Boris the Easter Bunny came through for us

Hello Lovely Readers, 

The heat from the beginning of the week had certainly disappeared by the time my extended back holiday weekend started on Thursday morning as it was cloudy and grey-white skies outside. I had hoped, at this late stage of Corona-time, Mr Warehouse and I would be taking a trip somewhere like Venice or Paris or somewhere beachy in anticipation for our wedding, however, we are not. But all is not lost as I said before, our Easter weekend started early as Mr Warehouse and I had booked off the Thursday.

Now I would absolutely love to go into the nitty and gritty reasons as to why both myself and my fiance had reserved that day off in particular - Trust me - But all I will say is that because of legal proceedings and the court case still going through I do not want to jeopardize the case and so, therefore, I won't say much more than that but trust me, once this is all settled, I will be putting the kettle on and spilling the tea EVERYWHERE!

But, other than the above, My beau and I had much-a-to-do in order to get our little garden ready in time for the myriad of guests we were due over the weekend. As explained a few weeks ago, our plans started last year when Mr Warehouse and I had thought about a small extension or conservatory. This was something we had actually seen one of our neighbors do in their garden and whilst it was seemingly simple and took only a few hours to build and construct from the timber frame, that type of thing was costly.

So in lieu of this idea and with nothing else to occupy our weekends during the first lockdown, we decided to take the plunge and get the patio extended. However, after looking at the cost of extending we were still being quoted nearly a grand for the work and that was just labor. No parts, no cement, no sand, not paving slabs. For the better part of six / seven months that an English summer hangs around, I just couldn't see the real value it would give. But after we consulted next door (she had laid the patio herself, not a huge amount, but nevertheless, she did it) it gave Mr Warehouse and I the confidence to take the plunge. We purchased the much-sought-after Buff Riven Tiles but with Coronavirus scuppering our plans for family BBQs and summer parties in our newly extended garden, there they lay in our garden for the winter.

But one sunny Saturday afternoon I headed outside to Mr. Warehouse digging. After weeks of chatting through different ideas and ways, we could do what we wanted but on the cheap, he thought it would be a good idea to see just how easy it would be to lay just one row. And so we did. One slab, then two. Three and four and then two more. Admittedly it took nearly four hours the first time (all the while I was literally working in just a bra - And not even a sexy one at that), and a lot of sweat, and lumping dirt and heavy slabs around. But we did it.

I was proud. Proud of being able to save me a damned pretty penny. Proud of actually helping out and doing some heavy laboring and landscaping. Proud of being able to get what I want without a financial compromise. Now don't get me wrong, neither of us are Bob The Builder or Charlie Dimmock, but weekend after weekend we have gone out in the mostly cold and grey weather to do another row of the patio, each Saturday and Sunday chipping away at it. Friday Afternoon we finally finished. Seemed kind of apt considering Good Friday Jesus moved a rock or something and Mr. Warehouse and I were doing the same - Kinda!?

After collecting some railway sleepers for edging the patio (because Mr Warehouse cut on a wonky angle) and the Gazebo from B&M, we were ready to host. Nearly. The luxury Steel Framed Gazebo took several of Saturday's hours to construct, but once up it is perfect for relaxing and chilling out under during those long summer nights or to shelter from the rain. I even had several messages from the neighbors asking where it was from and how nice it looked. And so the scene was set - Cute coffee table with some freshly cut pink roses in a tin pot, my reupholstered and restuffed garden seat cushions (handcrafted by yours truly), the rusty old fire pit, a garden rug, and our garden was ready.

Sunday was soon here and after staying up late to bake an Easter choccie cheesecake, marinated my leg of lamb in minty goodness, and tidy the house I was more than ready for my loved ones to reunite and see each other first time in months. I hadn't seen my Dad properly in person since before Mr. Warehouse and I went to Turkey on our "Fuck off Corona" Holiday, probably my birthday weekend in September maybe, and my Nanny Pumpkin would have been much, much before then, possibly as far back as last summer.

I had been planning East-mas (as I was calling it since it was our Easter and Christmas combined) since Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a road-map detailing that from Monday 29th March 2021, outdoor gatherings of either six people or two households will be allowed in private gardens. And so with a gin glass in hand swirling with ice and lemonade Gin my guests arrived. I was so happy and excited. We chatted and even exchanged belated Christmas pressies with my Nanny Pumpkin all whilst the sun shone on.

Mr. Warehouse and I battled it out for the Easter egg hunt my Dad had set up whilst our backs were turned and in good time the lamb made an appearance, the smell wafting through the garden and no doubt into other peoples. Followed with some garlic baby potatoes and simple salad, the lamb was deemed one of the tastiest pieces of lamb my guests had ever tasted and the choccie cheesecake went down even better with people fighting over the last slice.

I honestly forgot all about the pandemic for a short while and it almost seemed like a normal Easter afternoon in the sunshine. This is something I could definitely get used to and I think that I will now take Easter as my time to host in years to come because let's be fair, they can only get better, right?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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BF4L

Heyy, 

So it would appear that yet again it is Easter and after weeks of planning and looking forward to visiting Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her other half, I picked Miss Tweedle-Dee up after finishing work of Thursday evening, ready for the tedious drive down. Truth be told I actually don't mind driving down to Hampshire to visit, in fact I quite enjoy the drive. Getting there late we all milled around Miss Tweedle-Dumb's flat until the earlier hours, gossipping about friends, family and strangely current affairs. It was not normal that the subjects of news articles were topic of conversation, but it seemed to happen a lot this weekend and I liked it. 

Friday morning Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I awoke and planned out a nice day to a local working farm. Arriving on site with sun shining and Sunnies on I was really enjoying my time with the girls. Ever since Miss Tweedle-Dumb had moved down to Basingstoke last Summer I had been worried she would miss home too much or that Miss Tweedle-Dee and I wouldn't see her as much, and whilst the latter is true, I think we treasure our time together much, much more than we ever used to. For the weeks in between our monthly visits I imagine we all look forward to them as much as the next. 

I know myself just how destructive living with someone can be, well at least for me it was destructive with Mr. Workaholic. So I can understand why she was nervous about moving in with her boyfriend of more years than I can muster, especially seeing me go through the messy break-up and everything else that went with separating whilst still being responsible for a property. It can be so easy to look at someones situation close to you or that you know of sometimes and compare it to your own, even if there are very little commonalities. I worried when Miss Tweedle-Dumb moved away that she would feel isolated, cut off and abandoned in a fresh new area where she knew very little people, most of them her other-half's family. But I am glad that it seems to have all worked out and safe to say that despite the odd bicker here and there, she is flourishing in her new home. 

I suppose in a way though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and my situations were and are very different, even now. I lived with Mr. Workaholic when I was in my late teens and early-20's. I was still learning about myself and dealing with situations most twenty-somethings don't have to contend with. We were both very young and naive and whilst I tried to make it work, for one reason or another it was not meant to be, but I can see now why. Could I really have raised children with a man that thought it was OK to eat nothing but for Chicken flaming dinosaurs and pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner? And whilst we had some good times, Mr. Workaholic and I, it was a case of too much, too soon. It would have never lasted and I am thoroughly glad of all the experiences and people I have met since him and his god awful man-gina habit! 

Walking around the farm on Good Friday, enjoying the extra time off we had together, we saw the regular inhabitants including sheep, baby lambs, cows and pigs, not to mention a donkey with a massive dick and his two bitches in the fields next to him. I never understood why we have never done anything like this before, It seems almost like a right of passage in friendships - Day trips to Zoo's go hand in hand with shopping and cinema outings. But I was glad to be doing something else outside the box with the girls other than the usual shopping and spending money which usually happens when I visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb down South. Obviously after seeing all the sights and sounds of the farm (Including the super hot farmer who was so enthusiastic about the sheep he farmed I would totally let him "ram" me) we headed into town, where I spent waaay more that I should on stuff I probably could have done without including a six-pound lipstick that looks no different to my normal lip colour and an eye-shadow for over fifteen-quid that gives me a mediocre coverage to look like a glitter ball. Also included in my haul were flip flops I did not need for a further four months, cake I did not need to eat and more cheese for my expanding fridge collection of nibbles. 

Nevertheless after my weekend with my friends I was looking forward to going back home to my pooch and boyfriend. I always seem to miss them much more after being away, even if only for a few days. I do however miss my bezzies. but until next month, I will just have to count down the days ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Story of a Generation Robbed ...

Heyy, 

Sat on my second hand-sofa, in my cheap one-bed ground floor flat I struggled to hold back the tears and be happy for the other person on the other end of the phone. After the death of the Landlord, my Dad's girlfriend had recently found out that the property where they both live is being put on the market. With both of them being over fifty, the likelihood of them getting a mortgage was slim and renting would only solve the problem short-term until they retire, and then what? They had both spent the last few weeks stressing over where they were going to be living in a few months time. With some savings they were in a sticky situation but at least they had some savings, maybe not enough for what they wanted, but it was a start, something myself, nor Mr. Warehouse had not even managed to achieve yet. 

Apparently somewhere between the beginning and the end of last month, my father had found enough money for a large deposit on a two-bedroom new built property in an affluent area of outer Bedford. Listening to his excitement yesterday evening I really tried so hard to be supportive and what a "good daughter" should do in that instance. But it was hard, especially when only weeks ago I was explaining about mine and Mr. Warehouse's recent meeting with a mortgage adviser who has pretty much disappeared off the face of the planet since he found out we had no savings. At the time I spoke to my Dad about it in deep meaningful conversation and he mentioned to me on several occasions that he would love to help me out financially but he simply couldn't as he didn't have the money; A phrase which was common when I had difficulties involving financial cost, even when I hadn't asked him for anything. 

Now I am not ignorant or silly to know that when all this was happening, my father, and admittedly his girlfriend, were faced with some hard decisions and tough challenges. Stuck in a situation far worse than mine and with only a decade or two left before retiring their options were limited. So in that respects I fully understand them using the money stashed away from my parents divorce to fund a bright and colourful new home. Either support myself and my girlfriend by funding our own home together and long-term securing our futures together, or gift the only child of two I speak to the once in the chance lifetime of owning her own home and getting onto the property ladder once and for all. 

Of course it is a difficult situation but to be told one thing and then a matter of moments later to find out another is emotional-fuckery. If I am brutally honest I'm really having a hard time processing the lies he had told me previously about how he was not able to help out with the money, both in years gone by and in more recent times, all along knowing that he had enough for generous deposit on a swanky new home. Heartbroken I listened on to the tall-tales and arduous task of choosing tiles and kitchen cupboard doors for his off-plan bought apartment. Welling up I ended the conversation unhappy and on the brink of tears. This wasn't fair. 

As detailed in my previous post (Wish I Was Born In The 80's!) I feel like a robbed generation that has to beg, borrow and steal their way through life, just to make ends meet. The world has moved on and whilst we have better technology, medical advances and new threats to worry about the days of being in a job for the rest of your working life are gone, as are 100% mortgages and a loaf of bread the would cost under fifty-pence. Life now for myself and other millennial's whose parents didn't start them off in life with a Mickey Mouse Trust fund for Eton begins at the bottom. Virtually no chance of getting into University for all the other places have been taken by students who have money and come from a better background to I. Ergo the rest of us muddle our way though our late-teens and early-twenties trying to get by on a pittance of a wage, all because of the generations before us. 

Now by no stretch am I poor or even on the breadline; Mr. Warehouse and I have nice meals out, go on holidays or mini weekends away and are always treating each other to nice presents on birthdays and Christmas. And maybe that is our downfall for if we were not spending this on each other then we could plough it into a house of our own, but the simple fact is that it would take close to a decade to save and in that time I want my life to progress further than a poky flat in the centre of town. I want to get married and have children in that sort of time frame and I can hardly bring up a family when I am trying to scrape every penny I have into a Help-To-Buy ISA. 

I get that my Father couldn't have split his savings with me, although would have been very nice, it would have practically made no sense what-so-ever, so I do understand his actions, I really do, I just don't understand the porkie-pies he told to try and protect his small fortune and it s for that reason that this news will be a hard pill for me to swallow. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Amen.

Evening all, 

So this weekend has been one of the first Bank Holidays for 2015 and as its Easter I would like to wish ya'll a Hoppy (Easter Reference number one) Easter! And whilst I was banging on, and have been for a while now about my future travels and my itchy travel-bug bite, I have stayed at home in Blighty this Bank Holiday and spent the majority of it with the other half, AKA Mr. Warehouse, and some work colleagues, whom also happen to be Mr. Warehouse's friends and family. 

Friday was relaxingly entertaining as Mr. Warehouse and I walked his Golden Retriever in the nearby countryside that backs onto his home just outside Bedford. And so, after a very muddy and soaking-wet trip to the shore of the Lake watching the canine jump in and out of the water like a spawning salmon we all decided to call it a day. Once home we bathed the poor pup, soon settling into the sofa with our Chocolate Easter Eggs and a movie. Saturday Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to go and do some shopping but was hindered slightly by the fact that ever since the previous evening, Mr. Warehouse had been suffering from a tight chest and had barely slept throughout the night. Worried I knew it was an Asthma attack and begged him just to go to a doctors, albeit in vain. After picking up an inhaler we headed out, and returned later than evening from a hard days shopping and browsing to a wonderful Chinese take-away and a chance to meet Mr. Warehouse's Mom's new fella, whom seems nice and friendly, just what she needs, I think! 

Yesterday however was an experience, I have to say. Mr. Warehouse and I had been invited to what was in some way a Christening but was called a "Dedication" meaning that the child would be promised to god and when it was finally old enough to make it's own decision then it could choose whether to be baptised or not. In all fairness I think its a cracking (Easter Reference number two) idea. As a Christian I was brought up with my Grandparents teaching me about the ways of the lord, learning things at Sunday Schools and trips to Church when I stayed at my Nanna and Grandads the occasional weekend my parents wanted some "adult time" away from the kids, and I must say that in all the years I had gone to and been a rather insignificant member of the congregation, albeit a part nevertheless, I had always questioned and doubted the things I had been told were gospel. 

I think that in any respects of religion the science and fact of the twenty-first century outweighs the fables and folklore surrounding them. It is physically, not to mention completely inconceivable to part sea's, turn water into wine and give birth to the son of god whilst claiming to be a virgin still. I have tried turn water into wine, many times, and I have failed on all accounts. Maybe this is because I am not Jesus or god himself. Or maybe it is because they are simple tales to help people who were struggling in a time of upheaval, war and dictatorship. I am positive that like Syria, Iraq and other places in the middle east today, Jerusalem in year dot was not a nice place either. Tales and stories about a couple who was born of humble beginnings becoming the adoptive parents to the saviour of all mankind was something of fairytales. Miracles and adventures to follow the Bible, whilst some of it may be truthful of the time, the majority, in my eyes at least is fiction. I love the ideas that thousands of people can be fed by just a loaf of bread and a couple of fish or that out of everything endured somebody can rise from the dead but these seem to me ancient explanations for very simple life events. 

A man is murdered on a cross and buried in a tomb with a large boulder obstructing the entrance. In the days that follow the body of Christ is nowhere to be found and it is said he has risen again to help all of humanity. Question is science may have an explanation for this. In my mind it is plausible, and in maybe a small case possible, that the boulder was moved due to a shift in the ground such as an earthquake or tremor or even moved by hand. This in turn would open up the cave/tomb to thieves and looters of the time. I mean what was stopping someone getting rid of Jesus' corpse and posing as the Christ Almighty in order to gain fame and notoriety. God was maker of all so why did he not just create more saviours of the world once the only one he ceased existence. 

For example, I went to a funeral last year and all it seemed to be was God this and Jesus that. The focus I feel should be on the person in the box not a man who no-one has really seen. A funeral should be about mourning and celebrating a person and who they were and what they meant to people. A wedding should be about love and the coming together of two people with their families in order to make way for more family members in a stable home with a good, steady upbringing. A christening should be the celebration and joyful beginnings of a child's life. All these events that are held in the presence of the lord, usually in God's house should be about the here and now as well as the future to come, not about the past and how the moment and moments to come would never have happened if it weren't for the sacrificing of God's only son. Now don't get me wrong, I love the idea of a church wedding in the British sunshine and weekly trips on a Sunday morning to see friends and family as well as investing time into the community, but why can't you do that without Religion. Sing songs that are in the charts and that we all know the beat to, talk about issues in the local area that affect real people and praise the good of the world that we live in whilst making a difference to those to home. A church of people and a Religion of Community Spirit. 

Its not fact obviously but in my opinion the Christian religion, at least, is something worth questioning with the information, fact and science we know now. Truth is we will never know if the story of Easter is true, at least by all Christian accounts any way. Its a controversial opinion yes, and one you may disagree with but nevertheless an opinion I have. All I know is that the church I visited with friends and family on Sunday was not as heavy as some others I have attended and as a self-styled 'community church' it was as friendly and inviting as it possibly could be. Indeed, as I looked around sceptically at the church-goers on that bright Sunday morning I saw hope and positivity. Old people that had come and donated their time and money towards something they believed in, a cause for helping others as well as an excuse to get out of the house once a week and meet up with some old faces over a cuppa and a Rich Tea. In their wrinkles I saw lives that had been lived fully, tragedy and joy endured and not all in equal measures. They were living for something. People from all walks in life, old and young, disabled and abled, poor and well-off - This is what they believed in and had faith with someone from a story book written hundreds of years ago. But most of all it made them happy. As the singing came to a close and the ceremony over with I noted the peacefully nature of the place and the smiles and grins on the faces of all who left. It then dawned on me as I looked over at the children's reading books in the corner - Religion is no different than Cinderella or Snow White. Difference is that whether you are a follower of it or not, without it the world would be a very, very different place indeed ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Easter Exploits

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Hello there,

Hope you all are doing well and have had a lovely Easter and an excellent Bank Holiday weekend. I m currently writing to you from the comfort of a cream love seat of Grandma Cheese's bungalow near Southend, Essex. I have come down with Mr. Cheese to spend a few days relaxing and enjoying what wonderful weather we have. Currently I have the boyfriend well trained and making dinner. Duck is on the menu tonight!

I have been up to a lot since we last spoke and thanks to all my hard work looking for work itself I have finally got a new job. After attending an interview at a carpet cleaning company last Friday and impressing the staff so much invited me back for a second stage interview.  So less than seventy-two hours after my initial contact with the company and I knew I had it pretty much in the bag. With a salary larger than what I was on at my last place of employment and a commute that isn't nearly as expensive or time-consuming I know I shall be much happier here. It also means that Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I can have another hilarious holiday this summer. And so this time next week I shall be writing about my first day in my new job.

Other than having a horrendous case of influenza and being very poorly for the most part of the week I can now feel myself slowly getting better and better which is just as well given my love for a long weekend. Friday was spent entertaining my auntie and nanna from my mother's side of the family whilst desperately trying to keep my nine-year-old cousin preoccupied so he wouldn't spy all the goodies I have in my cupboards.  It was nice to have them over and even nicer that I could host them in what I still call my new flat despite being in my fourth month of residence there. I like how gobsmacked and astonished people are when they see it and all the wonderful gushing comments they make too, especially when its the side of the family that I have least contact with. After they had left with promises to catch up again soon I called the girls to invite them over disregarding the major flu I had. As night fell and Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got into their pyjamas I decided to take a turn for the worst. Joining Miss Tweedle-Dumb outside whilst she puffed away on a cigarette I could feel I wasn't right. My legs were woozy and my head was heavy. Before I knew it I had my head sandwiched between my two wheelie-bins throwing up the prawn crackers Miss Tweedle-Dee had just fed me. After that I was swiftly escorted back upstairs to my flat and tucked in bed only to spend the rest of the night in a cold sweat with a sore back and being serenaded by my two best friends with the soundtrack to Disneys Frozen.

Saturday I plodded round Bedford town centre with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb smelling candles we couldn't smell due to our cold's and trying desperately not to look too ill. Later that evening I went to visit Mr. Cheese and his family at their large house in the countryside surrounding Bedfordshire. I attempted food but struggled to handle a few mouthful's before calling it a day. Slipping into some less than attractive pyjamas back at my flat Saturday night I was sure that Mr. Cheese would not want to have sex with me and although the following morning he admitted to being up for it he had decided not to try it on as I was feeling poorly. Safe to say though that sex the following morning woke me up and has left my head with two large lumps just the right width matching the width between the spokes on my black, iron-framed bed.
I lacked appreciation for the slow Sunday that followed mine and Mr. Cheese's rampant morning cuddled between the sheets watching property programmes but nevertheless was a nice afternoon spent in the company of his family including Mr. Cheese's warm mother, entertaining father and boisterous younger brother's. Football yet again was on the box which in turn meant I was slightly neglected on the affection front but boyfriend soon made up for it when I was presented with my Easter bunny - A Reeses Peanut Butter Bunny no less! Not only was this but I was also gifted a large Yankee Candle that smelt of laundry and some very bright summery flowers all packaged in a colourful gift bag that I will no doubt use at a later date. I was spoilt by the family too with a huge white chocolate egg the size of my head. I have yet to bring these home to my flat as Mr. Cheese and I headed to Southend from the family home after dinner leaving my humongous egg and flowers behind. As a result I have taken the brave step of inviting Momma Cheese round to the flat to drop off my gifts and for coffee so I can gloat about my abode a little more this week.

Today though I have felt a lot better in terms of my influenza but maybe that has been helped by the fact that nostalgia aside, sex in a single bed is still as good as it was when I was eighteen! And yes that is the age when I lost my virginity! After a morning of nearly beating Mr. Cheese at golf in my first ever encounter with the sport we headed to the sea front for a wander and some much anticipated sea food delight's. I also met an old friend of Mr. Cheese's from his teenage years and so the three of us wasted our afternoon drinking Pimm's by the waters edge in a pub beer garden. Of course ice cream was consumed and a lovely sunny evening followed to where I am now on in the warmth of a cosy, old-fashioned lounge and as the rain gently patters on the windows I can sense that my lovingly prepared duck dinner is nearly ready.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

I Love Bank Holiday's!

Hello,
 
Happy Easter everyone! I hope you all had a good bank holiday - if you get one that is. Here in the UK we got a four day weekend stretching from Friday to Monday. And after the way I ended the last edition I should probably explain what I actually got up to. Well for the most part the weather held out, and by that I mean it didn't rain. It did snow several times, the most inconvenient was when I was walking from the station to my cousin's birthday party. Note to self: Walking across a muddy field with sheepskin boots on and trying to look sexy in front of footballers is not a good look when you have the arctic flying into you at forty-miles an hour. But aside from the weather everything else went swimmingly. Apart from a minor dispute however with Miss Chocolate which I shall not go into as I would get so angry you could fry an egg on my face. It has not yet been fully resolved I think but things like this will need time to grow again. Fingers crossed we'll be OK soon though, I need someone who wont disapprove of my Harlequin ways when were out. I had a free house to myself the weekend as Ma and Pa went away for a dirty weekend in a Caravan. 'If the caravan's rocking, don't come knocking' is there cringe moto - I don't think there is anything less sexually appealing than thinking that people over the age of 45 ''do-it'' *Sick face and vomit noise*
 
Thursday night after work I had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee come round and we vegged out watching telly and eating pizza. After Miss Tweedle-Dumb had left to visit her boyfriend, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I decided to hit the sack. That was until we realised we couldn't lock the front door as I had misplaced my house keys somewhere in the lounge. I knew they were there as I had let myself and the girls in and after locking the door behind us, put them down somewhere. We had been looking constantly for several hours now and in the small hours of Friday morning I called it a night, pushed all the furniture back to its rightful place and wedged a coffee table behind the front door. This did not however stop Miss Tweedle-Dee from making up tales of how we would be raped and shot in the night by intruders to which I brushed off despite thinking the very same thing the previous night when the door had been locked and my Father in the room adjacent. Morning broke through the window as we both squinted at one another. lying in bed together with morning breath and hair all over the place like an old married couple. I investigated downstairs and promptly returned to infirm my bed-partner that there was no intruders in the night and if there were then they were very sneaky to get out again putting everything back right as I left it. Once up and dressed we started to plan our day when Miss Tweedle-Dumb called with some spooky news. "I have found your keys" she says excitedly but nervously holding back more information. After probing she continued. "They were in the back of my car, neatly placed on the floor behind where you were sitting" she said. Gobsmacked I started to well up with joy and horror. Who could have put them there? We didn't go back into the car once we were in the house? Did the invisible elderly lady who lives with me do it as she has done with many other things before? We may never know.

Later on we left for some shopping near London with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and some other friends of ours. As usual the day ended with lunch in our favourite pub, gossipping over men and other idiosyncrasies as well as our ghostly encounter the previous night. Throughout Saturday morning before I went out to spend the day with family, I rearranged the house to accommodate my friends who were coming to mine for pre-drinks before Saturdays big 80's V 90's headphone-disco night out. The table was laid out with a roulette shot's game, a game of naughty charades was nearby. Alcohol, mixers and chocolate was covering the counters in the kitchen. An airbed had been arranged (but not blown up due to the lack of batteries I had working) and make-up, hair and dressing stations had been assigned in the lounge. Everyone was due to arrive at 7pm. Well, 7pm came and went, so did 7.30pm and 8pm. Finally at quarter-to-nine they arrived. Miss Tweedle-Dumb's car had broken down and there was issues trying to find parts to fix it. Regardless they were here and we started to get ready, dance, drink and play games. Lets just say you don't know your friends until you play a round or two of 'never have I ever' with them.

Calling a cab to town we darted around looking for money, phone and most of all keys! Jumping in the cab I think I was the only one to carry on drinking and also to strike up conversation with the fellow that was driving us towards a night of madness and mayhem. Once inside the alternative-club the headphones went on and the inhibitions came off. I spent the night howling away to cheesy pop classics from our childhood and dancing the moves that matched them. At one point I found myself "lost" and coincidentally made friends with a very nice chap who showed me how he dances - with his tongue. As in kissing - nothing else, god, I'm not that much of a floozy! Then before I knew it, somehow I was on the floor in a heap with my arms and legs flailing around like an upside down beetle looking for help. Thankfully this young man whose face was somewhat blurred by the amount of alcohol I had exceeded picked me up and just continued where he left off. I must have got bored as I just left and went to go and find the others without even saying goodbye. Rude I know - but I'm blaming it on the alcohol. That night we all returned home where apparently there was an argument over ordering a take-away of which I was in the middle of completely KO on the lounge floor. I woke the following morning on the flattened airbed on my bedroom floor after being kicked from my drunken slumber by Miss Tweedle-Dumb as she made her way to the bathroom.

Sunday I spent mostly recovering form a hangover that I had didn't anticipate. I never get hangovers. Why was Sunday the day to start?! Fully-recovered Monday was spent in my home-town wondering around boutiques and being chatted up by weirdo-couple's trying to stroke me. Strangely though, after the weekend that I have had I have not made any pounces on the male variety and for once in a very, very long time I am not lusting or longing for anyone. I suppose this is what its like to be single then, but hopefully not forever. Out on the prowl soon I hope.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx