Heyy,
It has been a while now hasn't it? You know since we indulged in all things wedding-y. And so I thought I should update you, at least since the weekend Mr Warehouse and I had was fairly plain in comparison to others that have come before it, what with Krakow and scare mazes and Halloween parties and spa days.
So throughout the summer, I decided to let wedding planning sit on the back burner, what with holidays to Malaga and a family wedding, I thought best to enjoy summer as next year I will probably be stressed to my eyeballs. That being said however I had made some crucial bookings and purchases, and, with the help of a magical fairy Godmother AKA my Irish Auntie I was able to book in hair and make-up, as well as our dream wedding car - a full-on Cruella De Vil, crossed with a Brum Lookalike! The beautiful Regent Landaulette Tourer will be ours for the day, ferrying us from my home as I leave for the church on my last ever journey as a Miss and onto our wedding Venue through the lush Bedfordshire countryside with my new Husband. The website explains how the gorgeous white car with black roof and ivory leather interior can seat more than just the Bride and Groom with space for Seven bottoms. And the most special part - The rear section of the roof can be taken down to have a semi convertible like royalty have, something I cant wait to see in the photos. Perfect for hopefully the warmer summer weather and yet prepared for a chilly winter wedding, this car has it all.
Although I was taking a back seat to wedding planning and prep, I still kept my eyes peeled for a bargain and have even been able to find the skeleton to the dress of my wildest thoughts and daydreams. As I sat scrolling through eBay, I noticed that one of my watched items had ended. Checking it, thinking it was most probably a dog costume or something cute for my newest addition to the family, I was surprised to see it was a dress. Intrigued I clicked through and saw a stunning gown for sale, but it had ended already, and with no bids as well. Disappointed to have lost out I messaged the seller, "VampGirl3000" or something odd like that. The lady explained that it was her Daughters and after buying it from a posh and expensive boutique bridal wear shop in a village locally, she had changed her mind and decided to get married abroad and therefore changed her dress. I knew the shop well and they catered for the plus-size lady and after trying on some dresses there with Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb when she was over in the Spring, I knew it was a steal at the already listed £250. Cheekily I asked if she would £150. She said no. But she did say that if I was interested she would take £200. I pushed my luck and said if she would take £175 I could collect that very week. Shockingly she accepted, and, sure as my word I rolled up at just coming up to 6pm, Miss Tweedle-Dee by my side. I was nervous as we waited by the door.
"What happens if I don't like it? What happens if I all of a sudden want a different style of dress? What happens if ..." I flapped.
"Shut the fuck up. I have been to several bridal shops with you now and every time you have tried this style of dress on and it suits you and you look beautiful in them. The others either don't suit you or are not wedding-y enough, so quit your whining. Besides, if you change your mind, it's £175, you know you could sell it for double" Miss Tweedle-Dee soothed. Soon the door was opened and we were shown upstairs and allowed some time to try it on. It fit well, and with some minor altering (to take it in and up once I lose all this fat) plus some added and minus extras it will be perfect. Almost running downstairs, my Maid of Honour barely able to catch me up, holding the dress, I squealed to the lady that I loved it and wanted to take it home. And so that day I came home with my beautiful gown, hung it up and showed my puppies.
The next thing I think on my list that I booked and organized was the DJ and Disco. Certainly the most difficult job of the day I think. Mr Warehouse and I love music and our tastes cover everything from post-world-war bops to current day and cheesey pops with everything in between. Thinking we might be able to help the man out, Mr. Warehouse and I made an evening of listening to the music channels and YouTube Wedding Playlists and selecting our top tunes. But the Top of the Pops it was not as several hours later we had not even tipped the iceberg that was anything by Sean Da Paul or Queen and we were already at four and a half hours worth of music and disco jams. This guy certainly had his work cut out and when he kindly met up with us in a local pub for a drink and a chat he certainly put us both at ease. Awkward at first, like a weird first date we talked about how Mr. Warehouse and I first met, some anecdotes on wedding planning and our lives together and a little bit about his background and type of work he does. I was settled to learn he does this most weekends and knows when to turn up the cheese and when to take it down a notch or two.
The videographer has been booked and nearly all paid for, something Mr. Warehouse fully detested, although I feel is slightly warming to the idea now. As explained all those many moons ago in my blog "Seeking out our Scorsese", when I first thought about my wedding planning journey, even as far back as college and the heady Mr. Workaholic days I realised that I would want some sort of video footage. I suppose ever since doing Media Production and Media Studies as a student I knew the importance and deep-rooted connection that you can have to a video in accompaniment with sound and vision as opposed to just a still image. The way I see it is that you cannot put a price on your memoirs and
I wanted something to start not with the preparation of the Bridal party at home but at the church just simply watching as everyone arrives, greeting familiar faces and watching people mingle before becoming forever entwined. This, in my head at least, would transition through to the moments at home as the wedding car arrives and sneak peeks of everyone's reaction to that wonderful gown before the final journeys of the bridal party to the church. Continuing to roll, the camera would capture the moment I see my groom for the first time and that all-important first glimpse, just before we become husband and wife. I am sure though that a good videographer will capture everything from the heartfelt vows through to the giggles in the speeches, flowing nicely the cutting of the cake, our very first dance as a married couple and ending with some candid shots of the Dance floor as people start to let the alcohol take control.
When I look back on my wedding video in years to come, be it after an argument, with the kids, with the grandkids even or just us, I want to be transported back to that magical day and remember all the little things that happened that I may have missed and that my eyes didn't catch. I want to listen to people give me advice and laugh at everyone's antics. I want to look back and see the faces and movements and words, listening to their voice as I remember that they are maybe no longer with us. In all of that, chances are, no matter how sharp mine or my new Hubbies memory is, we won’t remember every single detail of it off by heart and it is for this additional reasoning, as well as the emotional side why nowadays couples like me (and Mr. Warehouse) are opting to have wedding videography.
Suffice to say that with less than a year to go (in fact with ten months, four weeks and one day) to go, I am more excited than ever and cannot wait to become Mrs. Warehouse!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Disco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disco. Show all posts
Monday, 4 November 2019
Monday, 22 December 2014
Twas The Night Before Christmas ...
Hello and Good Evening One and All,
Bloggers Note: As a clear explanation to those of you reading from last week, I am fully appreciative of your comments and adore how you all keep in contact with me, however I can assure you that I am, and have been fully faithful to my boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse and as the before mentioned blog post states (The Argument that was not an Argument) I merely felt the gravitational pull. I did not, nor did I in any which way intend to act on such impulses without prior discussion with my Boyfriend. Mr. Warehouse is fully aware of what happened the moment I returned to him and then again the morning after, as well as also reading it once published, but many thanks for the concern :) - - - Love A.Lou xx
So after last weekend's debauchery I was in desperate need of taking things easy and having a bit of a relaxing weekend at home, leisurely getting ready for the Christmas/New Year take-over that is to ensue over the next few weeks. I am sure though that partying my way through Saturday evening and into the wee-small hours was not what I had in mind, especially not for the venue in mind.
After a busy day wrapping presents and journeying back and fourth between my flat and the house Mr. Warehouse shares with his mom and fluffy Labrador, I was ready for a well deserved drink - Or three. The local village pub was having a disco and with 'The X Factor' finally over for another year, myself and Mr. Warehouse succumbed to Mr. CWG's offer of a good time. Recalling the horror that was Halloween night and just how much of a flop that was my boyfriend and I were hardly expecting much more than a corny DJ belting out Michael Jackson hits and the dance-floor being emptier than a poor man's wallet. So with no other plans on the horizon I hoofed on my glad rags, assembled my eyelashes and perched myself in black heels. I was ready. Overdressed, yes. But ready all the same.
The cold December air hit us as Mr. Warehouse and I stepped out onto the pavement. The night was clear and whilst I had two pairs of tights on I could still feel the chill. Not letting on and braving it out we headed towards the warmth of the boozer, making small talk all the way. Standing outside together as I finished my cigarette we peered through the sash windows to discover the dance-floor was bustling and the bar was busy. 'Maybe tonight will be a good night?' I thought to myself. Taking one last drag and squishing out the butt with my heels I joined Mr. Warehouse and as he always did, allowed me to walk into the place first. Making somewhat of an impression (what with bare legs and a exceedingly tight, short tartan dress) I turned to attach myself to my partner in crime.
Getting the drinks in, Mr. CWG updated us all on a guy standing with one of his girl pals at the bar. He had arrived recently and been in the village about a fortnight (Yes it is that sort of village in which everyone knows everyone and everything). After failing to bed one of Mr. CWG's female friends, this mystery man had made his way onto a young lady I had met a few times when drinking with Mr. CWG and co. She was a local also and someone to be brutally honest with I did not warm to very much after our initial few encounters. But after hearing how scared she was and how this out-of-town douche-bag was acting towards her I thought that I would be the bigger person, putting aside my opinions and any animosity between us I made sure that I was near her and had my eye on him just in case he tried anything. Maybe tonight was the night to build bridges?!
Haha, isn't it funny how you form opinions of people when you first meet them and ninety-nine-percent of the time you are correct. You see, not even an hour after arriving and already there was drama unfolding. It was like being in an episode of Eastenders. As I went to the toilet I found a very scared, timid and worried little person. It was the girl from earlier. Apparently the mysterious thug had been eluding to her going home with him and saying to everyone that they were an item. Despite her previously trying to defend and almost befriend the pitiful man that everyone wanted out she seemed genuinely shaken. As she held out a quivering hand and warily asked through panicked tones if the prick had gone yet I decided to start afresh and took it, telling her that everything was going to be OK. Whilst I was certainly no regular, I knew that the small village pub contained enough locals to deal with this creep and make sure he never stepped foot in the establishment again. He had already nearly upset a regular at the bar when he tried to elbow him in the face. It was taken to another level though when Mr. Warehouse got involved. Standing at the bar waiting to be served, a click was heard. Turns out the Crim had taken a photo of the owner and for some odd reason of which I still don't know this seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back. As I held the petrified girls hand in the Loo's a brawl was unfolding outside.
Apparently my brave Mr. Warehouse asked the gentleman what he was doing taking a picture of the owner, and although this was the start of a fight, because this story is set in a small quintessential country pub I can imagine the opening lines being very British and well spoken. Without saying a word, the beastly convict stood back and squared up to my man. Even now as I retell the tale, I imagined them Peacocking before the first swipe is taken. But just as the first fist's flew, the drunkard was escorted out of the building and onto the cold concrete outside, never to be seen again. But this night was far from the end.
As the girl and I appeared from the ladies bathroom there was a buzz about the place. I returned to my boyfriend's side only to find him agitated and lightly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I placed a soft kiss upon his cheek and I could feel the film of sweat forming as a result of the anticipated dual. As I was told the story of what I had missed I watched as the actions were played out by hand, I saw from the corner of my eye though I was watching a much better performance. With only minutes passed since I found a cowering female in the bathroom, scared for what a random stranger would do, she was now downing drinks and dancing like nothing had happened at all. It was at this point I felt my opinions wane. It was later on that my overall sentiment towards Little Miss Oscar completely faded when she knowingly pocketed my lighter. BFF's I think not!
Continuing the night though, we were joined by another work colleague of Mr. Warehouse and Mr. CWG and his other half whom was absolutely lovely in comparison to the other ladies I had encountered that night, including a gargantuan lady who had tried several times to hit on Mr. Warehouse, both on Halloween and again at Saturday night's Disco. Not knowing anyone I took her under my wing and we became instant friends. I hope to see her again sometime as see seems really nice and someone I would love to get to know more. Dancing the night away we jived to the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and more Cheesey Classics reserved for Weddings and events such as this one. Drinking more and more and more, Mr. Warehouse and I noticed a certain Mr. CWG getting very, very wobbly, Watching Mr. CWG dance like a T-Rex with a shotgun wound and blowing kisses like a five-year-old was hilarious but we both knew that it would be our shoulders he was being carried home on later. And soon enough whilst having a heart to heart outside with a pub-goer, Mr. CWG stumbled through the doors and decided to prop himself up against the hard brick wall. Eventually he was slumped over it and seeing he was about to throw up I rushed to his aid, rubbing his back and making sure this time, my shoes and handbag were out the firing line.
And so the night was concluded with a long walk home, a drunken hooligan and the promises of a double-date on the cards for me and my new found friend and our other halves. Wandering back down the country roads, listening to the birds sing in the early hours of Sunday morning I realised just how much of a good night I had. It was simple but entertainingly eventful to say the least. So if Saturday night was anything to go by then roll on the party season and get into the spirit of things because in a matter of hours ... IT'S CHRISTMAAAS!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Bloggers Note: As a clear explanation to those of you reading from last week, I am fully appreciative of your comments and adore how you all keep in contact with me, however I can assure you that I am, and have been fully faithful to my boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse and as the before mentioned blog post states (The Argument that was not an Argument) I merely felt the gravitational pull. I did not, nor did I in any which way intend to act on such impulses without prior discussion with my Boyfriend. Mr. Warehouse is fully aware of what happened the moment I returned to him and then again the morning after, as well as also reading it once published, but many thanks for the concern :) - - - Love A.Lou xx
So after last weekend's debauchery I was in desperate need of taking things easy and having a bit of a relaxing weekend at home, leisurely getting ready for the Christmas/New Year take-over that is to ensue over the next few weeks. I am sure though that partying my way through Saturday evening and into the wee-small hours was not what I had in mind, especially not for the venue in mind.
After a busy day wrapping presents and journeying back and fourth between my flat and the house Mr. Warehouse shares with his mom and fluffy Labrador, I was ready for a well deserved drink - Or three. The local village pub was having a disco and with 'The X Factor' finally over for another year, myself and Mr. Warehouse succumbed to Mr. CWG's offer of a good time. Recalling the horror that was Halloween night and just how much of a flop that was my boyfriend and I were hardly expecting much more than a corny DJ belting out Michael Jackson hits and the dance-floor being emptier than a poor man's wallet. So with no other plans on the horizon I hoofed on my glad rags, assembled my eyelashes and perched myself in black heels. I was ready. Overdressed, yes. But ready all the same.
The cold December air hit us as Mr. Warehouse and I stepped out onto the pavement. The night was clear and whilst I had two pairs of tights on I could still feel the chill. Not letting on and braving it out we headed towards the warmth of the boozer, making small talk all the way. Standing outside together as I finished my cigarette we peered through the sash windows to discover the dance-floor was bustling and the bar was busy. 'Maybe tonight will be a good night?' I thought to myself. Taking one last drag and squishing out the butt with my heels I joined Mr. Warehouse and as he always did, allowed me to walk into the place first. Making somewhat of an impression (what with bare legs and a exceedingly tight, short tartan dress) I turned to attach myself to my partner in crime.
Getting the drinks in, Mr. CWG updated us all on a guy standing with one of his girl pals at the bar. He had arrived recently and been in the village about a fortnight (Yes it is that sort of village in which everyone knows everyone and everything). After failing to bed one of Mr. CWG's female friends, this mystery man had made his way onto a young lady I had met a few times when drinking with Mr. CWG and co. She was a local also and someone to be brutally honest with I did not warm to very much after our initial few encounters. But after hearing how scared she was and how this out-of-town douche-bag was acting towards her I thought that I would be the bigger person, putting aside my opinions and any animosity between us I made sure that I was near her and had my eye on him just in case he tried anything. Maybe tonight was the night to build bridges?!
Haha, isn't it funny how you form opinions of people when you first meet them and ninety-nine-percent of the time you are correct. You see, not even an hour after arriving and already there was drama unfolding. It was like being in an episode of Eastenders. As I went to the toilet I found a very scared, timid and worried little person. It was the girl from earlier. Apparently the mysterious thug had been eluding to her going home with him and saying to everyone that they were an item. Despite her previously trying to defend and almost befriend the pitiful man that everyone wanted out she seemed genuinely shaken. As she held out a quivering hand and warily asked through panicked tones if the prick had gone yet I decided to start afresh and took it, telling her that everything was going to be OK. Whilst I was certainly no regular, I knew that the small village pub contained enough locals to deal with this creep and make sure he never stepped foot in the establishment again. He had already nearly upset a regular at the bar when he tried to elbow him in the face. It was taken to another level though when Mr. Warehouse got involved. Standing at the bar waiting to be served, a click was heard. Turns out the Crim had taken a photo of the owner and for some odd reason of which I still don't know this seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back. As I held the petrified girls hand in the Loo's a brawl was unfolding outside.
Apparently my brave Mr. Warehouse asked the gentleman what he was doing taking a picture of the owner, and although this was the start of a fight, because this story is set in a small quintessential country pub I can imagine the opening lines being very British and well spoken. Without saying a word, the beastly convict stood back and squared up to my man. Even now as I retell the tale, I imagined them Peacocking before the first swipe is taken. But just as the first fist's flew, the drunkard was escorted out of the building and onto the cold concrete outside, never to be seen again. But this night was far from the end.
As the girl and I appeared from the ladies bathroom there was a buzz about the place. I returned to my boyfriend's side only to find him agitated and lightly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I placed a soft kiss upon his cheek and I could feel the film of sweat forming as a result of the anticipated dual. As I was told the story of what I had missed I watched as the actions were played out by hand, I saw from the corner of my eye though I was watching a much better performance. With only minutes passed since I found a cowering female in the bathroom, scared for what a random stranger would do, she was now downing drinks and dancing like nothing had happened at all. It was at this point I felt my opinions wane. It was later on that my overall sentiment towards Little Miss Oscar completely faded when she knowingly pocketed my lighter. BFF's I think not!
Continuing the night though, we were joined by another work colleague of Mr. Warehouse and Mr. CWG and his other half whom was absolutely lovely in comparison to the other ladies I had encountered that night, including a gargantuan lady who had tried several times to hit on Mr. Warehouse, both on Halloween and again at Saturday night's Disco. Not knowing anyone I took her under my wing and we became instant friends. I hope to see her again sometime as see seems really nice and someone I would love to get to know more. Dancing the night away we jived to the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and more Cheesey Classics reserved for Weddings and events such as this one. Drinking more and more and more, Mr. Warehouse and I noticed a certain Mr. CWG getting very, very wobbly, Watching Mr. CWG dance like a T-Rex with a shotgun wound and blowing kisses like a five-year-old was hilarious but we both knew that it would be our shoulders he was being carried home on later. And soon enough whilst having a heart to heart outside with a pub-goer, Mr. CWG stumbled through the doors and decided to prop himself up against the hard brick wall. Eventually he was slumped over it and seeing he was about to throw up I rushed to his aid, rubbing his back and making sure this time, my shoes and handbag were out the firing line.
And so the night was concluded with a long walk home, a drunken hooligan and the promises of a double-date on the cards for me and my new found friend and our other halves. Wandering back down the country roads, listening to the birds sing in the early hours of Sunday morning I realised just how much of a good night I had. It was simple but entertainingly eventful to say the least. So if Saturday night was anything to go by then roll on the party season and get into the spirit of things because in a matter of hours ... IT'S CHRISTMAAAS!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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