Hello One and All,
So after smacking my head heavy off the corner of the ice-rink entrance last week, I was dazed a little to say the least. Whilst Mr Warehouse was pissing himself, literally nearly dying from lack of oxygen due to laughing so hard, I was starting to feel the effects of such a crash landing. I had stopped for a little, more so to give my leggies a rest more than anything, although sitting down Mr Warehouse stopped laughing and made a comment about how I didn't look well. The truth was that I didn't feel well. I felt sick. Like as if I was going to vomit. My skin felt weird, like that kind of flu-ey skin you get when you are ill. I couldn't concentrate, my eyes desperately trying to focus on anything. Something wasn't right. Reaching up to my head I felt searing hot pain spread across my skull accompanying a huge lump. At the size of an orange, I began getting irritable, shaking for no reason.
I decided that after some painkillers, although truth be told I really could have done with going to Accident and Emergency but I didn't want to worry anyone or spoil my Nephew's birthday. Snoozing most of Sunday, I knew that things were not good when on day three you still have symptoms. Returning to work on Monday was like a whole other challenge as for the first time all weekend I had to really focus my attention on something important, like my job. Answering the phone, listening and concentrating on the screens all became harder and nausea didn't help. NHS guidelines state that it's totally normal to have symptoms such as a slight headache, feeling nauseous or dazed and these can last anywhere up to 2 weeks. Where I was normally on the ball I simply couldn't take it in, sometimes taking several attempts to read the simplest of sentences, not good for a busy and fast-paced environment. As the week progressed I felt better but realistically I should have gone to the hospital. The problem is I do not get paid for being off sick, apart from statutory sick pay from the Government (£70 a week - But when I earn more than £70 a day there isn't much point unless I am dying).
I am glad for the feeling of "normal" to return because Friday was Bestie time! Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for a day out, checking into a hotel for a cheeky sleepover and hanging out in the City until nightfall! My dinner date was at The Alchemist on Bevis Mark. Describing itself as a new home for The Alchemist’s unique brand of cocktail bars & restaurants in Aldgate, Bevis Marks naturally attracted curiosity and with a unique location, it was a natural choice - Standing out as a glint of pure gold amidst the charcoal & black suits of the London’s business district. Suffice to say that The Alchemist does its business in a decidedly different way. Walking in the impressive golden bar gave way to a quieter restaurant area and a beautiful outdoor terrace, a perfect place for glorious sun and warm summer nights. However, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had to settle with the fading winter sun to sample a selection of exquisite cocktails and stunning food, all accompanied by a theatrical experience.
Starting our evening early I entered a world of theatre as my "Sailors Punch" Cocktail told its own story. Inspired by the spirits & flavours within, the molecular madness in an augmented reality started when Sailor Jerry Rum, Banana liquor, Pineapple & Coconut Bristol Syrup, and a dash of Citrus all turned up on a weird lined coaster. But using the App I downloaded it turned my drink into a far-flung Desert Islands where Pirates poached and Mermaids Merried. Miss Tweedle-Dee made a great decision - The Banoffee Manhattan! Espresso sloshed with a good helping of Monkey Shoulder Whisky, a few squirts of Monin Banana, tickled with Briottet Banana and brought alive by the dreamy Banoffee Foam!
To. Die. For.
Not feeling hungry I opted for a sharing starter platter consisting of BBQ Wings, Nachos, Pork Bon Bons, Mac ‘N’ Cheese Bites, Halloumi Sticks and Veg Sticks & Houmous. Finishing up before making a dash to our evening entertainment I chose my final cocktail of the night - The Colour Changing One! Grey Goose Vodka twisted with Briottet Apple, splashed with Soda, sparkled with Citrus and a little sprinkle of Magic. had this dry-ice drink changing colours from deep navies into vibrant pinks and mysterious purples. Watching the time we fast-walked to Aldgate Station to meet a man. Sounds creepy by we were actually about to encounter something much, much spookier as we dove into 1888.
A Christmas present to my future Maid Of Honour, the Jack the Ripper walk offered a truly atmospheric route. Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were guided (along with others, that would just be weird) into the old, narrow alleyways where we most certainly felt like we had been transported back to the mean streets of the Victorian East End. Along the tour, our guide, an ex-MI5 police investigator and anti-terror detective accompanied us to the murder sites and locations related to the Jack the Ripper murders. Learning more than just about the murders, I must say after doing so many different versions of the Jack The Ripper tours over my years of fascination, the guide - Who had served not only in the police force but undertaken military exercises including Afghanistan, Belfast and the Falklands - an almost exact background to my father, was incredible. Hosting several investigations into who the Ripper was and having detailed documentaries under his belt diving into the possibilities and struggles the forces had in catching him I was enthralled. By the end of the walk, not only was I exhausted and in need of my bed, but I also wanted to take this guy out for a pint and listen to all his fascinating stories and tales.
By the following morning, I was refreshed after a wonderful sleep in the hotel and after a light breakfast, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I departed, but not before commenting on how we should do something like that again. I mentioned a weekend in Edinburgh - Castles, Instgram-worthy photoshoots and Haunted tours galore. But the long journey and costly expense of it all wasn't something that was within reach at the moment, especially since Miss Tweedle-Dee is only a few months off being a fully-fledged adult like moi and having a mortgage. Maybe we will have to park that on the shelf that requires bigger bank balances along with sleepover's in deranged Liverpool mental asylums and hunting down a UK Horror Convention.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drinking. Show all posts
Monday, 16 March 2020
Monday, 28 October 2019
The Creation of Fear Pong
Evening,
Heading out for supplies I was not confident in the evening's frolics. Ever since I had any remotely valid social life I have wanted a Halloween Party. Something to rival Heidi Klum's or Jonathan Ross's. Something people would talk about for months after and anticipate from the sunshine haven of Summer. As the years pass it would go from mad house-party to a family event the school gates would buzz about from September right through until half term. My family's costumes would be infamous, like Neil Patrick Harris and Co.
Alas though, the first year I have held one, I was a little miffed at the turnout, or so I thought. Having a bit of a dramatic meltdown (who me?!) to my fiance a few nights before, I confided in him that not many people were coming. I knew his brother and his family would come with the kids, I also knew my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss JoHo ould be in attendance along with Miss Tweedle-Dee's lil' bro and another friend. Miss Hackney would probably make an appearance hopefully and a couple from Mr. Warehouse's side of the family. But none of my work colleagues came, disappointingly, however not completely unexpected.
Nevertheless, I felt much more in the "spirit" of things come that afternoon as we decked out the house in bats, cobwebs, Halloween bunting and more, some of which was all the way from the all hallowed place that is the Doller Tree (or at least I hope so as they look incredible) as Mr. and Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb indulged me for my birthday in sending back some schpoopy gifts that I could use at my party. Despite the distance, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb would be a part of my first ever Halloween party. Now I know a lot of people go OTT with Halloween party decorations, I can see myself being one of them but this can be verging on tacky however my theory is that if you can't go hard on Halloween then you should go home as it is all about being over the top and ultimately spooky. Obviously with Halloween parties you can take two routes.. The first being the classic creepy, gore and blood route which is great for a festive, clich̩ type event - Something I would love to achieve in a classy event with posho cocktails and dry ice - something glamorous and stylish Рdefinitely more of a treat than a trick.
Seven came and went, although I was anxiously awaiting the first guests. Dressed to impress I answered the door to our first guests, arm in arm with my little Frankenstein, complete with doggy dress up as a bat. Me? I was dressed in red, jet black wig and red veil, along with Mr. Warehouse in a black suit, green hair and purple sunken eyes, we were the Beetlejuice Bride and Groom - Betelgeuse and Lydia! Although this is maybe not one of our best ones, I certainly think it was a good going and certainly something I have wanted to do for a while. I had considered on a theme, say 80's slasher films or Hollywood's golden age, however, I felt as if this would put people off even moreso of a party where they have to dress up and make a bit more of an effort than normal. I mean of course I could do something like this in time, however Halloween is already so diverse, as long as your dead you can make it work but you know that there is always some lazybones that takes this as a way out and barely dress up at all!
Another thing I would have done if I was really hardcore about it and I wasn't using this as an excuse to drink at home would have been spooky food. Catering, I feel, can really make or break a party and give an excuse for people to chat and talk and mingle whilst snacking, especially to break up any awkward silences with the weird guy that has danced over for a chat. Themed food and DIY's are a great way of adding personal touches and a “center-piece cake” is an almost must, especially something like cupcakes as it’s something that can be given to kids and adults alike and is easy to eat whilst on the move around the room. Food dye and shape cutters are a godsend for amateur cooks such as myself and who normally screws their Pinterest creations up.
As the night continued, the drink flowed and I most certainly was not counting the Slimming World Syns in the prosecco, or the gin, or the mini sausages I was stuffing down my throat. The highlight, among the many that were had to be teaching my future niece and nephew play "Fear"-pong, a spooked spin on Beer-Pong whereby my niece and nephew would do the pinging and the ponging bit, and the tag-teamed adult would do the drinking. Basically, the kids made us all bladdered. Yes - Definitely a highlight and probably one of the best ideas Mr. Warehouse had. Suffice to say that as a direct result of said drinking game, myself, Mr Warehouse and my other guests were perfectly pickled and come witching hour, I was gone. As the party wound down and the guests dwindled I found myself in my bathroom, looking after a friend of Miss JoHo's who had his head in the toilet bowl. Next thing I knew, I was pushing him out the way to get to the next biggest vessel for my own bile.
By Midnight I was in bed, tucked up, listening to the rest of them get sorted out and heading to the land of nod too, and all thanks to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Mr Warehouse. I think that despite my reservations, and nearly cancelling at one point, I am glad I didn't, persevering and throwing what will be now known as the Halloween Party of the year!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Heading out for supplies I was not confident in the evening's frolics. Ever since I had any remotely valid social life I have wanted a Halloween Party. Something to rival Heidi Klum's or Jonathan Ross's. Something people would talk about for months after and anticipate from the sunshine haven of Summer. As the years pass it would go from mad house-party to a family event the school gates would buzz about from September right through until half term. My family's costumes would be infamous, like Neil Patrick Harris and Co.
Alas though, the first year I have held one, I was a little miffed at the turnout, or so I thought. Having a bit of a dramatic meltdown (who me?!) to my fiance a few nights before, I confided in him that not many people were coming. I knew his brother and his family would come with the kids, I also knew my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss JoHo ould be in attendance along with Miss Tweedle-Dee's lil' bro and another friend. Miss Hackney would probably make an appearance hopefully and a couple from Mr. Warehouse's side of the family. But none of my work colleagues came, disappointingly, however not completely unexpected.
Nevertheless, I felt much more in the "spirit" of things come that afternoon as we decked out the house in bats, cobwebs, Halloween bunting and more, some of which was all the way from the all hallowed place that is the Doller Tree (or at least I hope so as they look incredible) as Mr. and Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb indulged me for my birthday in sending back some schpoopy gifts that I could use at my party. Despite the distance, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb would be a part of my first ever Halloween party. Now I know a lot of people go OTT with Halloween party decorations, I can see myself being one of them but this can be verging on tacky however my theory is that if you can't go hard on Halloween then you should go home as it is all about being over the top and ultimately spooky. Obviously with Halloween parties you can take two routes.. The first being the classic creepy, gore and blood route which is great for a festive, clich̩ type event - Something I would love to achieve in a classy event with posho cocktails and dry ice - something glamorous and stylish Рdefinitely more of a treat than a trick.
Seven came and went, although I was anxiously awaiting the first guests. Dressed to impress I answered the door to our first guests, arm in arm with my little Frankenstein, complete with doggy dress up as a bat. Me? I was dressed in red, jet black wig and red veil, along with Mr. Warehouse in a black suit, green hair and purple sunken eyes, we were the Beetlejuice Bride and Groom - Betelgeuse and Lydia! Although this is maybe not one of our best ones, I certainly think it was a good going and certainly something I have wanted to do for a while. I had considered on a theme, say 80's slasher films or Hollywood's golden age, however, I felt as if this would put people off even moreso of a party where they have to dress up and make a bit more of an effort than normal. I mean of course I could do something like this in time, however Halloween is already so diverse, as long as your dead you can make it work but you know that there is always some lazybones that takes this as a way out and barely dress up at all!
Another thing I would have done if I was really hardcore about it and I wasn't using this as an excuse to drink at home would have been spooky food. Catering, I feel, can really make or break a party and give an excuse for people to chat and talk and mingle whilst snacking, especially to break up any awkward silences with the weird guy that has danced over for a chat. Themed food and DIY's are a great way of adding personal touches and a “center-piece cake” is an almost must, especially something like cupcakes as it’s something that can be given to kids and adults alike and is easy to eat whilst on the move around the room. Food dye and shape cutters are a godsend for amateur cooks such as myself and who normally screws their Pinterest creations up.
As the night continued, the drink flowed and I most certainly was not counting the Slimming World Syns in the prosecco, or the gin, or the mini sausages I was stuffing down my throat. The highlight, among the many that were had to be teaching my future niece and nephew play "Fear"-pong, a spooked spin on Beer-Pong whereby my niece and nephew would do the pinging and the ponging bit, and the tag-teamed adult would do the drinking. Basically, the kids made us all bladdered. Yes - Definitely a highlight and probably one of the best ideas Mr. Warehouse had. Suffice to say that as a direct result of said drinking game, myself, Mr Warehouse and my other guests were perfectly pickled and come witching hour, I was gone. As the party wound down and the guests dwindled I found myself in my bathroom, looking after a friend of Miss JoHo's who had his head in the toilet bowl. Next thing I knew, I was pushing him out the way to get to the next biggest vessel for my own bile.
By Midnight I was in bed, tucked up, listening to the rest of them get sorted out and heading to the land of nod too, and all thanks to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Mr Warehouse. I think that despite my reservations, and nearly cancelling at one point, I am glad I didn't, persevering and throwing what will be now known as the Halloween Party of the year!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 9 September 2019
Family Is Everything And Without It We Have Nothing
Hello,
"The stressing was over and I could finally try and look forward to the weekend," I thought to myself as I left work for the day heading into Bedford town centre. I still had so much to do before the family wedding I was attending the following morning, including collecting my dress from the seamstress for the second time after they messed it up the first time, creating capped sleeves that look as though they were hemmed by a 2-year-old. Nevertheless, as I hopped in the car I took a call from Mr Warehouse to say that he was with my Aunt and Uncle from southern Ireland in the bar of the hotel around the corner from where we live and I should hurry over for a quick one before heading home.
Dashing from one venue to another I headed into the somewhat elegant looking hotel and conference centre the wedding was being held at and where some of the guests were staying. Sure enough, as I pulled up in my car and got out my Auntie came out to greet me, something I was glad of. After the last week I had, I was more than relieved to see her and hear her comforting words.
Sitting at the bar it was getting darker outside as afternoon sun turned to night skies it wasn't long before Mr Warehouse said about heading home for some dinner and an early night, after all, it was now a matter of hours since we all needed to be at the church on time. Leaving me at the bar with my Auntie and now my Uncle, we were soon joined by my Father and some of his friends, also staying at the hotel. My Auntie continued to explain to me her day and how fumbled it was in trying to get her nails done for tomorrows festivities and failed, to which she had asked if I was any good. I obviously said yes as whilst I have been having my nails done for the last few years I was still a dab hand at coating my talons with a lick of paint or two and so I said that I wouldn't mind helping her out.
Leaving the rest of them in the bar area, my Auntie and I grabbed some pizza's and a bucket of ice and headed to her room. Settling in I was fucking starving after not eating anything since lunch and with it being gone 7pm, I felt as though I was wasting away and every effort to stick with my new diet and the healthy eating plan was fading by the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni on a thin stonebaked crust. Getting comfy on the bed she started to ask me about how things had been since we last saw each other in the spring when we were scattering my Grandfathers ashes. A lot had changed really. I was many more months closer to Mr Warehouse and I getting married ourselves and our tiny puppy Frankenstein was all grown up, well several months older.
Chatting away over pizza and many drinks of Martini (I was on damage limitation drinking water, but I was also driving) my Uncle soon arrived, explaining in no uncertain terms that the conversation in the bar had dried up and he had very little in common with the revellers and so had come back to the room to (as I should have been doing) get an early night. As I sat in the room, chatting and laughing away with my Aunt and Uncle, I knew that it would be these moments I would cherish, both now and later on when maybe they are no longer able to sit down and talk.
I have been ever so lucky that since my parent's divorce and the whole being kicked out debacle back when I was seventeen, I have remained in contact with my families, both mother and fathers side, and as I get older the more and more I seem to become closer to them. They well and truly have my back and with all the love and support in the world I know I can do anything with these people behind me. I suppose you would expect any family to do all of that, however, this is something I have come to realise that not everyone gets the memo in some families. I think that out of everyone they would be the ones I turn to if I needed anything, positive or negative. Need some help gardening, I have an uncle for that! Need some advice on boyfriends, I have an Auntie for that! Need to learn some DIY skills, I have an Uncle for that! Need a good drink and to feel better about yourself, I have an Auntie for that! I think that sometimes you don't realise until certain things in life happen that those closest to you will fight the hardest for you.
It's funny, as a kid I look back on my Aunties and Uncles and still see them in the same ways as I always have done, the joker, the clown, the tough cookie and the no-nonsense. And yet as I sat on that bed and spent time with them all over the weekends wedding, I noticed a little more grey in their hair, or maybe a few more wrinkles that weren't there before. Truth is that when all is said and done, it will be myself left, with only memories of how we laughed and giggled and gossiped and bantered. Just me and my cousins, and somewhere else, my brother too.
The following day went well, although could have done without some of the hiccups along the way, but if it taught me anything is that who is really there for you and when in times of uncertainty and emotional war. I honestly never thought I would have a relationship that I do with my Aunties and Uncles as I do to this day, and for all their flaws and mine, were family and that is honestly all the fucking matters now!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
"The stressing was over and I could finally try and look forward to the weekend," I thought to myself as I left work for the day heading into Bedford town centre. I still had so much to do before the family wedding I was attending the following morning, including collecting my dress from the seamstress for the second time after they messed it up the first time, creating capped sleeves that look as though they were hemmed by a 2-year-old. Nevertheless, as I hopped in the car I took a call from Mr Warehouse to say that he was with my Aunt and Uncle from southern Ireland in the bar of the hotel around the corner from where we live and I should hurry over for a quick one before heading home.
Dashing from one venue to another I headed into the somewhat elegant looking hotel and conference centre the wedding was being held at and where some of the guests were staying. Sure enough, as I pulled up in my car and got out my Auntie came out to greet me, something I was glad of. After the last week I had, I was more than relieved to see her and hear her comforting words.
Sitting at the bar it was getting darker outside as afternoon sun turned to night skies it wasn't long before Mr Warehouse said about heading home for some dinner and an early night, after all, it was now a matter of hours since we all needed to be at the church on time. Leaving me at the bar with my Auntie and now my Uncle, we were soon joined by my Father and some of his friends, also staying at the hotel. My Auntie continued to explain to me her day and how fumbled it was in trying to get her nails done for tomorrows festivities and failed, to which she had asked if I was any good. I obviously said yes as whilst I have been having my nails done for the last few years I was still a dab hand at coating my talons with a lick of paint or two and so I said that I wouldn't mind helping her out.
Leaving the rest of them in the bar area, my Auntie and I grabbed some pizza's and a bucket of ice and headed to her room. Settling in I was fucking starving after not eating anything since lunch and with it being gone 7pm, I felt as though I was wasting away and every effort to stick with my new diet and the healthy eating plan was fading by the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni on a thin stonebaked crust. Getting comfy on the bed she started to ask me about how things had been since we last saw each other in the spring when we were scattering my Grandfathers ashes. A lot had changed really. I was many more months closer to Mr Warehouse and I getting married ourselves and our tiny puppy Frankenstein was all grown up, well several months older.
Chatting away over pizza and many drinks of Martini (I was on damage limitation drinking water, but I was also driving) my Uncle soon arrived, explaining in no uncertain terms that the conversation in the bar had dried up and he had very little in common with the revellers and so had come back to the room to (as I should have been doing) get an early night. As I sat in the room, chatting and laughing away with my Aunt and Uncle, I knew that it would be these moments I would cherish, both now and later on when maybe they are no longer able to sit down and talk.
I have been ever so lucky that since my parent's divorce and the whole being kicked out debacle back when I was seventeen, I have remained in contact with my families, both mother and fathers side, and as I get older the more and more I seem to become closer to them. They well and truly have my back and with all the love and support in the world I know I can do anything with these people behind me. I suppose you would expect any family to do all of that, however, this is something I have come to realise that not everyone gets the memo in some families. I think that out of everyone they would be the ones I turn to if I needed anything, positive or negative. Need some help gardening, I have an uncle for that! Need some advice on boyfriends, I have an Auntie for that! Need to learn some DIY skills, I have an Uncle for that! Need a good drink and to feel better about yourself, I have an Auntie for that! I think that sometimes you don't realise until certain things in life happen that those closest to you will fight the hardest for you.
It's funny, as a kid I look back on my Aunties and Uncles and still see them in the same ways as I always have done, the joker, the clown, the tough cookie and the no-nonsense. And yet as I sat on that bed and spent time with them all over the weekends wedding, I noticed a little more grey in their hair, or maybe a few more wrinkles that weren't there before. Truth is that when all is said and done, it will be myself left, with only memories of how we laughed and giggled and gossiped and bantered. Just me and my cousins, and somewhere else, my brother too.
The following day went well, although could have done without some of the hiccups along the way, but if it taught me anything is that who is really there for you and when in times of uncertainty and emotional war. I honestly never thought I would have a relationship that I do with my Aunties and Uncles as I do to this day, and for all their flaws and mine, were family and that is honestly all the fucking matters now!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 1 April 2019
The Fast and Furious of Adulting
Evening All,
Following last week's final adventures in my little Vivienne, she is awaiting her final journey to Car heaven as is still on my driveway. The 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta, with her five-door hatchback body and a 1.4L engine she certainly was everything I had ever hoped for in my first car. Viv's multi-functional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors I was please that I had experienced my first real taste of the open road in her. But alas all good things must come to an end and this week and I will hopefully be welcoming in a new car to my driveway, other than the swanky black Vauxhall Corsa I have had the pleasure of driving for the last few days.
After a heavy night of drinking, dancing and laughing with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat, I was not sure I could even look at a car, let alone drive one. But nevertheless, taking time out on Saturday to have a race day with my fiance, Mr Warehouse, at the Bruntingthorpe track in the Harborough district of Leicestershire was certainly one way to get over a fragile head. The best way though, Im not so sure!? A Christmas present from last year from Mr. Warehouse, he had certainly been listening to me when I was banging on about driving a fast car round a race-track. And so I drove the hired Vauxhall Corsa through the country lanes and even avoided a few horses on the road not to mention the sheep crossing too.
I had a fantastic day driving a Mazda MX5 race car. Complete with full roll cage, race suspension and mechanical backup, this was the perfect car for Bruntingthorpe Airbase circuit and has left me wanting more. And so I booked the Bae and me to experience a Ariel Atom Passenger ride where Mr. Warehouse and I hit the tarmac for a supercharged Ariel Atom. The Atom houses a Jacskson Racing Supercharged Honda i-VTEC engine. Stripped to it's bare essentials, a chassis, wheels, engine, gearbox and suspension gives the Atom a better power to weight ratio than the mighty Bugati Veyron. Experiencing one of the quickest cars with a 0.60 in less than 3 seconds was exciting and a great day out and was sure to get our adrenaline pumping.
And after waiting patiently for the last few days I finally had the call I was expecting from the insurance company. Answering all the relevant security questions I prepared myself for the inevitable conversation of being paid barely enough to pay of my finance deal, let alone buy another car.
"Sorry can I just get you to clarify that again for me?" I asked, desperately trying to process exactly what the call handler has just told me.
"Yes certainly madam. So the car's total value is £8,500.00 give or take. Now obviously we have the insurance excess and a few admin charge that we need to take off before we pay the finance company. Although once the insurance company has paid off the finance deal and taken the relevant fees we will be transferring the remainder £4,200.00 over to yourself. Is this OK?" the call handler explained. I was shocked to say the least! Considering I had already bought and financed the car at quite a high rate of interest I was not expecting a single penny back to me at all. As long as the finance deal was settled in full be it partly an insurance pay-out and partly my asset protection insurance to cover the rest, I considered walking away from the situation washing my hands and starting afresh.
"Hello? Miss? Are you there?" the friendly young gentleman said on the other line. Confirming some further details the the call ended and I expected to receive a email or phone call shortly after explaining that there had been a mistake in the finance settlement.
However, less than a few hours later I received an email confirming exactly what I was told over the phone and that I should be expecting payment within the next forty-eight hours. Still in shock, I thought of didn't really believe it until I saw my bank account the next day which read a full four digits on my screen. Excited I started looking for my new car right away, all in the knowledge that I could receive a phone call any second telling me that I would need to hand my hire car back. This would probably have not been such a big deal had I been living in Bedford town center as before, however as I am now a country bumpkin living out in the sticks of Cranfield I have no choice but to need a car. Although I was certainly not going to be making the same mistake as I did last week when I eagerly called the insurance company so I could get the ball rolling following a message from the estimator's garage.
Mostly over the last few days I have been spent looking online at car dealerships websites for any car that tickles my fancy. Obviously I am not looking for much in my next car however I would like some specifications I have since become accustomed to. Firstly on my shopping list is the price as I would like to keep it under the same value that I am already paying on a monthly basis. Secondly, I need the car to be at least a 1.4 engine as anything smaller would be taking a back step from my previous vehicle. Ideally I would like the car to be newer with less mileage on the clock. If I can continue with a petrol engine then that would be fantastic but it must be a manual, only for the fear that if I was to get an automatic with my lazy brain I would forget how to drive stick. Mod-Cons that I would be looking for may include a heated windscreen to save time in the wintery months, a heated steering wheel for exactly the same reason and even a touch screen navigation system.
However that being said, I think I may have already met my new car. Scrolling online I found a cute little Fiat 500L in red. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needs to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and even have a whizz around town but with just over thirty-thousand miles on it 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal.
Now I know what your thinking, walking away from this unscathed and essentially up n an investment, why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is and always has been a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new not just the first time buying a car but also the second time too. With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and it's almighty diesel engine I am certainly looking forward to receiving my new car and hopefully having this one for good!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Following last week's final adventures in my little Vivienne, she is awaiting her final journey to Car heaven as is still on my driveway. The 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta, with her five-door hatchback body and a 1.4L engine she certainly was everything I had ever hoped for in my first car. Viv's multi-functional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors I was please that I had experienced my first real taste of the open road in her. But alas all good things must come to an end and this week and I will hopefully be welcoming in a new car to my driveway, other than the swanky black Vauxhall Corsa I have had the pleasure of driving for the last few days.
After a heavy night of drinking, dancing and laughing with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat, I was not sure I could even look at a car, let alone drive one. But nevertheless, taking time out on Saturday to have a race day with my fiance, Mr Warehouse, at the Bruntingthorpe track in the Harborough district of Leicestershire was certainly one way to get over a fragile head. The best way though, Im not so sure!? A Christmas present from last year from Mr. Warehouse, he had certainly been listening to me when I was banging on about driving a fast car round a race-track. And so I drove the hired Vauxhall Corsa through the country lanes and even avoided a few horses on the road not to mention the sheep crossing too.
I had a fantastic day driving a Mazda MX5 race car. Complete with full roll cage, race suspension and mechanical backup, this was the perfect car for Bruntingthorpe Airbase circuit and has left me wanting more. And so I booked the Bae and me to experience a Ariel Atom Passenger ride where Mr. Warehouse and I hit the tarmac for a supercharged Ariel Atom. The Atom houses a Jacskson Racing Supercharged Honda i-VTEC engine. Stripped to it's bare essentials, a chassis, wheels, engine, gearbox and suspension gives the Atom a better power to weight ratio than the mighty Bugati Veyron. Experiencing one of the quickest cars with a 0.60 in less than 3 seconds was exciting and a great day out and was sure to get our adrenaline pumping.
And after waiting patiently for the last few days I finally had the call I was expecting from the insurance company. Answering all the relevant security questions I prepared myself for the inevitable conversation of being paid barely enough to pay of my finance deal, let alone buy another car.
"Sorry can I just get you to clarify that again for me?" I asked, desperately trying to process exactly what the call handler has just told me.
"Yes certainly madam. So the car's total value is £8,500.00 give or take. Now obviously we have the insurance excess and a few admin charge that we need to take off before we pay the finance company. Although once the insurance company has paid off the finance deal and taken the relevant fees we will be transferring the remainder £4,200.00 over to yourself. Is this OK?" the call handler explained. I was shocked to say the least! Considering I had already bought and financed the car at quite a high rate of interest I was not expecting a single penny back to me at all. As long as the finance deal was settled in full be it partly an insurance pay-out and partly my asset protection insurance to cover the rest, I considered walking away from the situation washing my hands and starting afresh.
"Hello? Miss? Are you there?" the friendly young gentleman said on the other line. Confirming some further details the the call ended and I expected to receive a email or phone call shortly after explaining that there had been a mistake in the finance settlement.
However, less than a few hours later I received an email confirming exactly what I was told over the phone and that I should be expecting payment within the next forty-eight hours. Still in shock, I thought of didn't really believe it until I saw my bank account the next day which read a full four digits on my screen. Excited I started looking for my new car right away, all in the knowledge that I could receive a phone call any second telling me that I would need to hand my hire car back. This would probably have not been such a big deal had I been living in Bedford town center as before, however as I am now a country bumpkin living out in the sticks of Cranfield I have no choice but to need a car. Although I was certainly not going to be making the same mistake as I did last week when I eagerly called the insurance company so I could get the ball rolling following a message from the estimator's garage.
Mostly over the last few days I have been spent looking online at car dealerships websites for any car that tickles my fancy. Obviously I am not looking for much in my next car however I would like some specifications I have since become accustomed to. Firstly on my shopping list is the price as I would like to keep it under the same value that I am already paying on a monthly basis. Secondly, I need the car to be at least a 1.4 engine as anything smaller would be taking a back step from my previous vehicle. Ideally I would like the car to be newer with less mileage on the clock. If I can continue with a petrol engine then that would be fantastic but it must be a manual, only for the fear that if I was to get an automatic with my lazy brain I would forget how to drive stick. Mod-Cons that I would be looking for may include a heated windscreen to save time in the wintery months, a heated steering wheel for exactly the same reason and even a touch screen navigation system.
However that being said, I think I may have already met my new car. Scrolling online I found a cute little Fiat 500L in red. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needs to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and even have a whizz around town but with just over thirty-thousand miles on it 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal.
Now I know what your thinking, walking away from this unscathed and essentially up n an investment, why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is and always has been a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new not just the first time buying a car but also the second time too. With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and it's almighty diesel engine I am certainly looking forward to receiving my new car and hopefully having this one for good!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 18 March 2019
Beware - The Stagsden Hag!
Evening All,
Standing in the freezing cold and blustery wind that I thought was going to take me off like Mary Poppins, my frustration and anger was growing minute by minute that we sat in the car park of our future wedding venue, Stagsden Village Hall. For weeks I had been trying to arrange an appointment whereby I could view the building again with a fresh pair of eyes and alongside my fiance Mr Warehouse after we had booked it for our special day. Finally, after some communication issues, I was told that the original lady though we had met on site the first time that we viewed The Village Hall that she has now moved on and how work commitments meant she could not dedicate enough time to the running and upkeep of the village hall and its users.
With this in mind, I had been put in touch with another lady who assured me that she would be here. The difference was that we were not alone and accompanied also by a potential caterer who had met us on site in order to see the facilities that he would be working with in order to give us some scope for a menu.
"This was getting ridiculous" I raged to Mr. Warehouse and the caterer as the wind howled and I stormed around the property. It was now nearly half an hour later than planned and after getting up at the crack of dawn in order to make it for my 9:30am appointment, I was seriously vexed at being seemingly stood up. All things considered, the delay would not have been a huge problem had I been alone and had not consumed 4 bottles of wine the previous evening along with Miss Hackney who had come round for gossip and to offload on the week she had.
Fragile to say the least I had been up until about midnight drinking only to then get up early the next morning in order to drive Mr Warehouse to work at approximately 5:30am. So yes, I am sure that my patience was quite thin anyway and my temper was wearing by each minute that slipped by.
"I could have been in bed asleep, or binge-watching craft and life hacks on YouTube, or maybe even hitting the road for a morning run?!" I fumed to my entourage. So many more things that I could be doing better than standing around waiting for someone to turn up if at all. I was constantly calling the numbers that I had for the village hall which were only one or two. When no one answered I decided to email an urgent request to the contacts I had, and again to no avail.
Just as we had discussed with the caterer that there was to become a time where none of us could wait around all day, a large red people carrier came bungling into the gravel car park and out stepped a woman in her mid-thirties and a gentleman about ten-years-older. She asked for my name and said that she was here to set up for a party the following day. I jokingly said with a little bit of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she had a number and had prearranged an appointment since no one had actually turned up for ours. The lady and gentleman explained that they had booked the whole the following day for a party and that they were there today to set up in preparation and to collect the keys.
It was at this point that I started to get angrier and started to wonder if something sinister had happened. Just as the caterer had come to say he was unable to stay any longer a silver sports car come whizzing into the gravel car park, nearly missing some of us standing around and pulled up to a halt outside the front door. Out popped a chirpy retiree who had mentioned "good morning". Barely being able to hold back after waiting around for nearly an hour I marched over and asked what had happened which made her late for our appointment. She scowled back at me the caterer and Mr Warehouse and proceeded to explain that our meeting was at 10:30am and she was not late.
Taking a deep breath and mustering all I could by not wanting to smack a bitch in the face, I allowed her to open up the village hall as I explained that I was not the 10:30am appointment and that this was the poor woman and her gentleman friend behind me that had arrived on time to set up the venue.
"Oh yes well there must have been a mistake and I do apologise but it is of course run by volunteers don't you know" was her response, to which I could handle no more. I made the gestures that we should probably rearrange a better and more suitable time that would be convenient for both of us since there was already someone setting up the hall to which the retired old hag just ushered us in and said to look around. I didn't feel comfortable and explained that the lady and gentleman in the car park had hired the hall and were clearly setting up for an event that they did not need anyone wondering around taking photos or getting in the way when they have hired and paid good money. On hearing this, however, the lady who was setting up the hall with her friend was quite sweet and had said they did not mind us walking around and taking photos if necessary as it was clear there had been a major misunderstanding. So nice!
Accepting I walked off with my caterer in toe, dashing for the kitchen, Mr Warehouse following and maybe throwing a tut or sigh about the place as he went. However last Stagsden Village Hall is large in comparison to its other contenders we had on the list, it was no stately home and on many occasion, I kept bumping into either the lady and her gentleman friend setting up or the old bag herself. At some point, a group of two or three workmen came in to assess the state of the foyer to lay down some new flooring and then a few moments later another elderly gentleman joined the "Stagsden Hag", tinkering about with the Gas and Electric metres in the middle of the corridor.
Frustrated beyond belief I think the woman figured that I wasn't best pleased that her and tried to stay out of my way. When it came time to leave I asked her for her mobile number so that this incident would not happen again. Yet again she ran off the bullshit spiel that this is "run by volunteers and there must have been a mistake", that was until I pulled up the email which clearly stated the date and time of which our appointment was. Now I acknowledge that as a side note I was probably a little ratty that day. A combination of very little sleep, lack of food and my bloodstream being made up of at least 30% Rose I was in a foul mood. Add in the fact that it was incredibly windy and very cold as well, all whilst I was on time (which anyone who knows me knows this is a rarity in itself) and someone else was late. I suppose in a way that I have blown this a little out of proportion but the way I see it is that I am sure I will laugh about this in years to come however at the moment I am still narked. Mr Warehouse and I left there Saturday morning, hoping against all hopes, that the "Stagsden Hag" would not be the one handing over our keys the day before our wedding next year.
Standing in the freezing cold and blustery wind that I thought was going to take me off like Mary Poppins, my frustration and anger was growing minute by minute that we sat in the car park of our future wedding venue, Stagsden Village Hall. For weeks I had been trying to arrange an appointment whereby I could view the building again with a fresh pair of eyes and alongside my fiance Mr Warehouse after we had booked it for our special day. Finally, after some communication issues, I was told that the original lady though we had met on site the first time that we viewed The Village Hall that she has now moved on and how work commitments meant she could not dedicate enough time to the running and upkeep of the village hall and its users.
With this in mind, I had been put in touch with another lady who assured me that she would be here. The difference was that we were not alone and accompanied also by a potential caterer who had met us on site in order to see the facilities that he would be working with in order to give us some scope for a menu.
"This was getting ridiculous" I raged to Mr. Warehouse and the caterer as the wind howled and I stormed around the property. It was now nearly half an hour later than planned and after getting up at the crack of dawn in order to make it for my 9:30am appointment, I was seriously vexed at being seemingly stood up. All things considered, the delay would not have been a huge problem had I been alone and had not consumed 4 bottles of wine the previous evening along with Miss Hackney who had come round for gossip and to offload on the week she had.
Fragile to say the least I had been up until about midnight drinking only to then get up early the next morning in order to drive Mr Warehouse to work at approximately 5:30am. So yes, I am sure that my patience was quite thin anyway and my temper was wearing by each minute that slipped by.
"I could have been in bed asleep, or binge-watching craft and life hacks on YouTube, or maybe even hitting the road for a morning run?!" I fumed to my entourage. So many more things that I could be doing better than standing around waiting for someone to turn up if at all. I was constantly calling the numbers that I had for the village hall which were only one or two. When no one answered I decided to email an urgent request to the contacts I had, and again to no avail.
Just as we had discussed with the caterer that there was to become a time where none of us could wait around all day, a large red people carrier came bungling into the gravel car park and out stepped a woman in her mid-thirties and a gentleman about ten-years-older. She asked for my name and said that she was here to set up for a party the following day. I jokingly said with a little bit of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she had a number and had prearranged an appointment since no one had actually turned up for ours. The lady and gentleman explained that they had booked the whole the following day for a party and that they were there today to set up in preparation and to collect the keys.
It was at this point that I started to get angrier and started to wonder if something sinister had happened. Just as the caterer had come to say he was unable to stay any longer a silver sports car come whizzing into the gravel car park, nearly missing some of us standing around and pulled up to a halt outside the front door. Out popped a chirpy retiree who had mentioned "good morning". Barely being able to hold back after waiting around for nearly an hour I marched over and asked what had happened which made her late for our appointment. She scowled back at me the caterer and Mr Warehouse and proceeded to explain that our meeting was at 10:30am and she was not late.
Taking a deep breath and mustering all I could by not wanting to smack a bitch in the face, I allowed her to open up the village hall as I explained that I was not the 10:30am appointment and that this was the poor woman and her gentleman friend behind me that had arrived on time to set up the venue.
"Oh yes well there must have been a mistake and I do apologise but it is of course run by volunteers don't you know" was her response, to which I could handle no more. I made the gestures that we should probably rearrange a better and more suitable time that would be convenient for both of us since there was already someone setting up the hall to which the retired old hag just ushered us in and said to look around. I didn't feel comfortable and explained that the lady and gentleman in the car park had hired the hall and were clearly setting up for an event that they did not need anyone wondering around taking photos or getting in the way when they have hired and paid good money. On hearing this, however, the lady who was setting up the hall with her friend was quite sweet and had said they did not mind us walking around and taking photos if necessary as it was clear there had been a major misunderstanding. So nice!
Accepting I walked off with my caterer in toe, dashing for the kitchen, Mr Warehouse following and maybe throwing a tut or sigh about the place as he went. However last Stagsden Village Hall is large in comparison to its other contenders we had on the list, it was no stately home and on many occasion, I kept bumping into either the lady and her gentleman friend setting up or the old bag herself. At some point, a group of two or three workmen came in to assess the state of the foyer to lay down some new flooring and then a few moments later another elderly gentleman joined the "Stagsden Hag", tinkering about with the Gas and Electric metres in the middle of the corridor.
Frustrated beyond belief I think the woman figured that I wasn't best pleased that her and tried to stay out of my way. When it came time to leave I asked her for her mobile number so that this incident would not happen again. Yet again she ran off the bullshit spiel that this is "run by volunteers and there must have been a mistake", that was until I pulled up the email which clearly stated the date and time of which our appointment was. Now I acknowledge that as a side note I was probably a little ratty that day. A combination of very little sleep, lack of food and my bloodstream being made up of at least 30% Rose I was in a foul mood. Add in the fact that it was incredibly windy and very cold as well, all whilst I was on time (which anyone who knows me knows this is a rarity in itself) and someone else was late. I suppose in a way that I have blown this a little out of proportion but the way I see it is that I am sure I will laugh about this in years to come however at the moment I am still narked. Mr Warehouse and I left there Saturday morning, hoping against all hopes, that the "Stagsden Hag" would not be the one handing over our keys the day before our wedding next year.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 7 May 2018
The Missing Minutes!
Heyy,
After what felt like the longest week for quite some time (and to be fair it was since I had taken a day off making the last few weeks a four-day week) I was more than happy that it was a bank holiday weekend and with an extra day to spend trying to do up our small flat. Last weekend I spoke of finishing work early on Friday and went to collect some house things before heading to Basingstoke for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Wedding. Following a long search for a property on budget as well as allowing dog's, Mr Warehouse and I had looked and viewed a few properties in the last few months that ticked all of the boxes. The only problem that we seem to come up against was the fact that the majority of these properties were very run down or poorly kept meaning we would have to put in a lot of work to a home that was not ours, something that at the end of the day we could quite easily do in the place that we have here. So we thought why not!? OK so our flat is small in comparison to the two-bedroom house with Garden and parking I wanted but I would say that our flat is still on the large side. And so after having several meltdowns over the last few weeks about where Mr Warehouse and I live, a combination brought about by the safety and security of the property (or the lack thereof), not to mention what seems like a complete lack of empathy or activity at all from the landlord.
But before any painting wallpapering or decorating could get underway I had been booked in for a night out with some old work pal's, you remember them - Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat. The night started well as the three of us had planned to go for a cheeky Nando's with our other halves before heading into the infamous Bedford town centre for a good old fashioned knees up. I would never have thought that the night would have ended in as tragically as it did. With Nando's fully booked and with a queue out the door Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and I thought that it might be a good idea to go to another restaurant a couple of doors down. A Turkish restaurant called Nazar was somewhere that we had presented before and to be fair had quite nice food. As we sat down and ordered drinks I thought about how this was the first time Mr Warehouse and I had been out for a meal in quite some time after trying to save for a house. Nevertheless the company was enjoyable to say the least with Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and a friend of Miss Sugarcoat's in place of her girlfriend. Miss Hackney had recently split from her most recent fuck-boy and Miss Sugarcoat and I were hoping that her friend might provide Miss Hackney some "comfort".
With our meal taking slightly longer than anticipated due to the fact they forgot about Mr Warehouse's order, we headed to one of the many bars along Bedford main High Street for a drink with Mr Warehouse before he departed to go home. Unfortunately my dearest boyfriend was working from 6am the following morning so was probably best if he didn't have a late one. After a couple of cider's outside in the newly refurbished beer garden of the pub he left us to our night. And I can only assume that it was from this point onwards that it all went downhill. With Miss Sugarcoat buying us or a round of Jagerbombs I struggled to keep it down. Luckily I had a Chaser drink of the half bottle of wine that Miss Hackney and I were sharing. And that continues throughout the night, nothing more, nothing less just wine and I think maybe the odd glass of Prosecco. Unlike normal I was certainly not drinking any shots spirits or even cocktails. Just Wine. How I was so wasted on such a small amount I will never know. I remember everything up until the point of which I left the club. I remember everything from the previous two bars and pubs we had been into and even remember having to pay to get into the club and being in there. I clearly remember at one point and for some unknown reason that I still don't quite understand I just thought I want or need to go home and with that picked up my bag and left not even saying goodbye to Miss Hackney or Miss Sugarcoat.
I remember walking through the fellow clubbers. I remember vaguely walking down the stairs and seemingly out of the venue. I do not remember how but some way I ended up at the taxi rank, across the road and down the road a bit on the corner. Hazily I remember standing and waiting for a cab outside the rank. I think I remember getting in a cab and sitting in the back passenger seat. After that I don't remember anything at all even to this moment now. Normally, as most of you know who read along regularly and from some of my earlier party animal days, that I remember everything from a night out. Every gorey detail. Every alcoholic drink. Every dude that I used to get hit on or hit up on. Every. Little. Thing.
Its not clear but I faintly remember feeling sick and knowing if I threw up in the cab that it would cost me dearly with a fine for the clean-up, and so weighing up the options in my drunken stupor I thought that being violently sick in my Ted Baker clutch would be the best option. Unfortunately I failed to take into account that my Vape, my power bank and cables not to mention a lipstick and other items were also being housed in the safety of my designer handbag. And with the decision being made in my head I made my choice to be sick inside the one vessel that would not charge me £50 for a clean up fee AKA my Ted Baker clutch.
The only saying that is fully clear in my head is that I woke up at about 11:30am when I heard Mr Warehouse calling my name. I think at first I was woken up by his motorcycle coming back home from his shift although that may well have been a dream. He was so angry and immediately started flying off the handle about how drunk I was and what estate I came home. Apparently Mr Warehouse had been trying to call me all morning, ringing more than sixteen times. I think in all fairness he was probably angry out of the fear for when he left for work (with only two-hours sleep) he was terrified of that we would come home to meet dead after choking on my own vomit. Luckily that was not the case however I felt awful for making him so angry. To be fair I don't think I have ever seen him so angry with me. I was devastated and yet confused by the fact that I found myself naked and in my bed but did not look or how I got home.
Even to this moment a trying to terrifies me that I do not know exactly how I got back into my bed that night. All I can be thankful for is Mr Warehouse living with me as I am not sure what state or even if I would have gotten home safely. From the account that my wonderful boyfriend has given, I stumbled through the door at about 2am and made probably as much racket as I possibly could. By this point I had apparently already thrown up outside on the steps leading up to our flat as well as all down our French patio doors as well as the handle. I had as usual come in and gone straight to the bathroom sat on the toilet and throwing up all over myself in a last ditch attempt to aim for the bath. I can only assume that it was at this point that Mr Warehouse was roused from his slumber by my sickening wretches and came to save me, undressing me and putting me to bed safely.
Whilst there has been some serious cleaning and even a moving round of some furniture in order to accommodate hopefully under open plan living situation in our front room, there has been very little if any decorating at all done. I can assure you though that I have most definitely learnt my lesson. I have thought about the missing minutes and hours potentially I have had over this weekend and would even consider the possibility that I may well have been spiked. I suppose that there is always the possibility. Not entirely sure as to why someone would want to spike my drink in particular or maybe they thought that it was Miss Hackney's. Either way something was telling me to just go home and maybe this was my subconscious kicking into action and overhauling my drunken mind. Whatever happened I am most certainly going to be more careful when I am out drinking next time, should there even be a next time since I am still in the dog house!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
After what felt like the longest week for quite some time (and to be fair it was since I had taken a day off making the last few weeks a four-day week) I was more than happy that it was a bank holiday weekend and with an extra day to spend trying to do up our small flat. Last weekend I spoke of finishing work early on Friday and went to collect some house things before heading to Basingstoke for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Wedding. Following a long search for a property on budget as well as allowing dog's, Mr Warehouse and I had looked and viewed a few properties in the last few months that ticked all of the boxes. The only problem that we seem to come up against was the fact that the majority of these properties were very run down or poorly kept meaning we would have to put in a lot of work to a home that was not ours, something that at the end of the day we could quite easily do in the place that we have here. So we thought why not!? OK so our flat is small in comparison to the two-bedroom house with Garden and parking I wanted but I would say that our flat is still on the large side. And so after having several meltdowns over the last few weeks about where Mr Warehouse and I live, a combination brought about by the safety and security of the property (or the lack thereof), not to mention what seems like a complete lack of empathy or activity at all from the landlord.
But before any painting wallpapering or decorating could get underway I had been booked in for a night out with some old work pal's, you remember them - Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat. The night started well as the three of us had planned to go for a cheeky Nando's with our other halves before heading into the infamous Bedford town centre for a good old fashioned knees up. I would never have thought that the night would have ended in as tragically as it did. With Nando's fully booked and with a queue out the door Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and I thought that it might be a good idea to go to another restaurant a couple of doors down. A Turkish restaurant called Nazar was somewhere that we had presented before and to be fair had quite nice food. As we sat down and ordered drinks I thought about how this was the first time Mr Warehouse and I had been out for a meal in quite some time after trying to save for a house. Nevertheless the company was enjoyable to say the least with Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and a friend of Miss Sugarcoat's in place of her girlfriend. Miss Hackney had recently split from her most recent fuck-boy and Miss Sugarcoat and I were hoping that her friend might provide Miss Hackney some "comfort".
With our meal taking slightly longer than anticipated due to the fact they forgot about Mr Warehouse's order, we headed to one of the many bars along Bedford main High Street for a drink with Mr Warehouse before he departed to go home. Unfortunately my dearest boyfriend was working from 6am the following morning so was probably best if he didn't have a late one. After a couple of cider's outside in the newly refurbished beer garden of the pub he left us to our night. And I can only assume that it was from this point onwards that it all went downhill. With Miss Sugarcoat buying us or a round of Jagerbombs I struggled to keep it down. Luckily I had a Chaser drink of the half bottle of wine that Miss Hackney and I were sharing. And that continues throughout the night, nothing more, nothing less just wine and I think maybe the odd glass of Prosecco. Unlike normal I was certainly not drinking any shots spirits or even cocktails. Just Wine. How I was so wasted on such a small amount I will never know. I remember everything up until the point of which I left the club. I remember everything from the previous two bars and pubs we had been into and even remember having to pay to get into the club and being in there. I clearly remember at one point and for some unknown reason that I still don't quite understand I just thought I want or need to go home and with that picked up my bag and left not even saying goodbye to Miss Hackney or Miss Sugarcoat.
I remember walking through the fellow clubbers. I remember vaguely walking down the stairs and seemingly out of the venue. I do not remember how but some way I ended up at the taxi rank, across the road and down the road a bit on the corner. Hazily I remember standing and waiting for a cab outside the rank. I think I remember getting in a cab and sitting in the back passenger seat. After that I don't remember anything at all even to this moment now. Normally, as most of you know who read along regularly and from some of my earlier party animal days, that I remember everything from a night out. Every gorey detail. Every alcoholic drink. Every dude that I used to get hit on or hit up on. Every. Little. Thing.
Its not clear but I faintly remember feeling sick and knowing if I threw up in the cab that it would cost me dearly with a fine for the clean-up, and so weighing up the options in my drunken stupor I thought that being violently sick in my Ted Baker clutch would be the best option. Unfortunately I failed to take into account that my Vape, my power bank and cables not to mention a lipstick and other items were also being housed in the safety of my designer handbag. And with the decision being made in my head I made my choice to be sick inside the one vessel that would not charge me £50 for a clean up fee AKA my Ted Baker clutch.
The only saying that is fully clear in my head is that I woke up at about 11:30am when I heard Mr Warehouse calling my name. I think at first I was woken up by his motorcycle coming back home from his shift although that may well have been a dream. He was so angry and immediately started flying off the handle about how drunk I was and what estate I came home. Apparently Mr Warehouse had been trying to call me all morning, ringing more than sixteen times. I think in all fairness he was probably angry out of the fear for when he left for work (with only two-hours sleep) he was terrified of that we would come home to meet dead after choking on my own vomit. Luckily that was not the case however I felt awful for making him so angry. To be fair I don't think I have ever seen him so angry with me. I was devastated and yet confused by the fact that I found myself naked and in my bed but did not look or how I got home.
Even to this moment a trying to terrifies me that I do not know exactly how I got back into my bed that night. All I can be thankful for is Mr Warehouse living with me as I am not sure what state or even if I would have gotten home safely. From the account that my wonderful boyfriend has given, I stumbled through the door at about 2am and made probably as much racket as I possibly could. By this point I had apparently already thrown up outside on the steps leading up to our flat as well as all down our French patio doors as well as the handle. I had as usual come in and gone straight to the bathroom sat on the toilet and throwing up all over myself in a last ditch attempt to aim for the bath. I can only assume that it was at this point that Mr Warehouse was roused from his slumber by my sickening wretches and came to save me, undressing me and putting me to bed safely.
Whilst there has been some serious cleaning and even a moving round of some furniture in order to accommodate hopefully under open plan living situation in our front room, there has been very little if any decorating at all done. I can assure you though that I have most definitely learnt my lesson. I have thought about the missing minutes and hours potentially I have had over this weekend and would even consider the possibility that I may well have been spiked. I suppose that there is always the possibility. Not entirely sure as to why someone would want to spike my drink in particular or maybe they thought that it was Miss Hackney's. Either way something was telling me to just go home and maybe this was my subconscious kicking into action and overhauling my drunken mind. Whatever happened I am most certainly going to be more careful when I am out drinking next time, should there even be a next time since I am still in the dog house!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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