Love is friendship that has caught fire

Good Afternoon,  

Snow melted (again) and all but a distant memory from last week, although the lightness of the flurry made it seemingly stick around for longer, making me feel like I lived in Michigan or Canada every time I walked out of the front door to empty the bins. Alas there has been not much further progress with the spare room come office. Whilst I have indeed moved everything around and bought a nice office chair, the funky beanbag for the corner of the room has yet to be sourced, and said Mandela wall art has yet to be hung. To be honest I know how this will work - I will find multiple other things to occupy my weekend and evening time with than finish off said office / spare room and by the time I even think about getting round to it Boris would have said it is time to frequent the office again. Although when that is is another question entirely.

A week from now the country will be sat on tenterhooks as we wait to see which journalist was correct in their PM's predictions and which Newspaper is just full of dog shite like normal. This time next week we should hopefully know a little more about the reopening of the UK and a road-map to get out of this awful mess caused by Coronavirus. The BBC confirms that the death toll is fading fast with just over 250 being recorded yesterday (Sunday 14 February 2021), a drop of 50 or so in the last week. With more than 15 million people in the UK have now had their first dose of a coronavirus vaccine everyone is certainly pushing for the reopening to happen sooner rather than later. Prime Minister Boris Johnson has been aloof in his replies and ever so careful with what he is saying now in the count-down to when the government will set out a "roadmap" for easing restrictions in England on 22 February.

With months of frustration being cooped up in our houses, some with kids and others with snoring partners, you can understand why the public are chomping at the bit to get out and back to normality That being said though, this weekend I felt quite happy with the situation as it is. Celebrating Valentine's day yesterday was simply wonderful. Now I won't lie, it was hard looking back on Valentine's days of yesteryear knowing this one is not the same. Mr. Warehouse and I are not hopping on a train to London for the weekend as we would normally do. We were not, as we were last year, writing in our cards to each other the number of days until we were husband and wife, and I have yet to save that "Hubby" card for yet another year.

But despite the hardship and turmoil, we had fun. The morning was spent sipping coffee and reading our cards as we watched mindless TV and ate Percy Pig Pancakes (But I like to call him Peter Pork Head - sounds more street) from Marks and Spencer (which, like a brat, I was insisting Mr Warehouse buy me - Although annoyingly we forgot the Percy Pig Sauce). The afternoon we donned our wellies and fluffy big coats to walk the puppo's down at a local park and I was pleasantly surprised at the little one's recall ability, albeit with a tennis ball in hand.

That evening, after Mr Warehouse's other love (Arsenal) he made me a beautiful dinner which was incredible, again from the British establishment - Marks and Spencer. On the website First Dates (not from when I was on it I must say) Fred Sirieix serves up a fuss-free and next-level-tasty Dine-In-deal; Because to be fair where else are we going for a meal out other than maybe another room of our own home!? For us, it all started with a Gastropub inspired Runny centre scotch egg served on a bed of rocket. Next up was a rack of lamb smothered in a mustard herb crust served with the most fluffy and crispy triple cooked chips. To end on a super-sweet note, it’s got to be the cookie crumb topped billionaires dessert with chocolate and caramel sauce with caramel and Belgian chocolate ganache! Although by the time we got round to the dessert we were stuffed.

Of course, no Valentine's feast would be complete without a top tipple and chocs so the chocolate love bug choccies and dessert are our little Monday night treat. Speaking of which, I best go an stick dinner in ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

The next sands I feel between my toes ...

Evening, 

And so back down to earth and to the "new normal", or in our instance, just the plain old normal from before, just with the added holiday blues. Last week I wrote to you from our holiday chalet caravan in Newquay. This week I write to you from my desk, or at least what can be called my desk, in my spare room listening to the rain in the background as Mr Warehouse watches some loud twenty-something Youtube Vloggers loudly discussing their sexual exploits and prowess. 

After Monday's visit to Cornwalls pride, Healey's Cyder Farm (and after spending a small fortune on apple juice, cider, chutneys and jams) Tuesday was a more relaxing day out to St. Ives, just a few miles down the north coast of Cornwall. Known for its surf beaches (and I mean isn't everywhere in Cornwall), its art scene is just as prominent. The seafront Tate St Ives gallery has modern art exhibitions focusing on British artists and outside in the harbour isn't any different with many an art shop or small independent gallery. And if the beaches and harbours weren't tickling your fancy you could always take a stroll through the nearby Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. However, Mr Warehouse and I did not nearly get into an argument on the train with a local "Asthmatic" over not wearing a face-covering for nothing (from Monday 15 June 2020 everyone must wear a face covering when travelling by public transport in England - Unless you have a valid exemption certificate of which my fiance had. Me, on the other hand, kept quiet and hoped she wouldn't start on me). 

Oh no. We were stomping down to the jetty to board a vessel that would take us to sea so we could fish. On the website where we (I) booked, StIvesFishingtrips.com, they say that the St Ives bay is by far "your best chance to catch mackerel in the summer months as it is and has been a mackerel hot spot for years" and to be fair to them, that it was. 

As well as mackerel we were expected to also catch other species including Cod, John Dory, Red Gurnard, Scad, Pilchards and Haddock for your tea, or not. Our trip was only 1 hour & 30 minutes in total and once we hit open ocean we didn't have to travel far and were fishing within 5 minutes. As the only full-time fishing boat in St Ives, Mr Warehouse and I expected to be coupled up with maybe one or two other couples, possibly even just ourselves given it was still early days of everything being back up and running after the pandemic, however, with our friendly but firm deckhands we had the best experience of sea fishing. And with a little help and using top of the range rods and reels I was even able to catch something. Although as our bucket filled and my future hubby and I waited for the deckhands to un-hook all of the fish (so no risk of hooks in hands which are very painful as I experienced a little prick from one) I could feel my insides squirm a little as I watched the fish gasp for air and thrash around in their final moments. I can and could understand why some people would not feel comfortable with this and whole-heartedly would be against it altogether, however, with the boat able to take up to 10 passengers I would certainly do it again and almost 100% so with kids in-toe too, moreso to teach them of life and death and the circle of life and where we all come from and that shit. Well, that and free food!

And although we never got to go to Seal Island, just west of town, to see the seal colony, we were greeted when we came back into harbour with a friendly sea-doggo. As we carried our 8 fish out of the harbour (you think that's a lot, we caught over 14 although Mr Warehouse didn't want to being any home so I thought 8 was a compromise) we felt tired and ready for home time. 

Wednesday was a day out for all the family (not that the dogs couldn't have come with us on the boat, they could have, however an inquisitive labrador and rambunctious puppy was the last thing I think anyone needed on board - Maybe next time pups). Land's End. An area of beautiful scenery and cliff faces, Ocean views for days, Lands End Landmark is a headland in western Cornwall, about eight miles west-south-west of Penzance. To the south of it is the English Channel, and to the North, the Celtic Sea. Out to the East is the rest of England and out to the West was the Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, it was a really foggy day and on leaving Newquay I was annoyed I may not see much and it would be a wasted trip, however, on arrival, it seemed pleasant enough. With miles and miles of open land to walk and crags to investigate it would have been perfect a few years ago, but sadly our older pooch just isn't up for walking that far now. But she did manage up to the tea room for a Hot Chocolate and some more photos. It was quite warm to be honest as well, as it had been most the week, overcast but warm. As we sat and admired the beauty I thought about how lucky I was and grateful I am of the dogs, sitting nicely and patiently waiting whilst we finished our beverages, ready for the next adventure, albeit back to the car. 

Thursday we packed up, sadly so but also looking forward to getting home and to our own comfy beds, and after a pit stop to the Newquay Riding Stables at Trenance Stables, a holiday staple now every time I visit Cornwall. Riding out along the River Gannel estuary, sandy mud bog under hoof I felt at ease and wholly relaxed. I wish it could never end, but it had too and as we trotted back into the stables I thanked the staff once again for an incredible experience riding out along the sand dunes and rivers, I just wish our little ones could join us by the hooves, riding out as many hounds and horses have done over the years. 

As lunchtime approached, Mr Warehouse drove us all back to Newquay to dine on fish and chips by the seafront. Looking out over the beach I became emotional. I thought back to the horrible moment I had to drop our Golden Oldie off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back and how I whispered in here ear flaps, soft and blonde, "I promise we will bring you to Newquay one day so you can feel the sand between your toes and run and play on the shoreline." My thoughts then turned to the fact that here we were and that the next time Mr Warehouse and I visited, maybe even to the same bench, it would not be with her at our feet. Swiping away a tear and sharing my last fish and chip scraps between the two pups, I was sad to be leaving but excited too as it meant we were just that little bit closer to our wedding. 

After a short run along the beach and a play in the wet sands it really was time to leave and as we buckled the pair of them into the back seat, boot filled to the brim, Mr Warehouse started our journey home. Six-and-a-bit hours there and just over five-hours back wasn't bad going. For the short term, we will have our fudge and rock, jams and cider, but until we meet again beachy shores. I suppose thinking about it our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The UK's Independence Day

Hello, 

After being back at work now for coming up to a fortnight tomorrow with our "new normal", it sufficient to advise that not much has changed, and you can take from that what you will. My god though, I am certainly glad to have a break from the office next week. 

As we enter our fifteenth week of lockdown in the UK the 100-days mark has well and truly been and gone. Like the springtime we missed, the UK is slowly blooming again with business and social activities being reopened within the next week in most if not all areas of England with Scotland and Wales to follow suit soon after I expect. With figures from the BBC released today confirming that just 25 people recorded in the last 24 hours have passed away from Coronavirus (Monday 29 June 2020) it is looking like we are over the worst of it. 

As explained before, the disease COVID-19, was first confirmed in the UK at the end of January, however, the number of daily confirmed cases and related deaths only began to soar significantly by the second half of March and after lockdown restrictions came into force at the end of that month, numbers came to a peak mid-April, falling steadily ever since. The BBC confirms though that some of these deaths "are likely to include people with undiagnosed coronavirus or those who died as an indirect result of the pandemic. Coronavirus accounted for about 11% of all deaths in the UK in the week to 12 June, according to death registration data - a drop from 14% the previous week. In the week to 17 April, when deaths from the virus reached their peak, this figure was just under 40%."

Whilst this may be true and the scaremongering continues, I received a good news phone call last week that was certain to brighten any dreary news Mr Warehouse and I was to see. Several months ago in what can only be described as a wet and uneventful January, I wrote New Year, Newquay. Now normally at that time of year I would be gearing myself right up for convincing Mr Warehouse to save up and go on a beachy break away somewhere teasing him with thoughts of eating out every night, romantic boat trips and cocktail hour all hours. But as the holiday adverts rolled round on Telly and Jess Glynn sang about holding your hand on the Thomas Cook film (RIP), this year Mr Warehouse put his foot down and said we would not be going. His words were "we have a wedding to pay for" and mine was "Pleeeeease". Whilst he had a point, with less than nine months to go until the big day, I really wanted to beach it up somewhere and enjoy the last holiday on my Passport as a 'Miss', besides I didn't even get to take my engagement ring with me. 

So with Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist me mentioning a holiday to Cornwall. One of his favourite places, we hadn't been back there [Newquay] since a family wedding several years ago and both of us had missed it ever since. The following year after visiting for said wedding, our Older pooch got poorly with her Pyometra and we promised her as we went to Vet appointment that we would take her there one day to feel the sand between her paws. Now whilst she has since been to Great Yarmouth and Bournemouth on little holibobs, Newquay holds something special for Mr Warehouse and I both, something we want to share with our fur babies, old and new. 

With little resistance, I convinced Mr Warehouse to book off a week and head down to the English Riviera. After much hunting and scouring the web for the best deal, I found the perfect pre-wedding-moon! Boasting a bar and free WiFi, Retallack Resort & Spa was situated in Padstow, just 10 miles from Newquay's beautiful beaches. There is a restaurant serving British cuisine, and free private parking is available. However, at close to £300 the £40 per dog per stay was a little too steep and instead, we decided to park that property for another visit. If only it wasn't a four-odd hour journey that would have been the ideal and perfect place to wake up as a newly-wed. Oh well, I am sure I can make an excuse to make a trip down that way for a stay. And so Mr Warehouse and I settled with a stay at the Ladyevelyn situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort. Just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. The Newquay Bay can cater to all of our needs with fantastic facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment. 

Less than a mile to the nearest beach (Porth Beach) our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and puppies can come - Free. Of. Charge. Each static caravan has a fully equipped kitchen with a microwave, a fireplace, a seating area with a sofa, a flat-screen TV and a private bathroom with a shower and a hairdryer. A fridge, an oven and stovetop are also offered, as well as a kettle and a coffee machine. A bicycle rental service is available at the reception and with more beaches to explore including Lusty Glaze and Tolcarne Beach within a few minutes it isn't hard to see why we chose it. 

So last week as I sat at my desk my mobile buzzed with a phone call from a number I didn't recognise. Answering I was introduced to an older sounding gentleman who said he owned the Chalet that we were going to be staying in. Explaining that since the Government had announced last week that pubs, restaurants and holiday accommodation could open as of July the 4th he was calling to confirm the booking. Ecstatic we chatted for a little while as I learnt that him and his wife were newly semi-retired and had just celebrated their golden wedding anniversary, celebrating earlier in the year with a cruise around the Caribbean, just in time to come back to this mess we call Corona! Asking what time we would like to arrive I asked what would be the earliest as Mr Warehouse and I was hoping to travel down in the wee-small hours of Sunday ready to make the most of our trip. 

As I waited with bated breath, the Chalet owner explained that this wouldn't be a problem since him and his wife had been living there throughout the COVID19 pandemic but would be moving out as of the Saturday night and with the place ready for us as early as we could get there Sunday morning. Sounded blissful, apart from the nigh-on six-hour drive! Finally we could relax and as I bid the owner a farewell down the telephone (he had to get back to work driving the buses around Cornwall) I couldn't contain how excited I was. 

Finally, I can now visit Bodmin Jail (since we couldn't do that on our last trip), maybe a visit to Lands End and 100% going back to the horse riding place for a gallop across the sands. To think that my little Frankenstein has never experienced sand in between his little webbed toe-beans (feet/paws). I suppose its the best of both worlds - One didn't want a holiday, the other wanted a normal beach abroad holibob - A happy compromise, something we will have to learn as a newly married couple .. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Death is a Lesson - It Tells Us Not To Waste Time

Afternoon Everyone, 

Several weeks in the UK is still amongst a Lockdown never seen before, even during the ware era, from the dreaded COVID-19 Coronavirus. With Boris Johnson (Britains Prime Minister) having been taken into intensive care and ICU over the last week, Downing Street is still stating a national emergency and to continue with the hundreds and continues into the thousands it is no wonder the NHS is on its knees struggling. I know this for a fact as I visited a hospital today, not as a fact-finding mission or in an effort to get a front line look at the crisis, but because someone very dear to me is very, very ill. 

A couple of weeks ago now I received a phone call from my Uncle Golf, my Mother's Brother, to let me know that my Scottish Grandmother had taken a turn for the worst and was in the hospital. Being in her eighties, I didn't really think too much of it as she was old and frail. She had been in bed ever since myself and my other Nanny Pumpkin had gone to Krakow back in Early October, and truth be told that things had not really improved since then. Good news, however, was that she had been cleared from the COVID-19 Coronavirus several times and that seemingly it was a case for pneumonia, swelling of the tissue in one or both lungs, usually caused by a bacterial infection. At the end of the breathing tubes in your lungs are clusters of tiny air sacs and if these tiny sacs become inflamed and fill up with fluid, this can lead to pneumonia. 

Every day that went by Uncle Golf would text us all a daily update on how she was getting on and the different phone calls or conversations he had with doctors and nurses looking after her. All seemed well and she was eating and drinking and getting back to normal, even talk of her being discharged. However, this morning as Mr Warehouse sat eating breakfast and contemplating doing something productive with our last day of a four-day bank holiday other than binge-watching Tiger King on Netflix, I got a phone call. It was Uncle Golf. 
"Things aren't looking good and honestly they are not going to get better from here" he began, becoming choked up as he spoke. We continued to talk as he explained that Nana just wasn't getting better and that doctors had said to prepare the family and try to make the rounds in everyone seeing her before curtain call. 

And so as 2pm rolled over on my car clock I met my Auntie, Cousin and Uncle in the hospital car park, walking in together for support. My Auntie looked tearful and tired-red eyes filled with sadness. My Uncle was quiet but strong. My cousin seemed to not really know the severity of it all, however, I am told despite being only sixteen, he knows what is happening and the likely outcome. I was half expecting my Mother to show up, but apparently her spotlight, I mean quality time, was yesterday.

Walking in the whole place seemed quiet and less busy than I would have imagined it being a bank holiday Monday, although that being said though we are amongst a national Lockdown. The ward smelt like bleach and chlorine, clean and clinical. Stepping into the sister's office I was donned in a plastic surgeon gown and face mask (even though studies show they don't make a difference when it comes to COVID-19 Coronavirus). Nana was sat in an almost biblically white room, angel-like as she lay in bed with her hair white as snow and blankets piled high. She looked comfortable. I began talking and introduced myself as if we had never met. 

Struggling to think of things to say I talked about my baby-pooch, Frankenstein whom she was quite fond of, always asking about him when I called. Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always describing them as a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. As she sat there silently and shut-eyed, I recalled the first time she met him, picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest. 

It's funny. I wrote a few months ago in the Summer of last year following a visit about how I thought, as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. And now today, as I sat by her bedside on her way out that I would. Although she looked much, much different now with her soft white curls flat and as lifeless as she seemed. I giggled at the thought of how they would wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years and all the mischief she would get up to. 

Pauses came and went as she tried to say something (I think so anyway). Deciding that she could hear me and even if she couldn't it was better than sitting in silence as I watched my Grandmother slip closer and closer to the Grim Reaper, I continued talking. I talked about Mr Warehouse and how I am still working throughout these crazy times and how in a few months hopefully when this is all blown over Mr Warehouse and the dogs are going to Cornwall on a Pre-Wedding holiday. 
"Remember the time that you came with us as a family on holiday with Mum and Dad when I was little. Really little. And I lost my bunny rabbit. Remember the brown furry one with leather padded paws?" I told her excitedly, hoping it might garner a response. Nothing. 
"Do you remember how upset I was and how I cried the whole journey home to without him. And remember how some nice person posted it back to us?" I continued, again with little to no response. 

Changing the subject I thought might help and so I spoke about my upcoming wedding that ultimately she probably won't make and how wonderful it is going to be with all the decorations and the dress and the church. It got me thinking about the story she told me of her and my Granda. I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger. 

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

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


Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish, maybe now more than ever. I thought about that warm August day last year as she sat in her rocking chair and recalled how the day went as my little fur baby fell asleep curled-up on the jazzy carpet. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be. 

Unfortunately, it was time for me to leave and as I kissed her on the forehead goodbye I told her it was OK to go now and to say hello to Granda for me (he died when I was only four-months-old). She sighed and made a slight noise, but I am almost certain she didn't know who I was or why I was there. Nevertheless, the prognosis does not look good and the outlook is bleak. How long? Nobody knows, could be hours, could be weeks or it could be months. All we do know is she is being cared for by the best people in the Biz and is comfier that I could ever hope for.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

New Year - Newquay!

Hello, 

Sunshine hitting my face and my thighs getting warm. Oh, how I missed the feeling of the beach and summer holidays. Normally I would be gearing myself right up for eating out every night, romantic boat trips and cocktail hour all hours, however, this year Mr Warehouse put his foot down and said we would not be going on holiday this year with his words being "we have a wedding to pay for" and whilst this is true, with less than nine months to go I really wanted to beach it up somewhere and enjoy the last holiday on my Passport as a 'Miss'. 

So with Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist me mentioning a holiday to Cornwall. One of his favourite places, we hadn't been back to Newquay since a family wedding several years ago and both of us had missed it ever since. The following year after visiting for said wedding, our Older pooch got poorly with her Pyometra and we promised her as we went to Vet appointment after Vet appointment that we would take her there one day to feel the sand between her paws. Now whilst she has since been to Great Yarmouth and Bournemouth on little holibobs, Newquay holds something special for Mr Warehouse and I both, something we want to share with our fur babies. 

With little resistance, I convinced Mr Warehouse to book off a week and head down to the English Riviera. After much hunting and scouring the web for the best deal, I found the perfect pre-wedding-moon! Boasting a bar and free WiFi, Retallack Resort & Spa was situated in Padstow, just 10 miles from Newquay's beautiful beaches. There is a restaurant serving British cuisine, and free private parking is available. All units at the Spa Hotel Resort came overlooking the gorgeous lakes and grounds and each boasts a kitchen with plenty of amenities including microwave and tea and coffee making facilities. A private bathroom boasts complimentary toiletries and a luxurious soft bed. The seating area and a flat-screen TV are also appreciated by guests staying not to mention the fact that doggies can come too! However, at close to £300 the £40 per dog per stay was a little too steep and instead, we decided to park that property for another visit, choosing to spend a little on a cheap break away and enjoy our Honeymoon more. If only it wasn't a four-odd hour journey that would have been the ideal and perfect place to wake up as a newly-wed. Oh well, I am sure I can make an excuse to make a trip down that way for a stay. 

And so Mr Warehouse and I settled with a stay at the Ladyevelyn situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort. Just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. The Newquay Bay can cater to all of our needs with fantastic facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment. 

Less than a mile to the nearest beach (Porth Beach) our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and puppies can come - Free. Of. Charge. Each static caravan has a fully equipped kitchen with a microwave, a fireplace, a seating area with a sofa, a flat-screen TV and a private bathroom with a shower and a hairdryer. A fridge, an oven and stovetop are also offered, as well as a kettle and a coffee machine. A bicycle rental service is available at the reception and with more beaches to explore including Lusty Glaze and Tolcarne Beach within a few minutes it isn't hard to see why we chose it. 

Finally, I can now visit Bodmin Jail (since we couldn't do that on our last trip), maybe a visit to Lands End and 100% visiting the horse riding place to go galloping across the sands. To think that my little Frankenstein has never experienced sand is going to be entertaining and sweet to watch as well.

The best of both worlds I suppose. One didn't want a holiday, the other wanted a normal beach abroad holibob - A happy medium being a few days in Cornwall, visiting family, eating and drinking out, maybe a sesh and some lovely walks on the beach with our pooches. What could be better?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Little Puppers All Grown Up!

Heyy, 

Lounging on the sofa at Momma Warehouse's house that she shares with her boyfriend, it was like being a kid again and coming back home (I imagine haha). Coffee was made for you and barely mentioning the fact you liked the coffee percolator earned me one that they had hidden in the backroom somewhere. Roast dinner to follow with heaps of food and pudding to drown in. This was living the life right? 

And so as the conversation turned to wedding stuff, dresses, outfits and hen-do's, I happened to be constantly distracted by my little bundle of fluff. In less than a month Frankenstein would soon be a year old and as he rough-and-tumbled with his sister, a short-haired double of him and looking more like a Dachshund than a Jackapoo, I knew that getting him was one of the best things in life. 

I will never forget that Tuesday evening, as Mr. Warehouse and I had prepared ourselves for bed with our eldest Pooch as we normally did, turning off the telly, closing down the lights and going into lock down making sure all doors and windows were shut. It was about quarter to ten at night when the phone rang. I looked at Mr. Warehouse as I showed him the caller ID. It was his Mom, my future mother-in-law. Worried I answered and before she even had a chance to explain I promptly told her that this was about the time that people call in the night when someone has died. 

"Do you want to see some puppies?" she said simply and calmly like some sort of child molester. I mean, of course I did. Immediately hitting redial to facetime her. No sooner had she accepted the call I saw a bundle of fluffiness. A little white girl with patches of brown and black splodging her body, another smooth black and tan puppy and a third wirey black and tan fur baby. Instantly I start freaking out. 

"I am being serious" my future mother-in-law continued, stern "We're leaving in five minutes and were taking one of the girls so which one do you want?" 

Suddenly everything seemed real and I focused my twilight mind from puppies and cute faces on a screen. Like a child to her parents, I turned to my beloved fiance and pleaded with him to let me get one. After a few pushes, he seemed to give in reluctantly knowing I would probably do whatever I would want regardless of what he had to say. After further talks, we discovered that it was a friend of a friend who used to breed toy poodles who gave it up to look after her sick husband at home who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia. Unfortunately one night back in early December the Husband had let the breeding stud in with the family pet, a Jack Russell terrier and she fell pregnant. several months later and around Valentine's day a surprise, or nine, were delivered. The lady herself knew nothing about it as she had been so busy with Christmas, New Year and looking after her husband and home she had neglected to notice her dog's belly growing. 


With the unexpected litter now twelve-weeks old they were already a month passed being legally allowed to leave their mother and so she took the decision to find them homes. One of the first questions I asked my future mother-in-law was how much. Bearing in mind that the Toy Poodle / Jack Russell mix would already be a popular choice for families as they are intelligent, active little things, small enough to be around kids and hypoallergenic so great for allergy sufferers. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The reason being is that not only was it a terrible accident because her poorly husband had not known that they no longer bred dogs, but also that as a result of this expenses had already been stretched by extra food and what not. The added vaccinations, chipping, insurance and everything else that normally comes with a new puppy would have financially not been possible for the poor lady and her husband and so she wanted to give them away to families that would love and care for them as she had, making sure they were their forever homes. 

Within a few days there I was, gazing out of the window at the setting sun. I had been waiting all day for this moment. Truth be told, I had been waiting for this moment for pretty much my whole life since being a toddler. Seeing the blue rickety old van pull into the street I came running down the stairs, the pit of my stomach flipping nervously as it filled with anxiety and anticipation at what was to come. 

"They're here! They're here!" I squeaked excitedly at Mr. Warehouse as he too peered out the window at the arriving vehicle. 

Opening the door I stood patiently at the front door with the rest of the family, like a mother ready to accept her newborn. Ushering me over to the van I peered in and saw the sweetest little bundle of tuft. Black and tan, with a white belly I scooped him up and took him into his new home. Welcome home our little Frankenstein - An homage to my love of all things spooky, Halloween and macabre. That but also the fact he was made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog. 

And since that moment we really have been through hell and back. My practise baby has well and truly tested my limits and pushed me to extremes I thought were not possible with a small tiny fluffy. From the early days, it wasn't easy. Mr Warehouse were on the back foot when it came to training after getting Frankenstein at twelve-weeks we had already lost a month of the most crucial period of a young dog's life. Sleepless nights ensued as my Fiance and I tackled the Satanic Separation Anxiety, from yips and howls to barks and cries. But it didn't just stop there as when we went to work we would be constantly worried for the text that would come through from the neighbours, politely asking if we were coming home soon as our little monster was kicking off. 

Nearly a year since he was born I can honestly say it is not for the ill-equipped or the faint-hearted. Puppy ownership is hard. Owning a dog is difficult, but one of the most rewarding things I think I have ever put my time and effort into and I don't know if I could be more in love with my little man if I tried!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Best Christmas Gift of All is Family

Evening one and all, 

2020! Here. It. Is. Finally, the countdown can really begin to our wedding day! Eeek! But first I feel I need to explain as this is not only my first writing of the new decade, but also that it has been some time. Apologies as Christmas and New Years really did take over a little and I went from manic at my desk to my day job being catching up on crap telly and being Mr Warehouse's chauffeur to and from work (Unfortunately he had to work between the Christmas/New Year slump whilst I got it off). That being said I was glad of the break. 

Christmas went well. Or at least as well as to be expected. The evening before, Christmas Eve, was spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee eating fine food and drinking over-priced red wine. I had hoped that maybe Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb would have been over before this point that they could have shared however this was not the case and at that precise moment were probably boarding said plane from L.A. to make the long journey back home. Nevertheless, Mr Warehouse and I were spoilt with gifts of chocolate and smellies and other treats, but the best thing was the experience vouchers she bought for us; Mr Warehouse's was an "Escape Room" experience to test our teamwork and nerves, and mine was a "Pig Petting Day". Looking on the website, Kew Little Pigs, I can tell already this is right up my street and I am ecstatic Miss Tweedle-Dee bought it for me! 

The website describes the Piggy Pet and Playday as a chance to meet a bunch of lovable new friends at Kew Little Pigs. "Discover a piggy paradise inside the petting pen for an hour and a half of fun, where you’ll meet the pigs by name, pet and play with them, and give them a good groom. The miniature pigs come in all shapes and sizes, each with their own unique personality, so guaranteed you’ll meet some real characters. Selfie seekers are always welcome, as the pigs love the spotlight and know exactly how to strike a pose!" Heading home I slipped into some new Pyjama's and desperately tried to stay awake to watch Elf - Our family Christmas movie, but with everyone cuddled up on the sofa, I could barely keep my eyes open. Heading to bed I snuggled into my plush Teddy Bear duvet set and drifted off to sleep. 

Christmas Day started well, gifts and presents from Mr Warehouse and I to our beloved animals, Frankenstein not quite understanding what was going on and our older one knowing exactly what was happening and where all the treats were! Mr Warehouse had bought some beautiful jewellery sets, earrings and necklaces as well as many a bath bomb (forever on my Christmas and Birthday Wish lists) as well as some more practical items such as salt and pepper shakers and make-up removal pads. Although I cannot be surprised when we did the Poundland Christmas Challenge. You take £10.00, visit your local Poundland (or discount retailer) and attempt to fill a stocking, in this instance for our better halves. It was such fun when doing it the weekend before Christmas, running around and hiding from each other whilst trying to sneakily hide so as not to get caught. What did I get Mr Warehouse you ask? Well, I thought that the replacement Stanley knife blades (mainly for his work), giant gummy cola bottle and water bottle all went down well as odd but appreciated presents. I think even when we have children, a big house and money is tight, I would like to always have this as our little thing we do every year. 

Following our fun, we packed up the car and headed over to my (future) brother-and-sister-in-laws house for presents with the kids, one niece and two nephews! Just as we finished unwrapping their generous gifts of more chocolate, alcohol and smellies Mr Warehouse's older brother and his wife arrived with their son and we continued the festivities until lunch. making a move we promised to see them again tomorrow and made our way to Nanny Pumpkins where the whole family was waiting for us. My Uncle from Ireland was over and so was my other uncle which was nice and my cousins were hyper full of chocolate and sugar no doubt being Christmas. Dad was on Dinner duties and Nanny was relaxing with my Auntie and a glass (or two) nattering away. Coming into the chaos I was glad to have made the decision I had to be involved this year as I was not in the best place last year. 

Just before we sat down to the feast we handed out our gifts and took receipt of mine and Mr Warehouse's appreciatively including a Chocolate Afternoon Tea experience, a meal out voucher, books, gaming gear (For the fiance) and other goodies. I noted though that Dad was quiet. After a difficult year for both of us and without going into too much detail, I wondered if I would have ever spent a Christmas with him again. I saw he was getting emotional and I knew what gift had put him there. I had thought many weeks ago about what final present I could get him when I came up with a good idea for a photo book containing as many pictures and photos of myself and my brother as possible. I knew it would cause some emotion to stir up and assumed that he would know what it was as soon as he opened it and just shuffle it away, but he didn't. He opened it and with that opened himself and started to weep in front of the family, something he was not able to do easily. I knew it was a good gift and wiping away the tears, his look told me that too.

Following dinner and pudding and games, people started to drift home, although not wanting to Mary Celeste my Nanny completely Mr Warehouse, the doggo's and I stayed for a little, chatting softly to my Nan as my Uncle dozed in the next room. It was at that point that I completely forgot about our present from our Wedding Photographer - Sophie Ann! A few days ago we had received a really sweet Christmas card from her, explaining that this was indeed my last Christmas as a Miss and that she looked forward to working with us in the new year. In there also was a raffle ticket that won a special Christmas present! We were number 37. But wait where was the raffle ticket. I panicked. Did it get thrown our with the wrapping paper rubbish? Was it tossed away? Oh god no! Searching I found it in the bottom of a gift bag and proceeded to Social Media to hunt for the big reveal. There it was for all to see. Selected number? 37! WE WON! Mr Warehouse had won a free engagement photo shoot and a chance to meet our photographer and chat before the big day. Uhhh what a weight off our mind! This truly had been one of the best Christmases in a while. No one argued, No one fought, No one drank too much. A classy Christmas all round. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Pups first visit to see Santa-Paws

Bonjourno!

Ohh how I wish I was going anywhere where the language is anything but English. I. Need. A. Holiday!!! But following the debacle from last week and the costly bill that Clifford, my Fiat 500L, gave me I am certainly not going anywhere sunny or exotic, I think even Newquay would be a stretch. Nevertheless, I have thrown myself into full-blown Christmas Smish-mas mode and that includes visiting the big man. 

Back in September, I was scrolling through my daily emails when I came across one from a local garden centre, quite well known in the area. Not really reading it properly I thought it was regarding my wedding flowers and some ideas or thoughts regarding styling since I had asked them for a quotation. However, this was not the case and on opening it up I discovered the wonders of what the garden centre could offer at this time of year. 

Reading through the email, it explained how Frosts Garden Centre were opening their grotto exclusively for dog lovers! "You and your four-legged friend can enjoy the ultimate Santa experience" I continued reading, enthralled by it all. With a choice of six sessions available the visit was to be jam-packed with photo opportunities and includes mixing your own doggie treats and of course meeting Santa! As if that wasn't enough, each owner also receives a mince pie as well as a special treat for our canine friends too! 

Wasting no time like an excited parent I booked the visit and text Mr Warehouse to let him know the good news. Anticipation built and as the day got closer I talked openly with my work colleagues what I would be doing on my morning away from the office. They were surprised and whilst most giggled and laughed, a lot of them would (and have) asked where they can get tickets. 

Arriving on the day, all of us in dressed in Christmas jumpers, we finally found the Grotto after much hunting around the flowers and granny scarves on sale. It honestly looked like a shed, but with our elf waiting outside for us, we skipped up to the front gates and were taken inside the magical winter wonderland created. 

Frankenstein was less than impressed by the penguin animatronics, standing to attention and refusing to let the penguins get me, guarding his Dog Mom from the strangely suited birds. I think I even heard a growl and a yap from his nervous stance. The older one, however, was quietly amused by it all, wagging all the way and probably wondering why we have to come to such a place. But our Pooch loved Christmas and always gets a bit nervy and upset when the decorations come down in January. 

Snapping away some blurred pictures of our nine-month-old pup we skipped through the frozen landscape and into the Elves workshop. Here we got to pick and choose a doggy bag quite literally, selecting some treats and biscuits for our little fur babies. Safely squirrelled away we were guided by our Elf through to Santa's sitting room, a full log burning fire awaiting us to warm our toes and even a mince pie for Dog Mom over here (Diet going right out the window)! Standing by the huge Christmas Tree, perfectly lit in lights and beautiful decorations we had some family pictures, smiling for the camera. 

Just as we were about to finish the big man himself arrived. Welcoming himself to us and our pups, he was short for a Santa, however, the awe we were in was palpable. Never had I ever thought I would be this excited to see Father Christmas, and yet here I was, my baby pup and big pup, both ready to have their picture taken for our family Christmas Cards. Posing was difficult enough though and trying to get us all to smile at the camera and not wink or blink or sneeze or turn away was a chore in itself, and that was us human's. Holding Frankenstein in my arms I was certain that was a memory to cherish forever and ever, and, after receiving a gift from Mr Claus himself, Mr Warehouse and I continued our walk through the Reindeer forest and into the gift shop to look at our photos. Choosing one, we purchased a copy and looked forward to sending out the memories with family. 

Would we do it again? Probably not, unless we knew it was maybe oldies last Christmas, but even then I think I would want to try somewhere else. At £9.99 for one owner and dog (plus £1.99 per additional owner and £6.99 per additional dog), it wasn't cheap, combining with the £7.50 per photo not to mention multiple other gift options available and it could turn into an expensive morning out. However, I cannot fault the staff and how special they made it for our first Christmas as a paw-some foursome, although I would say that Frosts Garden Centre could make it a little easier to find Santa's Grotto as it was rather difficult to locate (as could be expected) and therefore we were running slightly late to our appointment and therefore whilst not rushed along, felt as though we needed to speed up our experience. All in all, though I certainly cannot wait until next year and our next photo opportunity. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Driving uphill with the brakes on

Hi, 

And so there I was, talking last week about how after months of not settling and terrible nights and even worse morning routines, I had an all-round better pup. That was until I came home to yet again more books, magazines and paper shredded into tiny pieces. Puppy ownership has really been a handful and I thought that I would be coming to the end of what was a difficult patch, but now it seems as though Frankenstein is going through an even more destructive phase than before. The last time he was this destructive it was the carpet that was the victim, in the end, something which we have only just got round to changing over to hard floor last week, costing us a pretty penny we could have really kept back for a rainy day ... or maybe just a normal Saturday. 

I had my MOT on Clifford, my Fiat 500L in red back in September and after passing with an advisory to come back in a few months before the snow and get the brakes checked and have a full winter health check I booked in my appointment back then and thought nothing more of it. Looking at my calendar on Saturday morning with a long list of things to do including Christmas shopping for last-minute bits, a trip to the skip to dump the old carpet and seeing family, not to mention at some point putting up the Christmas Dec's, the last thing I needed was an out of the way almost appointment to the car garage. 

Nevertheless, Mr Warehouse convinced me to go, just get it checked and for the ten or fifteen minutes in order to have peace of mind over the winter and into Spring. Allowing Mr Warehouse to drive (he has been doing some lessons and is actually really close to passing hopefully in the new year) we pulled into the garage, the 1.3 litre, 5-door multijet seemed fine and I hoped it would be a quick in-and-out jobbie. Alas, the garage was running low on staff due to sickness so it would be about a couple of hours, so Mr Warehouse and I headed off to the small shopping precinct across the road and grabbed some last-minute pressies, haemorrhaging money left, right and centre. 

A few hours later we started heading back, and just as we headed around the corner I got a call from the garage. It wasn't good news. Made to feel like a complete fucking idiot of a woman I was asked when I had the brake pads changed. I explained that I have only had the car for a matter of a few months now (nine months in total) and have not had any work done on him as yet. the mechanic sounded perplexed. 
"So are you aware that there are brand new brake pads fitted onto what was then very worn and barely legal brake discs?" The Mechanic said. Explaining further some of the other items that needed doing including two front tyres needing as bald and split, I asked for the price, expecting it to be a couple of hundred quid. So when I heard over £780.00 I nearly fell over. 

Trying to take it all in, I hurriedly ended the call saying I would come back immediately. Relaying everything to Mr Warehouse I was worried about the cost. That was something that would wipe me and my savings right out.  Back at the garage, there was no getting away from it. My Clifford was barely legal in places and definitely way below the legal limit in places. All four brake discs needed to be replaced, the front two being the worst and along with this the brake pads needed to be replaced also. But it got worse as the mechanic (and what I can only assume as the manager) explained that with the starting mileage being at just over 31,000 miles and now only just over 39,000 I had done less than 7,000 miles and should not have expected the level of wear and tear on the vehicle in such a short period of time and with the limited mileage taken. 

Information in hand only meant one thing. The company I bought it from, Evans Halshaw Vauxhall in Bedford (who had shipped in the car from their Leicester branch) had not done the relevant checks needed and necessary. In fact, if anything they would have seen that the brake discs needed replacing and either were on the limit or under the legal limit expected and should have been done at the same time as the brake pads. The fact they had only replaced the brake pads revealed that they were not only cutting corners but wasting money, time and mechanics efforts as already worn brake discs would wear away the brand new brake pads far more quickly and mean a costly bill for the customer in the end. 

I had no choice, I had to pay to get my car back. I was advised not to drive away due to the number of defects and problems. With a couple of discounts, the mechanic was able to reduce the bill by about a hundred pounds, although a piss in the ocean with the comparison. And so I paid, opting into a payment plan over the next four months to pay it off. Fuming I sat down for the next three-hours and festered in my aggravation and annoyance, trying my hardest not to try. However, after plucking up the courage and channelling my inner rage at the debacle I called  Evans Halshaw in Bedford, they confirmed that the only work done on the vehicle including a rear cracked fog light and the front passenger seat belt casing that was broken were fixed, which they had. However, they washed their hands of anything mechanical 

Angered at the situation but understanding at Bedfords "cosmetic look over" my 2013 plate car, I called through to the Leicester branch to ask them the same question - Why did you install brand new brake pads on already very worn brake discs and ergo causing me a loss of over £200.00. I called through and pressed the options to get through to a salesperson. I asked simply for a record of works completed on the car prior to me shipping it down from Leicester to Bedford. 
"So sorry I will have to get that to you on Monday as our systems were switched over recently and I will need to export this manually and email over first thing," the salesman said. Reluctantly I obliged and took his name for reference. 

Frustrated that I had to lose out on so much money and the added worry and implications of if I hadn't been persuaded by Mr Warehouse to go what could have happened had I needed to rely on those brakes. The car was less than six years old and these were things that should have been done at the time of it being sold. I was angry at not only the money but the time, I had lost my car for over half a day and been unable to do anything else with my time bar waiting for it to be ready. You can be sure that I will be fighting this all the way. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx