Hello everyone!
Swiftly moving on from the debacle that was last weekend's stuck-in-the-mud fiasco before a wedding fair that turned out to be really good, I was happy to hear some good news that I had won a afternoon tea experience in a bridal dress shop up the road in Northampton. And of course who else would I take but my trusty Maid of Honour herself Miss Tweedle-Dee.
Most of the last few weeks since Christmas has been heavily occupied with Wedding Planning, to such an extent that I think Mr Warehouse would say is borderline obsessive and "Bridezilla" however I have to remind him that unfortunately we are not in a position financially in order to afford a holiday this year it would seem and so all of my focus and energy is being put into planning our dream wedding on what is becoming quite a tight budget. Finally we have booked a venue, a beautiful 'T-shaped' converted old school in a small village (smaller than the one I live in now) near to the Church we plan to marry, Mr. Warehouse's family church that everyone in his family all bar a handful have declared they're vows. In all fairness it would have been nice to have it in my family church, you know since I am the one christened and all, however with Mr. Warehouse referring to it as "The Asylum" and its less than perfect track record of my parents divorce, I struggled to find its importance to have it there, especially with the 1970's styled outside - See here! After we booked the venue the most important things come next. The Bar - Booked and we have even been able to book a free drink for everyone on arrival and even better; No charge for hiring! I suppose Mr. Warehouse and I now need to clothe ourselves, feed our guests and give them something to dance too!
With still so much left to plan and organise, I was certainly glad of trying to get Mr Warehouse enthused about photographers, flowers, catering or transport. Leaving him at I'm on the sofa with football playing in the background Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed to A Brides World in Northampton for my first ever experience of trying on wedding dresses. It was certainly a lot to take in with not only rails and rails of dresses hanging in there clear body bags for all to see but also a whole other floor. Now it is bad luck for a bride to be seen in her down before her big day and I also feel as though I should not be talking about it either as I see it almost as the same. With this in mind however I can tell you a few details about some of the beautiful gowns that I tried on.
The first few we picked out, in fact I would go as far as to say that the majority of the dresses were all down to one type - Princessy! My very first outfit was the "Venus Bridal Wedding Dress" described online as a elegant sleek ball gown style wedding dress, perfectly crafted using gorgeous Mikado fabric and has a deep V neck line (although not deep enough for my slutty ass) to highlight the frame beautifully and finished with a delicate beading around the waist and full buttoned train detail. Now I must say that when I tried on this dress it was extremely hard to see myself standing there looking back at myself wearing white as firstly it is not a colour that I normally choose to wear as I am extremely clumsy and will drop sauce or spill coffee down myself. Secondly though, and I suppose more important so people tell me, was that despite the owner and my Maid of Honour telling me that I looked beautiful and stunning in it, I just wasn't feeling it although it was a absolutely stunning dress. I was asked the question if I felt as though I could walk down the aisle in it and truth be told I could but I just didn't feel like the real me, moreover a posher, more elegant me - Which is nice, but not the real A.Lou! All things considered though, As beautiful as the buttons and glittery belt were, it just wasn't for me; A very elegant, classic dress as I am sure you can see from the photos I have tagged, but for me it is something far too tame for my liking or my wedding.
My second choice was much more up my street. The glittering Stella York gown just spoke to me as soon as I saw it, and despite not fitting quite right, I felt like a dream! Again, described online as the perfect mix of romantic and just a little bit sexy, this designer wedding dress is a glittery gem! Available with long lace sleeves, this A-line wedding dress is composed of layered beaded lace and tulle and was the most comfiest thing I have probably ever worn, next to PJ's. I need a dress that is going to tell a story about me and how unique and funny and different I am. I need it to embrace my curves and show off my incredible parts and hide those that I don't like so much. I need something that says "That is so her". And boy does this pack a punch, but at over £1000.00 it was waaay out of my budget to even consider this as a contender, even if I wasn't ready to buy!
In between second and fourth, I tried on what can only be described as a white lacy version of a sheath condom. Literally felt as though I was a white tube with a glittery belt around the middle. It was not pretty, hence no picture! Consoling ourselves with some very delicious mini sandwiches and cakes all washed down with a good helping of Prosecco and tea it was soon back to the changing room and we had saved the biggest till last!
Dress Number Four! The dream. At least so far and very much on par with The glittering Stella York gown. The huge white, LQ Designs dress was in budget at under £700, maybe even under £600, this fabulous ballgown from LQ designs is fit for a princess. The fitted lace bodice is delicately finished with classy off the shoulder style straps. The full skirt hangs beautifully with the horsehair ribbon edging for a royal look. And best of all it fit like a glove. With only minor altering to the hem of the dress to make it a lot shorter (needing a good six or seven inches off) I could have quite literally walked out of that place with a wedding dress under £700. Nevertheless I stuck to my guns as I had said to myself prior to even walking in through the doors that I would not be purchasing my wedding gown so far in advance as my mood and thoughts change with every moment that passes.
Despite trying on some incredible and beautiful gowns and dresses on Saturday afternoon I think I have not found the one yet. And so the hunt continues and I am sure to be booking in a few more sessions with different bridal suppliers to find out what types of dresses really benefit and suit me. I need a dress that says me without me even wearing it and as yet, whilst they are all amazing beyond belief and very enticingly priced, I have yet to find her - The dress of dreams
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Monday, 14 January 2019
Monday, 29 October 2018
Beautiful Nightmare
Evening Guys,
On closing my eyes I have somehow been transported to a district that I have never been to before. Down a single country Lane surrounded by trees and bushes and on the opposite side of the road to where I was stood I could see the rolling countryside and disappearing sun. Mr. Warehouse appeared soon after and we entered the Cottage-Barn type venue to have a look around. Looking around however I couldn't help but get the feeling that we were either being watched or preyed upon. As my fiance and I wandered around the dark wood stained walls and buildings, I felt myself constantly looking over my shoulder. It wasn't long before I saw him. Mr. Workaholic.
Making some sort of excuse I left Mr Warehouse to look around the remaining of the buildings and out houses, following Mr Workaholic into a quieter area of the estate I asked him rather frantically what an earth he thought he was doing here.
"I needed to see you" He muttered, hushed so as not to be discovered.
"I am a engaged woman now and you have no right turn up here - What were you thinking?" I demanded, terrified about Mr Warehouse made come along and think that something was going on when it was not. As Mr. Workaholic took me further away from my husband to be, my Ex and I snuck around the lush gardens, fountains and water features of the grounds. Mr Workaholic continued his soliloquy saying that he was unable to let me go ahead with the wedding.
"This should have been somewhere that we would have been at time at the knot, not you and someone else. I cant let you go through with this - Please lets try again?" Mr Workaholic cooed. This was beginning to get dangerous as I could feel myself getting hotter as the moments passed. I continued to feel as though I was cheating on Mr Warehouse even though I had done nothing wrong. Just being in the same company and presence as Mr Workaholic was just as potent as before and as time went on talking about how we used to be I struggled to keep my cool.
And as I walked closely with Mr Workaholic through the dark Forest like environment I wondered why. Why now huh?! Why would he choose this moment or this time in my life when I am happy and settled, ready to start a new beginning with someone to come back into my life and want to start again. It was Mr Workaholic that ended it all between us! Now don't get me wrong it wasn't a relationship that ended badly in the sense that there was infidelity or anything, just that Mr. Workaholic felt there was more out there than me and he wanted to find it all out. As we stopped walking amongst some trees, Mr. Workaholic turned to me and asked me to leave it all behind. As the raging battle inside my head continued, I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover back in the day, the best maybe - or so I thought at the time. But I have to remember that Mr. Workaholic was also the same person that left me screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving me in the home you used to share with a shattered life and a broken heart. I felt so stupid. Why should I be getting emotionally involved in something that had ended over six years ago? My memoirs started to flood back and were a stark and brutally honest reminder of how things genuinely used to be - Play fights that got out of hand, annoying each other and Mr. Workaholic putting me down or making horrid comments about me - Something Mr Warehouse would never do. But there were also laughs and giggles and happiness.
"I am an engaged woman and I'm happily in a relationship where I mean something to someone and I to them. I cant just throw it all away like you did." I said, appalled at the notion I had been wanting for so long all them years ago. Mr. Workaholic decided to call it off in late Spring, nearly seven years ago and I suppose I never really got over it totally but it was those darker thoughts and feelings I was desperately trying to cling on to so as to hold off the passion and lust I still felt raging up inside me. But it was too much. Reasoning and promising me that things would be different this time, Mr. Workaholic leaned in closer and we passionately kissed. Shocked, horrified and stunned I backed away and surprised myself by saying "OK"
I needed to let my fiance know that the wedding was off and the engagement was over. Finding my way back to the dark wood stained barn I found Mr Warehouse wondering where I was standing around and waiting for me. I felt awful as I left Mr Workaholic in the shadows, but not nearly as awful as I would feel having to go through with what I was about to do. An emotionally charged goodbye ensued with me explaining it that it was simply not Mr Warehouse that was to blame and that this was something that I had selfishly wanted for some time.
"I love you" I said as I left, saying goodbye to the same distraught and heartbroken face that I knew only too well.
Returning to Mr Workaholic I wondered if I have done the right thing by going back to him. It had not worked once before and would give good reason to it not working again second time around. Nevertheless I pushed all of this to the back of my mind as I left Mr Warehouse to gather his things to leave. Hours seemed to woosh past in a rush of excitement and giddiness. Yet I felt like there was something ever so foreboding. Something was not right. Then suddenly I knew. Standing with bags packed and ready to go in Mr Workaholic's girlie white hatchback I knew I couldn't do this. Running all the way back to the almost black, wood-stained barn I found Mr Warehouse packing his bags and ready to leave, tail well and truly between his legs. And like in some kind of Hollywood movie I ran and embraced Mr. Warehouse as hard as I could never to let go again. Kissing and holding each other I began apologising and telling Mr. Warehouse that it will never happen again that he was the only one; The one and only for me.
It was not long after this that I suppose I awoke from it all. In the knowledge that it was just a weird dream, almost nightmarish in its approach that I was unable to wake from. In my half-sleep-slumber I was forced to live up to the reality of my subconscious thoughts. Although in reality it was a Monday morning and Mr Warehouse was in no mood to be hearing of my fantastical dreams, no matter how scarily thought provoking or poignant. I suppose I will save that for another day ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
On closing my eyes I have somehow been transported to a district that I have never been to before. Down a single country Lane surrounded by trees and bushes and on the opposite side of the road to where I was stood I could see the rolling countryside and disappearing sun. Mr. Warehouse appeared soon after and we entered the Cottage-Barn type venue to have a look around. Looking around however I couldn't help but get the feeling that we were either being watched or preyed upon. As my fiance and I wandered around the dark wood stained walls and buildings, I felt myself constantly looking over my shoulder. It wasn't long before I saw him. Mr. Workaholic.
Making some sort of excuse I left Mr Warehouse to look around the remaining of the buildings and out houses, following Mr Workaholic into a quieter area of the estate I asked him rather frantically what an earth he thought he was doing here.
"I needed to see you" He muttered, hushed so as not to be discovered.
"I am a engaged woman now and you have no right turn up here - What were you thinking?" I demanded, terrified about Mr Warehouse made come along and think that something was going on when it was not. As Mr. Workaholic took me further away from my husband to be, my Ex and I snuck around the lush gardens, fountains and water features of the grounds. Mr Workaholic continued his soliloquy saying that he was unable to let me go ahead with the wedding.
"This should have been somewhere that we would have been at time at the knot, not you and someone else. I cant let you go through with this - Please lets try again?" Mr Workaholic cooed. This was beginning to get dangerous as I could feel myself getting hotter as the moments passed. I continued to feel as though I was cheating on Mr Warehouse even though I had done nothing wrong. Just being in the same company and presence as Mr Workaholic was just as potent as before and as time went on talking about how we used to be I struggled to keep my cool.
And as I walked closely with Mr Workaholic through the dark Forest like environment I wondered why. Why now huh?! Why would he choose this moment or this time in my life when I am happy and settled, ready to start a new beginning with someone to come back into my life and want to start again. It was Mr Workaholic that ended it all between us! Now don't get me wrong it wasn't a relationship that ended badly in the sense that there was infidelity or anything, just that Mr. Workaholic felt there was more out there than me and he wanted to find it all out. As we stopped walking amongst some trees, Mr. Workaholic turned to me and asked me to leave it all behind. As the raging battle inside my head continued, I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover back in the day, the best maybe - or so I thought at the time. But I have to remember that Mr. Workaholic was also the same person that left me screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving me in the home you used to share with a shattered life and a broken heart. I felt so stupid. Why should I be getting emotionally involved in something that had ended over six years ago? My memoirs started to flood back and were a stark and brutally honest reminder of how things genuinely used to be - Play fights that got out of hand, annoying each other and Mr. Workaholic putting me down or making horrid comments about me - Something Mr Warehouse would never do. But there were also laughs and giggles and happiness.
"I am an engaged woman and I'm happily in a relationship where I mean something to someone and I to them. I cant just throw it all away like you did." I said, appalled at the notion I had been wanting for so long all them years ago. Mr. Workaholic decided to call it off in late Spring, nearly seven years ago and I suppose I never really got over it totally but it was those darker thoughts and feelings I was desperately trying to cling on to so as to hold off the passion and lust I still felt raging up inside me. But it was too much. Reasoning and promising me that things would be different this time, Mr. Workaholic leaned in closer and we passionately kissed. Shocked, horrified and stunned I backed away and surprised myself by saying "OK"
I needed to let my fiance know that the wedding was off and the engagement was over. Finding my way back to the dark wood stained barn I found Mr Warehouse wondering where I was standing around and waiting for me. I felt awful as I left Mr Workaholic in the shadows, but not nearly as awful as I would feel having to go through with what I was about to do. An emotionally charged goodbye ensued with me explaining it that it was simply not Mr Warehouse that was to blame and that this was something that I had selfishly wanted for some time.
"I love you" I said as I left, saying goodbye to the same distraught and heartbroken face that I knew only too well.
Returning to Mr Workaholic I wondered if I have done the right thing by going back to him. It had not worked once before and would give good reason to it not working again second time around. Nevertheless I pushed all of this to the back of my mind as I left Mr Warehouse to gather his things to leave. Hours seemed to woosh past in a rush of excitement and giddiness. Yet I felt like there was something ever so foreboding. Something was not right. Then suddenly I knew. Standing with bags packed and ready to go in Mr Workaholic's girlie white hatchback I knew I couldn't do this. Running all the way back to the almost black, wood-stained barn I found Mr Warehouse packing his bags and ready to leave, tail well and truly between his legs. And like in some kind of Hollywood movie I ran and embraced Mr. Warehouse as hard as I could never to let go again. Kissing and holding each other I began apologising and telling Mr. Warehouse that it will never happen again that he was the only one; The one and only for me.
It was not long after this that I suppose I awoke from it all. In the knowledge that it was just a weird dream, almost nightmarish in its approach that I was unable to wake from. In my half-sleep-slumber I was forced to live up to the reality of my subconscious thoughts. Although in reality it was a Monday morning and Mr Warehouse was in no mood to be hearing of my fantastical dreams, no matter how scarily thought provoking or poignant. I suppose I will save that for another day ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 26 September 2016
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
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
Monday, 21 March 2016
Is This It?
Hello again you!
So after last week's post this one is going to seem very much mundane indeed. Sorry to all those Nypho's out there but I have been far, far too busy this week to set myself up as a phone sex operator just yet. I have much bigger fish to fry you know. With Mr. Warehouse moved in and mostly settled, with his doggy joining us this weekend, we begin our lives together in harmonious bliss - That is until all hell breaks loose because he ate all my Mini Cheddars!
Who ever knew that things would end up this way huh?! When I look back on the time I have had with Mr. Warehouse and all we have done in it, everything just seems so fast. This suddenly hit me whilst walking past a jewellers on Friday afternoon following a rather hectic but relaxed few days in the office (and considering it is coming up to the end of financial year, it says a lot about our office productivity). There I was, all twenty-four years of me, standing in the afternoon shadows of a second-hand and vintage jeweller, looking at the sparkly sapphire numbers twinkling back at me that I dream of wearing on my left hand one day. But then it suddenly dawned on me. I am twenty-four!
Walking away I suddenly I could hear my maternal clock located somewhere in my womb ticking loudly. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock! Louder and louder as I thought about what I wanted to do and what I had planned for myself and the timescale to do it in. I mean we all have a five-year-plan right? Right? You see, I want a child before I turn thirty at least. And before all of that I want to get married and tell stories of fairytale princesses and dancing the night away with their Daddy on the happiest day of my life, next to the day that they came into my world of course. I had to get a decent paying job (or just ask for a cheeky pay rise). I would have to travel the world to several more places including Africa and the East in order to extend the stories I already hold to include riding elephants through the jungle and cuddling lions in the Savannah! I will need to buy a house to accommodate this womb-bending brood I plan, something as you all know including four-bedrooms, an en-suite to the Master and a picket fence outside on a quiet suburban street with optional neighbourhood watch. But I suppose that is a lot to do for a little person like me who is only just learning to drive and still sees a shot of Cherry Sourz a good friend on a night out!
I just want to be fully prepared for parenthood and know that I have done things the right way and inside wed-lock. I know it is not for some people; The whole getting married and then having children, and in all honesty I do try not to judge people who are in that situation, but I just know that in my heart of hearts I would be severely disappointed if my life was planned out any other way. Not of course that I would ever regret my children if that is how the winds swayed, but I would feel disappointed in myself that they were not born into something that was already legally and lustfully bound by love.
Now I know that a huge majority of that gumph above is pressure put on by myself and that to achieve everything I want before having children and ideally speaking within the next six years, that is one heck of a shit-load to cram on in! I mean whilst I love Mr. Warehouse to the ends of the earth and back, am I really ready to become someone's wife? I just don't know?! As harsh as that sounds the whole prospect scares me slightly, but at the same time excites me with the possibilities! Is this it? Is this now my life? Is Mr. Warehouse the one I shall grow old with? Is Mr. Warehouse suddenly dawning on me as Mr. Right?
I suppose in several of my past relationships, I have queried if I could ever be with that one person for the rest of my days, eating with them, sleeping with them, living with them and raising a family with them. Will I ever get bored of them, or them of me and is there anyone else left out there better suited? But then I think about my Mr. Warehouse and to back when I was single. Reality is that even then and now it would be the same answer. No there is not someone better suited to myself. Or maybe there is but who has time to flick through countless dick-pic's on Tinder and faux profile's on PlentyOfFish.com when I have someone who is wonderful in so many ways - His ability to eat all six packets of Mini Cheddars not leaving me a single crumb being one of them, haha!
My dearest boyfriend is ever so kind and considerate. He is very affectionate but also stands his ground when we have a barney or believes he is right (does he not know all women species are right in every way all ways?) He buys me gifts now and then, sometimes flowers, sometimes chocolate and when I have a crappy day he brightens my mood by breaking me into laughter. He is silly and stupid - Just like me. He is immature and loves giggles, pillow fights and chasing each other round the house with tickles just as much as I do (apart from I don't like being tickled). Mr. Warehouse is thoughtful, getting me things I need and helping with household chores when I ask. He looks after me when I am ill and comforts me when I am sad. He has never made me cry. Ever in fact. And he does his very best every day to make me feel like I am his absolute world. His be all and end all, and everything in between.
I suppose the next logical step for us would be for to get a dog, get a house and get engaged. But that is my plan and a relationship is about compromise, but with Mr. Warehouse holding my hand tight, I doubt I will be compromising much that I didn't already have the chance to look for!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week's post this one is going to seem very much mundane indeed. Sorry to all those Nypho's out there but I have been far, far too busy this week to set myself up as a phone sex operator just yet. I have much bigger fish to fry you know. With Mr. Warehouse moved in and mostly settled, with his doggy joining us this weekend, we begin our lives together in harmonious bliss - That is until all hell breaks loose because he ate all my Mini Cheddars!
Who ever knew that things would end up this way huh?! When I look back on the time I have had with Mr. Warehouse and all we have done in it, everything just seems so fast. This suddenly hit me whilst walking past a jewellers on Friday afternoon following a rather hectic but relaxed few days in the office (and considering it is coming up to the end of financial year, it says a lot about our office productivity). There I was, all twenty-four years of me, standing in the afternoon shadows of a second-hand and vintage jeweller, looking at the sparkly sapphire numbers twinkling back at me that I dream of wearing on my left hand one day. But then it suddenly dawned on me. I am twenty-four!
Walking away I suddenly I could hear my maternal clock located somewhere in my womb ticking loudly. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock! Louder and louder as I thought about what I wanted to do and what I had planned for myself and the timescale to do it in. I mean we all have a five-year-plan right? Right? You see, I want a child before I turn thirty at least. And before all of that I want to get married and tell stories of fairytale princesses and dancing the night away with their Daddy on the happiest day of my life, next to the day that they came into my world of course. I had to get a decent paying job (or just ask for a cheeky pay rise). I would have to travel the world to several more places including Africa and the East in order to extend the stories I already hold to include riding elephants through the jungle and cuddling lions in the Savannah! I will need to buy a house to accommodate this womb-bending brood I plan, something as you all know including four-bedrooms, an en-suite to the Master and a picket fence outside on a quiet suburban street with optional neighbourhood watch. But I suppose that is a lot to do for a little person like me who is only just learning to drive and still sees a shot of Cherry Sourz a good friend on a night out!
I just want to be fully prepared for parenthood and know that I have done things the right way and inside wed-lock. I know it is not for some people; The whole getting married and then having children, and in all honesty I do try not to judge people who are in that situation, but I just know that in my heart of hearts I would be severely disappointed if my life was planned out any other way. Not of course that I would ever regret my children if that is how the winds swayed, but I would feel disappointed in myself that they were not born into something that was already legally and lustfully bound by love.
Now I know that a huge majority of that gumph above is pressure put on by myself and that to achieve everything I want before having children and ideally speaking within the next six years, that is one heck of a shit-load to cram on in! I mean whilst I love Mr. Warehouse to the ends of the earth and back, am I really ready to become someone's wife? I just don't know?! As harsh as that sounds the whole prospect scares me slightly, but at the same time excites me with the possibilities! Is this it? Is this now my life? Is Mr. Warehouse the one I shall grow old with? Is Mr. Warehouse suddenly dawning on me as Mr. Right?
I suppose in several of my past relationships, I have queried if I could ever be with that one person for the rest of my days, eating with them, sleeping with them, living with them and raising a family with them. Will I ever get bored of them, or them of me and is there anyone else left out there better suited? But then I think about my Mr. Warehouse and to back when I was single. Reality is that even then and now it would be the same answer. No there is not someone better suited to myself. Or maybe there is but who has time to flick through countless dick-pic's on Tinder and faux profile's on PlentyOfFish.com when I have someone who is wonderful in so many ways - His ability to eat all six packets of Mini Cheddars not leaving me a single crumb being one of them, haha!
My dearest boyfriend is ever so kind and considerate. He is very affectionate but also stands his ground when we have a barney or believes he is right (does he not know all women species are right in every way all ways?) He buys me gifts now and then, sometimes flowers, sometimes chocolate and when I have a crappy day he brightens my mood by breaking me into laughter. He is silly and stupid - Just like me. He is immature and loves giggles, pillow fights and chasing each other round the house with tickles just as much as I do (apart from I don't like being tickled). Mr. Warehouse is thoughtful, getting me things I need and helping with household chores when I ask. He looks after me when I am ill and comforts me when I am sad. He has never made me cry. Ever in fact. And he does his very best every day to make me feel like I am his absolute world. His be all and end all, and everything in between.
I suppose the next logical step for us would be for to get a dog, get a house and get engaged. But that is my plan and a relationship is about compromise, but with Mr. Warehouse holding my hand tight, I doubt I will be compromising much that I didn't already have the chance to look for!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 7 March 2016
How Can You Be Sorry For A Loss You Never Really Had?!
Good Evening you lovely people!
So since last week I have had many a moment to self gloat, internally of course, about my successes as a bring-of-sleep-to-children, despite being told that only a few hours after Mr. Warehouse and myself left, the little monster awoke, undoing all my hard work. Nevertheless I am sure there will be more opportunities to send babies and small children off into slumber for my womb has yet to be rented out.
This weekend in the UK we celebrated mothers day, showering our Mummies dearest with chocolates, flowers and gifts galore with some effort being made by more than others. However, with all its nice sentiments and all is just another day for me. However, I never really gave a thought to it all until there I was, sitting in my old local Wetherspoons in Dunstable, ready to have a proper catch-up with my Tweedles, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, that I really understood why I get funny looks around this time of year. Asking about cookery and what Miss Tweedle-Dee should cook for her family and beautiful Mommy for mothers day, I reeled off a few ideas I would have for myself if I was cooking for a few. At the end of the reeling, both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb lay quiet. A few moments later after looking at them both over my sweet latte, Miss Tweedle-Dumb apologizes for me not having a mother. Now yes, essentially it is very selfish and somewhat childish of me to cut her entirely out of my life (my mother that is, not my dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb), but in the grand old scheme of things, having her taking up even a single percentage of my time is a waste of it, and quite frankly the older I get, the more I realise that we don't have much left. The less drama, hoo-haa and bi-polar split-personality bullshit from someone I should be calling mother is easier to let go than trying to cling onto.
But scrolling through my Facebook news feed this morning on the commute into the office I relived some painful moments of my childhood. Status' and Tweets, one after another about how amazing and instrumental this one woman is in their lives. Pictures detailing the Afternoon Teas, Spa Days and dinners out as well as all the other fun that comes with having a mother in your life can be. Now I don't doubt that there has been some blows in their lives together, not pictured in the huggy-Selfie in Nandos. But none as big as mine, I'm certain to bet on it. In my head, pre-children obviously, I cannot see any reasonable explanation for what she put me through, both before and after throwing me out onto the streets with nothing but torn bin-bags of belongings and ripped hopes for the future. Pregnancy, Drugs and Drink. No matter what it was I would always try my best as a parent, regardless of of anyone or anything else - My children would come first. Every. Time.
I recall now on the countless number of times I had made breakfast in bed or bought flowers and chocolates as a child, when they were being given to someone with a heart that was as black as storm clouds and as cold as the icy winds of winter. Detailed last year in 2015, my somewhat harrowing writings aptly entitled "A Mothers Love: Part I" & "A Mothers Love: Part II" shows just how much we never really had a bond, and learning from long standing family friends, family and people who knew of my mother well, they are foretelling that her personality was fully enabled of wrecking lives and endangering people even as far back as childhood. Sadly it seems that the festering dislike for me and all I stood for had to come to a close somehow and in a way, I suppose I am the same as the others in my news feed, for I wouldn't be the person who I am today without her. That doesn't mean to say though that I forgive her for what she has done to me and my fragmented family. No, now that is something unforgivable.
Sometimes it seems though that as I get older, and possibly wiser, I realise all the times that as a girl or as a women, you will need and want your mother by your side are forever long. From getting your nails done for your Sweet Sixteen to scouring the High Street for Prom Shoes and consoling you over a crappy boyfriend who has just dumped you, all things I have had to deal with myself, not to mention my parents divorce and the wedge it has driven between myself and my little brother. In the future I suppose I shall have to let go to the fact that I shall never pick out my dream white dress for my wedding with her, nor shall I experience her hardiness during childbirth or of her teaching my children how to bake and play. All these things I shall never experience but in a way never would have even if she was in my life.
Never one to dwell on these things though I shall be spending my week looking forward as usual to the weekend for I shall be spending it with some very special people in a very special way!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So since last week I have had many a moment to self gloat, internally of course, about my successes as a bring-of-sleep-to-children, despite being told that only a few hours after Mr. Warehouse and myself left, the little monster awoke, undoing all my hard work. Nevertheless I am sure there will be more opportunities to send babies and small children off into slumber for my womb has yet to be rented out.
This weekend in the UK we celebrated mothers day, showering our Mummies dearest with chocolates, flowers and gifts galore with some effort being made by more than others. However, with all its nice sentiments and all is just another day for me. However, I never really gave a thought to it all until there I was, sitting in my old local Wetherspoons in Dunstable, ready to have a proper catch-up with my Tweedles, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, that I really understood why I get funny looks around this time of year. Asking about cookery and what Miss Tweedle-Dee should cook for her family and beautiful Mommy for mothers day, I reeled off a few ideas I would have for myself if I was cooking for a few. At the end of the reeling, both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb lay quiet. A few moments later after looking at them both over my sweet latte, Miss Tweedle-Dumb apologizes for me not having a mother. Now yes, essentially it is very selfish and somewhat childish of me to cut her entirely out of my life (my mother that is, not my dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb), but in the grand old scheme of things, having her taking up even a single percentage of my time is a waste of it, and quite frankly the older I get, the more I realise that we don't have much left. The less drama, hoo-haa and bi-polar split-personality bullshit from someone I should be calling mother is easier to let go than trying to cling onto.
But scrolling through my Facebook news feed this morning on the commute into the office I relived some painful moments of my childhood. Status' and Tweets, one after another about how amazing and instrumental this one woman is in their lives. Pictures detailing the Afternoon Teas, Spa Days and dinners out as well as all the other fun that comes with having a mother in your life can be. Now I don't doubt that there has been some blows in their lives together, not pictured in the huggy-Selfie in Nandos. But none as big as mine, I'm certain to bet on it. In my head, pre-children obviously, I cannot see any reasonable explanation for what she put me through, both before and after throwing me out onto the streets with nothing but torn bin-bags of belongings and ripped hopes for the future. Pregnancy, Drugs and Drink. No matter what it was I would always try my best as a parent, regardless of of anyone or anything else - My children would come first. Every. Time.
I recall now on the countless number of times I had made breakfast in bed or bought flowers and chocolates as a child, when they were being given to someone with a heart that was as black as storm clouds and as cold as the icy winds of winter. Detailed last year in 2015, my somewhat harrowing writings aptly entitled "A Mothers Love: Part I" & "A Mothers Love: Part II" shows just how much we never really had a bond, and learning from long standing family friends, family and people who knew of my mother well, they are foretelling that her personality was fully enabled of wrecking lives and endangering people even as far back as childhood. Sadly it seems that the festering dislike for me and all I stood for had to come to a close somehow and in a way, I suppose I am the same as the others in my news feed, for I wouldn't be the person who I am today without her. That doesn't mean to say though that I forgive her for what she has done to me and my fragmented family. No, now that is something unforgivable.
Sometimes it seems though that as I get older, and possibly wiser, I realise all the times that as a girl or as a women, you will need and want your mother by your side are forever long. From getting your nails done for your Sweet Sixteen to scouring the High Street for Prom Shoes and consoling you over a crappy boyfriend who has just dumped you, all things I have had to deal with myself, not to mention my parents divorce and the wedge it has driven between myself and my little brother. In the future I suppose I shall have to let go to the fact that I shall never pick out my dream white dress for my wedding with her, nor shall I experience her hardiness during childbirth or of her teaching my children how to bake and play. All these things I shall never experience but in a way never would have even if she was in my life.
Never one to dwell on these things though I shall be spending my week looking forward as usual to the weekend for I shall be spending it with some very special people in a very special way!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 25 January 2016
Getting On Like A Warehouse On Fire!
Afternoon All,
So after my tooth being amputated from my moist face cave, otherwise known as my mouth, I have been eating soft foods. Although I must be honest, after last weekends mind-blowing-ly gorgeous tasting Mulled Cider I couldn't resist trying to make some at home on my own! And to much success. Although now all the crappy still Cornwall Cider I had spare is fast running out and so is the jar of spices that go along with it! This week however especially the weekend has been pretty humdrum and with all my friends off playing with their respective partners I decided to spend a relaxing one with Mr. Warehouse and indulge in a little spring clean of my flat. Everything was and has been normal until this afternoon ...
Sitting at my desk sorting out the holiday boards for the new holiday/tax year that is beginning in March, I was suddenly then interrupted by the warehouse ruffian who then proceeded to tell everyone that there was a fire in the warehouse and we should all get out of the building. Since there was no fire alarm and no office Fire Marshall was coming round I thought that it may have been an over elaborate joke. Ignoring his warning I answered an incoming call and proceeded to chat away to one of my engineers. That was until I was asked to put down the phone and get out of the building by another colleague. Hanging up I knew this was not a drill. Something deadly had happened and we all had to escape the building as quickly as possible.
Braving the chilly weather and cold winds I turned to look at the back of the warehouse where the fire would have started. Wisps of greying smoke billowed out from the shutters and it didn't take much to see the orange flames licking the machines and the insides of the building like a kid with a melting ice-lolly. Concerned I looked at the time. Three-Forty-Five. I was worried that most of the staff were now congregating in the small car park and yet I could not yet see my Mr. Warehouse. It was his home-time at half-three so he may well have gone home. But then again what happens if he was still in the building?! 'Where was he' I thought, anxiously to myself. As I quickly scrabbled out a text and sent it I waited impatiently for a reply from Mr. Warehouse.
It was a strange feeling though. Standing there alone in the car park was not an issue. I was surrounded not only by colleagues, but also friends and somewhat family, maybe even future family?! But as I nattered around with the other ladies in the office and lads in the warehouse I soon realised that there was one thing missing. A very important person in my life. As I watched Mr. Warehouse's supervisor walk out of the goods yard with an Italian swag on and the mouth of a sailor I worried even more-so. Just as I was about to go up and ask someone where Mr. Warehouse was, My phone bleeped.
"Yes, Why? x" it read from the M.I.A Mr. Warehouse. 'Uh, thank goodness' I thought, forcing another reply through my slowly freezing fingers. Explaining that the warehouse was in a blaze and we had all been evacuated I wasn't surprised minutes later to hear my phone ringing. Answering I calmed his little sole by explaining that I was OK and that we were all waiting for the fire department to arrive.
"Right I will see you in a second then!" Mr. Warehouse said, panicked. He then hung up and as I wondered what he meant, soon enough he was at the end of the road, coming back to check that not only was I OK but also whether he could blag a day off tomorrow. To be fair to him I was going to do the same, maybe throw in a few coughs and splutters to sound convincing but to no avail. I do indeed have work tomorrow as does Mr. Warehouse and co.
But it made me think about how much I really do care and love him. Maybe not in the same way as Mr. Workaholic, but about as close to that kinda thing as I think I will ever get. I worried about him more in those few moments than I think I have ever done so in a long time, if at all. It made me think again about all the crazy dreams I have had in the past few months - A secret affair in New York with Evan Peters (As depicted in 'Hello New Boobs') or maybe the one where I made out with my new work colleague and then accused Mr. Warehouse of having an affair with a prostitute and a gay man at a beach-hut party or how about even that dream where I am boxing up all my old things in Dadda Workaholic's house and having a good old natter with Mr. Workaholic himself. Very strange dreams. But all pointing to one interesting point of contact for all when investigating further in my dream books and manuals was that they all pointed towards feelings of tackling issues that have been bothering my mind for a while. Even my masseuse added after a session that I was far too tense in my upper body, although not Mr. Masseuse I may add - Oof never again!
And so it seems that I. No - We, needed to have a conversation. Theoretically it was going to happen sooner or later. In fact I think some of our work colleagues probably knew it before I did. But the thing is that last time it happened I was with Mr. Workaholic. Whilst I may have dreamt of 'boxing things away' and 'moving on' I am certainly terrified of moving on fully, only because I know how it might well end. Quite frankly I think one heart break is enough for an entire generation let alone a lifetime and never want to go through it again but on the flip-side it would make life for Mr. Warehouse and I that much easier. I have to keep reminding myself that whereas last time my entire relationship went up in a fireball to rival the Atom Bomb, I was only 20-years-old and was still a baby in comparison to my life now. I am more grown up than I was and in a way have become stronger and better within myself. I don't rely on anyone and certainly with this situation know that if it did all go tits-up, I would be able to handle going back to a-life-before-Mr.-Warehouse easier than if we moved out somewhere new. So I suppose the only question is ...
When are you moving in Mr. Warehouse?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after my tooth being amputated from my moist face cave, otherwise known as my mouth, I have been eating soft foods. Although I must be honest, after last weekends mind-blowing-ly gorgeous tasting Mulled Cider I couldn't resist trying to make some at home on my own! And to much success. Although now all the crappy still Cornwall Cider I had spare is fast running out and so is the jar of spices that go along with it! This week however especially the weekend has been pretty humdrum and with all my friends off playing with their respective partners I decided to spend a relaxing one with Mr. Warehouse and indulge in a little spring clean of my flat. Everything was and has been normal until this afternoon ...
Sitting at my desk sorting out the holiday boards for the new holiday/tax year that is beginning in March, I was suddenly then interrupted by the warehouse ruffian who then proceeded to tell everyone that there was a fire in the warehouse and we should all get out of the building. Since there was no fire alarm and no office Fire Marshall was coming round I thought that it may have been an over elaborate joke. Ignoring his warning I answered an incoming call and proceeded to chat away to one of my engineers. That was until I was asked to put down the phone and get out of the building by another colleague. Hanging up I knew this was not a drill. Something deadly had happened and we all had to escape the building as quickly as possible.
Braving the chilly weather and cold winds I turned to look at the back of the warehouse where the fire would have started. Wisps of greying smoke billowed out from the shutters and it didn't take much to see the orange flames licking the machines and the insides of the building like a kid with a melting ice-lolly. Concerned I looked at the time. Three-Forty-Five. I was worried that most of the staff were now congregating in the small car park and yet I could not yet see my Mr. Warehouse. It was his home-time at half-three so he may well have gone home. But then again what happens if he was still in the building?! 'Where was he' I thought, anxiously to myself. As I quickly scrabbled out a text and sent it I waited impatiently for a reply from Mr. Warehouse.
It was a strange feeling though. Standing there alone in the car park was not an issue. I was surrounded not only by colleagues, but also friends and somewhat family, maybe even future family?! But as I nattered around with the other ladies in the office and lads in the warehouse I soon realised that there was one thing missing. A very important person in my life. As I watched Mr. Warehouse's supervisor walk out of the goods yard with an Italian swag on and the mouth of a sailor I worried even more-so. Just as I was about to go up and ask someone where Mr. Warehouse was, My phone bleeped.
"Yes, Why? x" it read from the M.I.A Mr. Warehouse. 'Uh, thank goodness' I thought, forcing another reply through my slowly freezing fingers. Explaining that the warehouse was in a blaze and we had all been evacuated I wasn't surprised minutes later to hear my phone ringing. Answering I calmed his little sole by explaining that I was OK and that we were all waiting for the fire department to arrive.
"Right I will see you in a second then!" Mr. Warehouse said, panicked. He then hung up and as I wondered what he meant, soon enough he was at the end of the road, coming back to check that not only was I OK but also whether he could blag a day off tomorrow. To be fair to him I was going to do the same, maybe throw in a few coughs and splutters to sound convincing but to no avail. I do indeed have work tomorrow as does Mr. Warehouse and co.
But it made me think about how much I really do care and love him. Maybe not in the same way as Mr. Workaholic, but about as close to that kinda thing as I think I will ever get. I worried about him more in those few moments than I think I have ever done so in a long time, if at all. It made me think again about all the crazy dreams I have had in the past few months - A secret affair in New York with Evan Peters (As depicted in 'Hello New Boobs') or maybe the one where I made out with my new work colleague and then accused Mr. Warehouse of having an affair with a prostitute and a gay man at a beach-hut party or how about even that dream where I am boxing up all my old things in Dadda Workaholic's house and having a good old natter with Mr. Workaholic himself. Very strange dreams. But all pointing to one interesting point of contact for all when investigating further in my dream books and manuals was that they all pointed towards feelings of tackling issues that have been bothering my mind for a while. Even my masseuse added after a session that I was far too tense in my upper body, although not Mr. Masseuse I may add - Oof never again!
And so it seems that I. No - We, needed to have a conversation. Theoretically it was going to happen sooner or later. In fact I think some of our work colleagues probably knew it before I did. But the thing is that last time it happened I was with Mr. Workaholic. Whilst I may have dreamt of 'boxing things away' and 'moving on' I am certainly terrified of moving on fully, only because I know how it might well end. Quite frankly I think one heart break is enough for an entire generation let alone a lifetime and never want to go through it again but on the flip-side it would make life for Mr. Warehouse and I that much easier. I have to keep reminding myself that whereas last time my entire relationship went up in a fireball to rival the Atom Bomb, I was only 20-years-old and was still a baby in comparison to my life now. I am more grown up than I was and in a way have become stronger and better within myself. I don't rely on anyone and certainly with this situation know that if it did all go tits-up, I would be able to handle going back to a-life-before-Mr.-Warehouse easier than if we moved out somewhere new. So I suppose the only question is ...
When are you moving in Mr. Warehouse?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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