dawn approaching I knew it was time to go. I had to leave and get our before Mr. Ginge awoke. Hurrying the girls, hushed and silent as possible so as not to wake the other guests. As I finished getting dressed and packing my bag Mr. Ginge suddenly appeared in the room. Solemn in his change of mood, Mr. Ginge offered to take us to where we needed to go. I think he had realised, or been told, that our marriage was not possible. I was in love with Mr. Warehouse. He was my boyfriend, not Mr. Ginge. I felt awful and as I thought about having to tell Mr. Warehouse of my evening I felt hot waves of sickness wash over me once more. Whilst Mr. Ginge was my first love and a part of my heart will always belong with him, Mr. Warehouse was the person I wanted to marry and he was the one my future now lay with. 

The shock had still not dispersed as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got into Mr. Ginge's car again. I was quiet for the majority of the journey, my Tweedles doing most of the conversing with my Ex so as not to make it more awkward than it already was. It was dark. I remember passing some tavern's and old public houses, golden and alight inside with the warmth of good company and hot toddies. The darkness only made what I had done worse. I had betrayed not only my boyfriend, patiently waiting for me at home, anxious of my company I was keeping. I had also disappointed my best friends, only disclosing the full extent of my growing fantasy with my childhood-sweetheart after the out-of-the-blue proposal. As we carried on along the road I became more and more ingrained in my thoughts and suddenly the realisation about the next few hours dealing with the consequences of giving my hand in marriage to another man kicked in like a punch to the face.

It was then that I woke. Clammy and heart racing I was glad it was Mr. Warehouse I was waking up next too. Shuddering at the strange dream I had just encountered and promising myself I would later look it up in my extensive collection of dream books and sleep-interpretation encyclopedias, I snuggled into Mr. Warehouse's back. When my boyfriend finally rolled over and I kissed him gently all in the knowledge that should the moment or time ever arise, I knew what the answer would be. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx