Hand(luggage), Face(mask), Space(-d out sun loungers)

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last weeks McDonalds brekkies, Bottomless brunches and heavenly crepes, I have not exactly been going in the right direction when it comes to my newly started Slimming World Journey. I get that everyone has put on a pound (or twelve) during the whole Lockdown thing, however I think if anything, and maybe it is the age thing talking now - I just dont give a fuck. I enjoyed last weekend so much so I think I have realised that yes, whilst I, like most people, need to eat more fruit and veggies and maybe move a bit more, I enjoy food and I dont want to be sat in a room of people every Tuesday evening clapping for Brenda or someone else who lost half a pound. I wanna be boosting Brenda up and telling her I fricken love those sweatpants she is rocking or how she has her hair today. I want to be around empowering women and not making them feel bad that they fell off the wagon a few days in a week and had a damned KitKat. And so I think when I return from my holiday (less than 48-hours to go and counting) I will rennounce all Slimming World visits only goign in for the bare minimum whilst I see out my remaining week's I have pre-paid for, checking in on my ever fluctuating weightloss. 

And sowith less than eight hours of work to go, the countdown is well and truely on. As I had explained last week, my finaly year of my twenties I want to do stuff, see stuff, visit places and just tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything - Weddings, Work/Life balance, Halloween, Career, Parties and social activities, even holidays - Or so I thought before I got the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY! This time next week ladies and gentlemen get ready to be green with envy as I will be 2,393 miles away from here in Marmaris, Turkey. 

Flying out Wednesday, Mr Warehouse and I will be leaving our pups behind to play with their sister (Frankenstien's Pup-Sister) and Momma Warehouse AKA 'Grandma' for a whole week with friends and family dropping by throughout the time I am sure. Jetting off to the Mediterranean resort town along the Turkish Riviera, also known as the Turquoise Coast, Marmaris is a dreamy location with pebbly beaches and long seafront promenades, perfect for just getting away from it all. The seaside, tourist hotspot is known for its lively nightlife on Bar Street which is home to open-air clubs and music venues, however from some of the YouTube videos and vlogs we have watched over the last fortnight or so, most of them seem closed. Marmaris sits in a valley between pine-forested mountains and clear waters, which are popular sailing and diving destinations, something Mr Warehouse and I are hopihn we might be able to find an excursion or two.

Our hotel is to die for as well. Situated right on the beachfront sea lapping up against your toes, The Poseidon Hotel offers a private beach area with a jetty and free sun loungers, parasols and cabanas beds. The hotel has both an indoor and outdoor pool as well as a Turkish bath, sauna and a fitness centre. All room are beautifully carpeted throughout and what looks like marbled stone private bathrooms with a hairdryers, free toiletries and everything else you could possibly need for your stay. Air conditioning as an absoloute must for Mr Warehouse after several dodgey budget hotels with little or none and I am sure that the TV and minibar will be put to good use also. 

With the All Inclusive menu there will be plenty to pick from I am sure, or maybe something à la carte where Mr Warehouse and I can enjoy selected dishes from Turkish and international cuisines. If we fancy it Marmaris city centre is less than a two-mile walk from the hotel with plenty more options for food and nightlife. According to Booking.com, "according to independent reviews, this is guests' favourite part of Marmaris and Couples particularly like the location rating it 8.9 for a two-person trip." so I am positive we will have a good time and with Free WiFi available throughout the hotel I am sure you will all be getting sick and tired of my constant 'Gramming by Thursday Morning. 

Oh and did I mention - Its adults only! No screaming Wayne's around poolside wanting their fifth ice-cream in a row. No crying Abigail because she cant use the Hammam mud chambers. No silly slides or water fountains (although not going to lie, probs gonna miss that myself). So grab your overpried straw sun hat from Accessorize and the Haviana's you bagged from your bestie when she was having a clear out and let get our holiday on!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Last Year of my Twenties ...

Evening, 

Strolling into the office, I was feeling excited I had less than a few hours left before a weekend of fun and birthtday activities. Friday was my 29th year on the planet, gracing you all with my precence (haha) and I was certain to make the damned most of it, COVID or not! And so after a dental appointment Thursday afternoon I poured myself a nice big glass ofof the good stuff and enjoyed a night of telly, all in the knowledge I would be jam-packed with people to see and places to go come tomorrow. 

Friday morning came soon enough though and just like the good old days I dropped Mr Warehouse to work, but not before a cheeky McDonald's Breakfast. The start to the day of kings, or at least this one. Double sausage and egg McMuffin meal with a large toffee-nut latte and side of hash brown. Winning! Once back at home I settled in for the morning as the sun continued to rise, watching crappy daytime TV and snoozing with the pups, all before heading out for a spot of what I hoped would be lucrative Halloween shopping however proved fruitless. But the best was yet to come as arriving back home I had a treat in store, well for my oven at least. 

Ever since moving in (nearly two-years ago now) Mr Warehouse and I have been meaning to clean the oven. I know, I know. It is a horrible dirty little secret but telling you all I am sure I am not the only one who has had every intention of sitting there on the kitchen floor of a weekend afternoon, desperatly trying to work out how the oven door comes off whilst the wire racks and trays sit on the counter-top fizzing in bicarb and vinegar. Alas, my future husband and I had all the best ideas when purchasing Oven Pride over 18-months-ago, but there is always something (anything) better to do of a weekend than spent scrubbing on all fours trying not to get bummed into the cooker Hansel and Gretel style by lover boy over there. And so I bought a service so that they would come along, clean and srub all my dirtiness away and leave it gleaming so I can (now) stay n top of it so I dont have the embarressment of calling someone out again and having to lie (unconvincingly) through my teeth that it was only cleaned six-months ago. 

Following the collection of Mr Warehouse we headed home for a bit until it was time to leave for some QT with Miss Tweedle-Dee. Although on arrival her new gaff was packed with her Mom, Dad and not-so-little brother as well as Miss JoHo (now not a Jehovahs Witness). Lots of alcohol followed with some good laughs and giggles. But turning 29, the last few days on the run-up had been reflective. This will be the first year without my Scottish Grandmother and her force of nature was certainly missing from my life, something I have been feeling more now that I ever did before. I dont know, maybe it is the fact that unlike when my Granddad passed away, I still continue to get birthday and Christmas cards from my Nanny Pumpkin, they just dont have the inclusion of "and Granddad" at the end. But this year, it will just be nothing. No "lots of love and hugs and god bless". No funny tongue in cheek card. No money wrapped up carefully in tinfoil. Nothing. And since Scottish Granda' passed long before I knew of grandparents and the impact they have on a growing human, this is the end of an era. 

Saturday my head was fuzzy to say the least, but continuing with the fun (and after doing menial tasks like lumping our old triple wardrobe about the place for someone who came to buy it) Mr Warehouse and I headed off to Bedford Town Centre for something I had wanted to do for ages ... Bottomless Brunch. As the Slug and Lettuce website confirms, "brunch is one of the most important meals of the day" and paired with bottomless bubbles the experience all the more better. Lasting two hours, on arrival Mr Warehouse and I joined our old work colleagues Miss Hackney & Miss Sugarcoat dined from a simple brunch menu choosing Eggs Benedict of course, however the less than attentive team were slow and it wasn't lng before we were ordering two-at-a-time-mimosa's. 

But I couldnt get so shit-faced, I had to go dinner with my Dad and his wife, now of over a year would you believe it? A family run countryside English Inn, The Carrington Arms is situated in the picturesque village of Moulsoe, about a ten-minute journey by car from our home in Cranfield. I had been itching to visit the award winning restaurant for a while now but it was always fully booked during the whole "Eat Out to Help Out" thing in August and after mentioning it in passing my Dad had said he would book a table for my birthday. 

Ariving early I made Mr Warehouse take some pictures of me in my denim jumpsuit finery amoungst the Insta-worthy grounds, all before meeting our dinner guests and walking through into the bar, adorned with a huge selection of gin bottles, towering up the walls as well as draught beers, lagers, real ales and an extensive, handpicked wine list. Sitting down we chatted about my Dad and wife's recent holiday to Northern England including Durham and York, somewhere me and Mr Warehouse would love to travel to again. 

Starting with a Mango and Passionfruit gin I followed it with my favorite starter - Deli Carpaccio of Seared Bedfordshire Beef Fillet, Charred Cucumber, Filo Brick Pastry, Smoked Mustard Mayonnaise, Dill, Pink Pepper & Shaved Pecorino. Following that, my main had to continue the same caliber and since the restaraunt served locally raised Bedfordshire Beef (sold by the gram I might add) I just had to try some, although I was disappointed to discover that in "normal times" pre-Corona you could ahve gone and selected your own steak and watched it being cut and cooked on our charcoal grill. Washed down with plenty of good wine I was far too full from brunch and bubbles plus dinner to even entertain a dessert and so I have just booked to return soon and certainly so for our traditional Christmas eve meal out. 

A few drinks with some of Mr Warehouse's family to see one of the younger ones off to Uni in Liverpool ensued followed by our heads hitting the pillows and falling fast asleep. Most Sunday's are now spent lazing in bed watching Youtube before Mr Warehouse heads out to watch his (or really should be our) Nephew play football and this weekend was no different, I found myself chilling around the house and watching yet more documentaries on Dennis Neilson (self-consuming myself since the incredibly spooky and true-to-likeness docuseries on ITV called "Des" played by David Tennant - Uhh just fascinating you must watch it if you havent already), before heading over to see Brother and Sister-in-law, kids and the most adorable little puppy called Lola ever! 

Wrapping up the weekend in style, Mr Warehouse and I headed to French Affaire, a French inspired restaurant buried in the heart of quaint Stony Stratford near Milton Keynes. Meeting my Scottish side of the family it was nice to finally come full-circle and feel a little better about having my first birthday without my Scotch Nanna. Stepping into the beautiful restaurant I was swept away by the exquisite and elegant interior, including sparkling chandelier, living moss wall and plush furnishings, not to mention a sunny terrace area complete with flowers in full bloom. And unlike The Blossom Room in Milton Keynes Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tried during August's "Eat Out to Help Out" thing, French Affaire's clean & simple cooking was full of flavour and you could tell that many of the ingredients were from local suppliers. Opting for something healthy (probably the first drink I had since Thursday that wasn't alcoholic) I chose a smoothie of blended carrot, goji berries, banana, mango and some other shit to add up to my five-a-day. Our late lunch was compromised of smashed avacado on Sourdough toast with poached eggs and chilli followed by the best Crepe I think I have had outside of France itself - Baileys, Oreo crumbles and White Chocolate sauce. Uh heavenly!

And so the rollercoaster continues into my finaly year of my twenties as some weeks I am good and others, like last week, I just want to tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything, however unlike last week where I thought I had to kiss goodbye to dreamy Greek islands or lush Italian breaks; This week I am looking forward to the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Helping Out and Eating Out

Afternoon, 

Tattoo finally settling down I write to you after an eventful and laid back kind of bank holiday weekend. As things start to get back to more normality, or whatever this new bullshit is now, Mr Warehouse and I have visited friends, family and even done a spot of masked-up shopping at a local retail park. However there is one thing I am looking forward to tonight, as I have done for the full month of August and that is one of my fave things to do of all time - Eating out!

Announced mid-July 2020, the Gov.uk website states that from 3rd to 31st August, foodies can get a 50% discount when you eat in Monday to Wednesday's that are registered with the Eat Out to Help Out Scheme. But what is it and how does it work? 

With the scheme launched in order to boost more spending from the Great British public following the reopening of many of our favourite haunts by the Governments Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak, with the Eat Out to Help Out Scheme means many can get a 50% discount on food or non-alcoholic drinks to eat or drink in (up to a maximum of £10 discount per diner) as many times as you like. You do not need a voucher but can use it at the same time as other offers and discounts. The discount will be automatically taken off the bill should you eat in on the designated days and establishments will then claim a reimbursement from the government for the discount they’ve given you. 

Winner, winner chicken dinner. And you can take your pick from Nandos to KFC and other local chicken shops as there is no minimum spend. Some of the drawbacks though? You cannot claim discount on alcoholic drinks or service charges. Where can you use it you ask? Participating establishments may include restaurants, cafés, bars or pubs and even some work or school canteens. With all diners in a group of any size being able to use the discount it is certainly one that has been popular the last few weeks.

Mr Warehouse, Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself have certainly taken advantage of the Eat Out to Help Out Scheme at a participating establishments and quite frankly taken the piss sometimes, eating out at least once a week, sometimes two or three. 

Week one I took the chance to frequent somewhere I had been meaning to take Mr Warehouse, Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself for several months - Pasha. Located in close proximity to Bletchley Park near Milton Keynes, Pasha are leaders of exquisite Turkish and Mediterranean Cuisine and proud to have reached the Finals of the British Best Kebab Awards 2020.With every meaty morsoul ever-so slightly charred on the outside, tender and succulent on the inside there are no ovens, pots or pans. Just teasing flames from the grill and the best ingredients we can source in locally from within the Buckinghamshire area. Being Turkish food it was a more healthier and fresher choice but with their signature welcome bread and salad prepared the authentic way on site by experienced chefs and platters to die for it was the perfect place to start our culinary journey. 

Week two was Date Night and Mr Warehouse chose an Indian down the road from where he used to live in the next village over. Lounge India welcomed us on a rainy but terribly humid Tuesday but was nice to visit and get the history that it was once a pub run by Mr Warehouse's Dad. Specialising in Indian & Bangladeshi food, every dish was authenticly cooked which were mouth-watering delish, if a little different for me (someone who had never eaten out at a Indian in my life up until that point and barely had a takeaway from one). But with each dish cooked fresh to order and using the finest combination of spices, most of which were freshly grounded in the kitchen.

Week three was special since it was Mr Warehouse's birthday. On the day, following an escape room experiance (honestly so much fun and 100% doing it again), I treated the Bae to dinner at Browns Milton Keynes, conveniently located just over the road on Midsummer Boulevard. Whether it’s a pre-shopping lunch, afternoon tea or, as in our instance, an la carte dinner, the menu delivers fresh and seasonal dishes and all served in the comfort of our stylish yet cosy brasserie ith the elegant yet comfortable bar in the background offering exceptional drinks including classic and contemporary cocktails which we just had to try. 

Last week I had another disappointment (although not on the same level as the Indian) when Miss TweedleDumb and I branched out and visited the Blossom Room, again in Miltons Keynes Hub District. Instagram worth posts lured me to the establishment, however whilst the venue itself screamed dinner with the girls pre-night out, the food was slightly letting the "show" down. I dont know maybe its just not the kind of place you go for food because the cocktails were lovely. Certainly looking at the website it is the perfect Hen-Do starter location with Cocktail Masterclasses and VIP Booths or maybe a calmer Afternoon Tea or Bottomless Brunch to tickle your fancy. Anyhoo, definatly worth a visit for afterworks drinks and to decompress from your office in the tower block next door, the Blossom Room comes with golden angel wings to pose next to, cherry blossoms to gasp at and flower walls with neon signs to lust over, but not really somewhere for food, especially so when the website describes itself as "Japanese-inspired where the theatre of food and drink is served" and here I was expecting sushi and dancing Kimchi. 

Tonight was the last day and so we went out in style booking one of the last tables at The Smoke Pit in Northampton. Right in the heart pretty much of the town and situated behind the buildng I did some of my first ever counselling sessions in and next to The Cordwainer, a Wetherspoons pub whee I had my first post-college job after moving from the 'Shire, it was certainly an experiance being back. A casual, compact BBQ restaurant with sofas and high stools, for pulled pork & chargrilled meats, it was an exclectic mix of odds and sods collected from bric-a-brac shops with an all american feel and a nod to street food and art. The venue alone had Mr Warehouse and I looking around for the whole of our duration there and definatly somewhere to be coming back, if only to try the mega-death shakes my Dad had reccommended to us so highly. 

However as week sixteen starts and the bank holiday ends, so does EOTHO. But does it have to? A news article from the BBC has gone into detail about how beneficial this has been for eateries and establishments up and down the country. Since it was originally designed to boost the struggling hospitality industry, in its first three-weeks over 63 million discounted meals were ordered, but now as the "freebie" ends several restaurants say they will carry it on at their own expense including Tesco Café, The Real Greek, Harvester & Toby Carvery  just to name a few. 

Obviously some of the critics have had had their fill so as to speak and with fast-food chains such as Burger King, McDonalds and others having taken part EOTHO has drawn questioning from some anti-obesity campaignersand ergo pointing the finger at government and asking whether this is them giving a ''green light to promote junk food''. This is something I can totally get behind and understand since the discount doesnt seem to sit well alongside the government's healthy eating plan that bans "buy one get one free" deals on unhealthy food and this is not even taking into consideration the growing evidence of links between obesity and an increased risk from coronavirus. 

Do I think it should continue? Yes is the short answer. However I feel like the little guy is getting left behind as the bigger multi-site corperations can afford to take the hit of a tenner a head, little independants maybe cant and that can't be good for business or economies. If it is extended then whoopie for me and all my loved ones, but I think the government needs to get smarter with their "help" and only allow smaller companies to cash in on the benefits whilst also offering discounted gym memberships or fitness schemes because hell only knows I will need something to shift this Corona-comforter from my waist!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Greener Grass and Flecks of Gold

Evening All, 

Only a week after payday I really wondered how I was so poor. I did not have to look far though as my bank balance for our new house fund was slowly growing. Soon I hoped that I would see that little comma appear proving that I was doing the right thing by saving all my pennies but I never knew how stressful and broke it would make me feel knowing I have money but it is tied up and away. Now don't get me wrong I knew that this would not be an easy journey, saving every scrap of money that both me and Mr Warehouse have between us was certainly going to be a struggle especially when I am giving up on my summer holiday this year with Mr. Warehouse, something that makes me deeply sad and frustrated for this was going to be the year that we were going to have a blowout holiday were by the head off somewhere hot by the beach relaxing for a week or two. 

Anyway enough with the same old same old, and back to the good old good old. That's right, after far far too long apart, me, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat along with her latest Beau met in a local eatery for some Mexican food and what I hoped would be a change to the normal schedule of shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots! It had been a long time since I saw them and it felt like I was going back to something familiar. I enjoy their company separately with Miss Hackney's laughter and down to earth approach mixed in with some gritty tales of the dating game (some more horrific and hilarious than mine I might add) and Miss Sugarcoat's intellectual conversation and ideas on life along with the added spice of strong controversial opinions (some of which I back entirely and some I try to hide from and pretend she is not with me), yet together we seem to create so much noise that it is sometimes hard to hear myself think. 

Harping back to the good old times in which we used to fart around in the office not doing much work or course, we reminisced well into the evening and chatted about life as we know it now with our new relationships, friendships and jobs. I had so much to tell them as they had for me although I felt that we were all talking over each other and that the noisy restaurant did not help. Both Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat seemed to have developed and carved out good careers for themselves, expanding on their talents and skills in order to obtain well paying jobs. This left me slightly questioning if I ever made the right decision moving, even though I knew in my heart that's a good decision was made. OK so I am not earning £35,000 working for a plumbing and heating company and I am also not spending my evenings and weekends attending events that I am hosting in aid of cosmetic beauty. Am I happy I jumped ship? Yes certainly and with everything that has happened in the last year and a half I think I have a fairly good deal where I am at the moment especially given the pay, ever-growing relationships both in and outside of the office as well as the fact that I now have a similar relationship with my engineers as I had before with my old ones. 

As the shots kept coming I knew that my hopes of a quiet and sophisticated chat over dinner would not be the case this evening. Maybe another night I thought. Maybe a quiet evening in with a bottle or two and a comfy sofa to put the world to rights would be just what we all needed to calm down a bit for the atmosphere of a busy restaurant on a Friday night and then a loud pub with DJ were probably not the ideal places to share stories from the last eighteen months or so since I left. This was not to say that I was not enjoying myself knocking back shots of tequila whilst sipping on Prosecco, trying to keep an ounce of classy about the evening of course. As we rambled through the evening, drinking more and chatting less I was enjoying myself but in a different kind of way that I was used to and an alternative way I would if I was with my current work colleagues. 

I suppose in the grand old scheme of things that this is the big difference between my old workplace and where I work now. The majority of the time that I spent with my old work colleagues was getting drunk and talking about shite. That is not to say that given a problem or issue I was experiencing I could not talk to my old work colleagues and looking back on my time there I got some brilliant advice from some amazing people who I would like to consider even now as friends despite not talking in quite some time. A night out on the tiles now consists of going round to someone else to pre-drinking in a sophisticated fashion all whilst helping each other to get dressed and gossipping as women do, then heading into town for a nice meal and some cocktails afterwards. And whilst I don't feel like I have achieved that level of conversation with anyone of my current work colleagues at this moment in time, that is not to say that if something was bugging me or I needed to talk to someone that I would have no one to talk openly to as I am sure that there would be plenty of people to offer a sympathetic ear - I hope at least. 

Nevertheless my Friday evening spent with my old work colleagues or certainly a laugh and certainly something that we will make sure not to leave so long again. Isn't it funny I thought to myself and as I later tried to explain to Man-Brain Mr. Warehouse - You spend a good majority of your life working and those people you work with, if you are close, know everything about you and your life as you do about them and theirs. From Monday to Friday, Nine 'til Five you spill your guts about how your feeling and what happened at home or over the weekend. The kids, the other-half, the house, the in-laws and everything and everyone in between. You get to know their social networks and circles without ever actually meeting them and are able to provide comfort and warmth in a time of need. They know your relationships better than maybe you do yourself and can even offer advise that could change everything. With the staples and cellotape and paperclips galore they help you as much as you help them in times of joy, sorrow, support and laughter, colleagues like mine at my old job were like literal tiny flecks of gold dust, blowing into your life five-days-a-week. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Pacing Prague And Other Tales!

Ahoj!

Racing around like a blue-arse-fly I was now stuck in a serious traffic jam on the A421. Stand still. Not. Moving. Anywhere. Frustratingly I spent over double the amount of time it would normally take me to get to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house for our Pre-Holiday sleepover. After a spot of telly and a night time snack of coffee and Jaffa Cakes we headed to bed for an early night. Waking the next morning the staples of toast and more coffee ensued and afterward it was time to head to the airport. Thanks to Pappa Tweedle-Dee we arrived in good time and after changing up more money (to think I was worried about not having enough) we headed shopping and for a bite to eat. 

Boarding the plane Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were excited and just over ninety-minutes later, with a rather uneventful flight in general that had passed really quickly we had arrived. Touching down we collected our bags and headed through nothing to declare and awaited our driver. And waited. And waited. Went outside into the cold early evening air for a quick Vape Sesh and then back in. Still no driver and it was now I started to panic. Was this a scam? Have I made a grave mistake in booking a hotel and not looking at the reviews? I had been talking to the receptionist for the last few days as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had many questions but maybe it was all a set up and now I am in a foreign land where I know virtually no Czech and am struggling to call their offices! Help! Just then, as if by magic a pink-shirted gentleman approached us as if from no where and asked us if it was us he was looking for. We must have looked lost! He took my bag (Miss Tweedle-Dee carried her own) and we headed to the car. Driving through the streets of Prague we swapped small talk and asked advice on where is best to eat and visit in the city, but more-so where not to go. 

Finally arriving at the apartment and figuring out our own way on how we get in after being abruptly told by a moody jobs-worth of a receptionist, we settled into what I can only describe as a very white, clean and well equipped studio apartment. Small for the two of us it certainly ticked all the boxes and provided us with everything we could have wanted or needed in our time here including a super comfy memory-foam double bed, small dining table and chairs, wardrobe, safe and small kitchenette consisting of the microwave, kettle, under-the-counter fridge and sink. There is / was a hob however we did not use it. In the hallway was a coat-rack and areas to put boots and other outdoor wears and opposite was a toilet and separate bathroom complete with a very small shower, washing machine and sink. Cosy to say the least, but in all fairness it was a place we would spend the next few nights in bed, scrolling through social media and sleeping before heading out again. That being said the stairs are and have been an issue. Three flights that curve round and are usually shrouded in darkness have certainly been the bain of our lives. 

For our first night in Prague, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I hadn't made any real plans in terms of dinner and neither of us had actually reviewed or researched any where near our apartment for some dinner and therefore we wandered rather aimlessly towards what looked like the Christmas Market set-up. Around there we found what looked like a rather neglected from the outside restaurant, but to be fair it looked warm and I was getting cold so I persuaded Miss Tweedle -Dee to come inside with me. And oh boy was it the best choice we made, I think probably all holiday. Since we had both eaten lunch pretty late neither Miss Tweedle-Dee or I were that hungry so opted just for a single main course from the French Restaurant menu. I ordered a roasted Guinea Fowl and the Bestie ordered a Pork Belly with Potato Puree. This was all washed down with a couple of beers. Such a stunning meal and honest to god I would definitely recommend it so if you are heading to Prague you need to go to La Gare just round the corner from the main Palladium shopping center (which is deceivingly huge by the way, like some sort of shopping tardis!)

Waking up in the city the next morning I was glad for being here and on holiday once again. Heading out into the fresh chilly air we looked round the Christmas Market Areas round the areas surrounding our hotel and found ourselves moving over to the Old Town Square area. We watched the Astronomical Clock and pottered around some of the churches and architectural landscapes surrounding the infamous area. Wandering then took us over the Charles Bridge, and sauntering across the river Vltava and finding ourselves in a small cafe, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I ordered a traditional goulash and some Camembert, accompanied with some tasty raspberry infused beer! Delish! The following days were spent very similarly, touring round Prague, taking photos, filming filler for my holiday Vlog and visiting the many Christmas Markets around the city. 

A visit to several of the most popular tourist hot-spots were also frequented by Miss Tweedle-Dee and I including the Prague Castle which is the largest Castle in the world sprawling out over eighteen acres. Me and the Bestie also visited the Sex Machine Museum which I will be honest was a slight let down, although the Creepy Bear (picture uploaded to my Facebook page if you really need an example) and other apparatus were certainly interesting but possibly not worth the nearly ten-quid entry fee?! Another maybe more worth while waste of money being a tourist in Prague was with our visit to the Chocolate Museum / factory just off The Old Town Square. Other than this simply wandering round the shops and Christmas Markets and stalls have occupied both Miss Tweedle-Dee and I throughout our stay here. 

Eating out in Prague has certainly been an experience which in my opinion was miles and miles ahead of my experiences in Tenerife with Mr. Warehouse in the Summer. Our first night I have already touched on and whilst I was given loads of advise from tonnes of people I knew who had visited Prague before as well as some helpful vloggers and bloggers who live in Prague and the Czech Republic, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I hit up some really, really good restaurants. Firstly there is the cafe round the corner from our accommodation called Cafe Apetit. Whilst I am almost certain that all that occupied at the time we visited on Sunday Morning / Afternoon were all local, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggled through our broken Czech to order a delicious open sandwich, coffee and a large slice of cake which all came to under two-hundred Czech Koruna, equal roughly to under a fiver in British money, something which we were both stunned by given if the same was bought in London it would have easily been double if not triple the price and so much lacking in quality. 

Another place you need to hit up when in Prague are Brasilerio where you can have as much meat as you can handle and an unlimited salad and other specials bar. Very similar to the steak all-you-can-eat buffet Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had with the rest of her family and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Las Vegas you use your coaster to show green in order to tell the meat-staff and servers when you are ready for the BBQ goodness or switch it over to red when you just want to tap-out for a little bit. Regardless of the hefty price tag (well only hefty in comparison to the other eateries we visited which came in well under the four-hundred Czech Koruna I was expecting to spend each night) I still think that for the price it was certainly worth it and would certainly encourage you to visit if here. 

My only let downs about Prague as a whole I feel (apart from going home tomorrow) is that the majority of the city, its sights, tastes, smells and feels could easily be done in half the time we have spent here. I would suggest if you are planning your trip that two or three days would be sufficient and if the Christmas Market is in town, maybe four but I probably wouldn't plan another city break for as long as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have come for. Whilst it has been relaxing we have done a lot of the same thing. Long lazy mornings lying in bed till noon an staying up late scrolling through news feeds have kept us occupied though and I honestly cant think of many other people I would want to spend my time exploring a European Christmas Market with that my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dee. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Reuniting of Sorts!

Heyyy, 

So following the optimism of last week's fresh adventure, again the subject of buying house is at the forefront of my mind and it would appear that there is nothing to help me get there any quicker than just saving alone. Unfortunately for me, no one rich is dying in my family and I don't think I have any wealthy relatives that are willing to lend me the cash-ola for my first home. Suffice to say that I think it's time I suck it up and just open up a help-to-buy-ISA and look forward to the next seven-years of nothingness in my life. Anyway enough with being morbid about home-ownership, I have had a laugh with some old work colleagues and some even older friends. 

Working hard at my small desk in the new offices, I received a text message from one of my old work colleagues, Mr. Eagle. It was a simplistic message, stating that my old work colleagues were planning a night out in town on that Friday and I was the honorary member. Delighted that somebody had finally asked me out for a proper messy night out on the town I jumped at the chance, returning the message as soon as it hit my inbox that I most certainly would be there. Speaking to my beloved Mr. Warehouse that evening, he was already doing some overtime early on the Saturday morning so would probably give it a miss. But if I know my boyfriend I knew that he would make sure he at least came out for one drink in order to show face and tell the lad's I used to work with to watch themselves and more-so to watch out for me. 

As Friday night rolled round, more than excited to get my glad-rags on and see some familiar and well missed faces. Walking into one of the many pubs along the Bedford High Street I was suddenly nervous and excited all at the same time. Only a small group of lads, mostly from the warehouse but it didn't matter for tonight was mine for the taking and as I got the round in Mr. Eagle and I caught up on the office gossip and what had been happening since I left. But as the night wore on I could tell that Mr. Warehouse was ready for bed as he and I both knew he had a very early start. 

Bidding us a farewell, the boyfriend departed and we headed to the next bar along. By this point in the evening, I am almost certain that I am more than a little bit tipsy but I am loving every moment of it. Since learning to drive and getting my blessed Vivian I have always been the designated driver, rarely opting to get a cab to any social event. So this was certainly my time to get down and dirty on the dance floor whilst getting completely off my nut. And the best thing about it was that I was doing it with all of my favourite people in the whole wide world, well nearly?!

Leaving the club I don't quite remember what happened next, all I do remember is that we went to Subway. I ordered a foot-long sub and proceeded to the taxi rank. Sweet as my old work colleagues dropped me off back home and make sure that I was in through the door before heading back to their own homes themselves. I remember the bedroom light being on as it normally is when I go out on the town without my Mr. Warehouse. Slowly and quietly as possible I made it to the bathroom, where I had apparently stripped off and fallen asleep on the loo. Classy 'eh?! The next thing I know the lights are switched on and I felt as though I was in heaven it was that bright, but then came a familiar voice and it didn't seem to be too pleased with me. It was Mr. Warehouse and he had found me in a very compromised state of affairs. 

With a raised voice he asked me what I was doing to which I can only assume I slurred my response. After taking my remaining six-inch subway from me (which I have since been told I was clinging onto whilst asleep), cleaning up my mess, my long-suffering Mr. Warehouse got me up and put me to bed. Several hours later I awoke to the sunshine through the blinds, piercing into my life revealing the devastation that was the night before. With the help of the dog, who had now joined me in bed for a Saturday morning snooze, I got up and dressed myself in all boyfriend attire compromising of boy boxers, tracksuit bottoms and a over-sized tee, all staples for a morning after. Curling up on the sofa with pooch I sipped on my coffee and revelled in the fact that I had found my leftover Subway. 

It wasn't long before I had Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb calling me wanting to know all the Gorey details of my messy night out with the lads from (ex) work. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was coming back up home for the weekend from Hampshire so we had planned to meet up and do something. We planned to meet at a local pottery place where you could invoke your creativity into some work of art on the side of a china piggy bank. Good for the soul and good for a hangover - Not that I was suffering at all really. As I sat their painting my Minnie Mouse themed piggy back I pondered across the fact that only twelve-hours previous I had been staggering up that very same High Street singing and laughing all the way and having drank copious amounts of alcohol I should have been in a much worse state than I was. 

Placing our pigs and other ware's into the Kiln trays I promised to collect them in a weeks time when they had been baked and glazed. Heading out to dinner that evening I was excited for my besties to try some of what Bedford had to offer in terms of culinary delights. Mr. Warehouse and I took them to Meat Cure on the High Street (as if I didn't get enough of it the night before). The newly opened burger house had been open since maybe last summer and the menu had grown massively since then, offering more than just the six or seven burgers initially menued. Now you could dine on steak, salad, chicken and burgers all with yummy sides and extras. Tucking in we forgot slightly to leave room for pudding as we headed to a new dessert place called Dessert Island where you could drool over very reasonably priced desserts with anything from cheesecake and tarts, to ice-cream, waffles, crepes, cookie dough and sundaes. 

Stuffed Mr. Warehouse and I said our goodbyes to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and promised to meet up soon for more foodie escapades. Awhh Yes! And although this weekend was slightly unplanned and a bit thrown together I enjoyed the flow and certainly will cherish some of the moments I have had, although maybe not Subway-Loo?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

No Snaccidents Please!

Hiya!

So after the week I was looking forward to the weekend,  but outside the normal confines of an nine-to-five office environment I sudden found myself craving chocolate, sweets, fast food and fizzy drinks. Over the last few months I have tried my hardest to get to the gym at least once a week and ideally twice if possible for either classes or swimming, either / or since the gym bore's my tits off. I can stand nothing worse than running for an hour or cycling ten-miles, only to not get or go anywhere. I think that's why I love classes so much. The variety and fast-paced nature of having to keep up with other fellow fit-bunnies and the fact that you are forced to look into the mirror whilst you attempt your fifteenth squat in a row. 

So far over the last few weeks I have tried several classes including BodyStep and Legs, Bums and Tums. I will be honest and say that the BodyStep was far, far too intense for one of my first classes and as a result I was in a lot of pain for some days after. Almost a week later I tried out the Legs, Bums and Tums class, similar to that one I did all those many moons ago with Miss Hackney back in my old job. It was certainly less intense and much much easier to get to grips with and keep up with the moves and jives. In the next coming weeks I plan to expand into the pool and AquaFit or AquaAerobics, maybe even a more energetic looking BodyPump class.  

The thing is, with weight anyway, is that it is so very, very easy to put on and extremely hard to get off. Fast food, sweets and chocolate in the supermarket are over-priced but with constant deals and offers that make you think that you are getting a good deal you see it as a treat, that is, until you have a Snaccident AKA When food (a snack) is consumed in an accidental, often regrettable way. This can refer to accidentally eating food of questionable quality and/or quantity. Everything has sugar and salt in it in modern days and it seems like its all backwards. Ketchup has high levels of sugar and a Donuts will have high levels of salt. 

I look at my family and I would say that direct blood relations to me would be an average or around 75% overweight or obese and several have even been classified as morbidly obese. It scares me to look at them and wonder about how long they will be around for, least how long I will be about for. I want to be different to my parents, I don't want to be the fat Momma in the playground, sitting on a bench watching from a distance. I want to be able to chase my kids about and run to get them from school and drop them off to their next activity without getting out of breath running up the steps. 

Just a short one this week but I hope that next week I will have more to tell, for the upcoming weekend is a payday and I am well overdue for a night out on the tiles and maybe even a cheeky few treats of the non food variety. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole

Good Evening,

So I start this tale back last week, Thursday evening to be precise and as it would so happen I had just bumbled in from work when I noticed the pooch had a gunky eye, closed and sore looking. She had not been well for some days, not eating properly, if at all that was and a complete loss of interest in us as owners and the other things she used to love and enjoy. Mr. Warehouse and I wondered if it was something more serious. And so bundling her into my Ford Fiesta we raced her round to the Vets.

Looking over her the lovely Russian lady took swabs of her eyes and also quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits over the last few days and weeks. Mr. Warehouse proceeded to tell her that she had been prescribed some medicine for a water infection a couple of weeks ago and it had seemed to clear it up but she had done a little accident two days earlier, which he put down to just being excited, although I and the Vet disagreed.

Holding our pup down to get more swaps and examinations from ears, mouth and bottom we started to get worried when we explained she had not eaten for some time. I explained that since she was originally owned by the Brother of Mr. Warehouse, she had not been spayed. This information seemed to turn the Vet white with anxiety. Then come a wave of odd questions that were all answered pretty much with a yes from both myself and Mr. Warehouse. The Veterinarian seemed very concerned and asked our permission to take bloods to see her vitals and how good she was doing internally. I asked the question about what could be wrong with our darling pooch and how if anything can make it better.

"She has what is called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait a few weeks for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her." Said the Vet.

Shaking I asked about what we can do and what as owners our options were. She talked through the various routes we had out of this mess but ultimately the cost was not in the ten's anymore, nor even the hundreds but at least a thousand pounds or more to treat an otherwise very simply prevented illness. I couldn't take it. My rage filling up inside that this was what we had to deal with because of someone else's negligence. It became too much and I started to tremble. The Veterinarian took some more swabs from doggies undercarriage and said that since there is not leakage that Mr. Warehouse and I had to prepare for the worst.

Going away to talk we left our sickly pup in the hands of what would have appeared to be a very, very good Pet Doctor. And no-one had kept her up to date on her vaccinations as a puppy and as an adult dog, her insurance had been invalidated years ago. Without it we were left in a very desperate situation. Pulling out of the Surgery I trundled down the road, slow and steady with tears filling my eyes. As I stopped in a lay-by on a residential street I switched off the engine as Mr. Warehouse croaked, asking why we had stopped here.

"We have a lot to talk about" I said, hoping that magically we would find the money or a solution would come to us in the darkness, only lit by street lamps. Watching the cars windows steam with little talk and more silent tears, all I could see were dog walkers. We were one of them. We still are one of them. And we need to find a way to fix her. She is our dog and Mr. Warehouse and I need to be strong for her because for every moment we have had a shitty day or been poorly or unhappy she has been there for us. Not just that but we have got so many things left to do together. We still have yet to run on the sandy beaches of Newquay, Hop on a ferry for a holiday in Jersey where we can bask in the sunshine, just meters from french soil and even for her to maybe host in some of life's biggest moments Mr. Warehouse and I will share.

I have never personally owned a dog before and I would like to say that being a part of her life has and will continue to be a pleasure. She has taught me things about life and myself I never knew before and I keep learning, through my little lab, that there are the little things in life that should be noticed and appreciated and cherished within and with others. Yes, we may not be the best dog owners as both Mr. Warehouse and I go out to work five days a week, but that is reality and I will be honest, I think she enjoys having her own time to herself, not being told off for being on the wrong side of the sofa or for licking her biscuit (AKA Fanny). We treat her very well indeed and give her all the love and attention a pooch could ask for. 

The next few hours and days were a blur until Saturday when Mr. Warehouse and I were accepted for a loan at the bank. Walking out of that room with a smile on our faces not only meant that we had secured Mr. Warehouse's debt and credit cards, but also that we could save our dogs life and in a way ours. She is still on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication, but hopefully she will be on the mend soon enough. Her eye is now fully restored and whilst she is still not eating proper dog food, her appetite I think is very slowly, slowly creeping back in to view. I certainly think that the most recent activities in our little household will almost certainly make for a more romantic and loving break away to the Peak District and a time to reflect on what we have and how long for ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Size Does Matter!

Hello one and all, 

Standing in front of my wardrobe I looked back at myself. I was fat. I mean saying this now sounds like nothing new to me, I have always been a larger lady, even in my teens and during my school years I was always bigger than other girls, but as I graduated High School and things in my life started to take a downward turn my diet was one of the last things on my mind. Living with my Uncle and Auntie for a while was easy, as was living with my dad and even Mr. Workaholic and his Dad. Everything pretty much was cooked and dished out to me, all I had to do was eat it. I would walk most if not everywhere and totted up a good few miles everyday by simply getting to and from work, college and socialising. 

But when I moved up to Northampton in order to start my new life with Mr. Workaholic I ballooned to my biggest weight so far. At over nineteen stone and a size twenty/twenty-two I was far from happy, at least in my body. Living off of beige food groups and turkey dinosaurs was not ideal either and since Mr. Workaholic refused to eat any sort of vegetable and saw bananas as the only fruit he would stomach (What a surprise that they were also beige in colour) it was very difficult to cook for someone so fussy. Towards the end of my relationship with Mr. Workaholic's things started to get mean and nasty and I suppose if I was really honest it would have been not that long after we moved to Northampton. The name calling and lack of compliments drove me from being a confident and cocky tween to a shy and anxious girl, always worried about her weight and that one day her boyfriend would feel repulsed enough by her that he would leave. And one day he did. I mean granted he didn't leave on the basis that I was larger than when we first met but I could tell that he had not felt attracted to me in sometime, or at least that is how it felt. 

Separating from Mr. Workaholic was hellish and a time that I can rarely recall anything happening at all, but I do remember my weekly meetings at WeightWatchers and how shocked the lady was when I made yet another big loss on the scales. When I was asked what my secret was or how I had lost all the weight I joked with my fellow fat fighters that in a dark way when the love of your life just up's and leaves you with no real reason or explanation, leaving behind just a whole lot of heartache and mess to clear up it soon puts you off food. And just as I started consuming more than caffeine and water on a daily basis I was hit with another bomb shell. Mr. Workaholic was seeing someone else, and it had been less than a fortnight. Not only that but whilst I was recovering from shock in Southern Ireland with my Aunt and Uncle, Mr. Workaholic was swanning round Newcastle, jumping from bed to bed I heard. 

After my weight plummeted to nearly what I was before I met Mr. Workaholic, I started feeling better about myself. I had new love interests, a new outlook on life and I was twenty-one. The perfect mix of young and throwaway yet knowing what I was doing. The next few years I fluctuated but always stayed around the fifteen stone mark, always being able to comfortably fit into a size fourteen/sixteen. But as the years went by and I finally got my very own flat in Bedford I got into bad habits and poor diet choices, although still walking most places I would always keep the belly off a little. 

Since meeting Mr. Warehouse though and especially over the last year since we moved in together I have only felt and seen my size increase. I can now only dream of fitting into a size eighteen let alone a size fourteen or sixteen. I am now so unhappy with my weight that I honestly need to start doing something about it. My clothes don't fit properly and I have a wardrobe full of lovely jumpers, jeans and tops that I just look like a sack of potatoes in. My arms are too fat and my belly is protruding more than my tits at present. Although I joke about it with friends and family, it starts to become a real concern when the arms of your office chair start to get tighter and tighter. 

So after I get paid on Wednesday (Thank fuck, it seems like an age since I last got paid) I will be hitting the classes hard. Sod Gyms and their expensive memberships, I am going to start getting into classes and swimming. FitSteps, Zumba, Clubbercise and Aquarobics; I'm trying them all! Healthy eating too, I have started thinking even before I go shopping now what sort of food will be better for me and for my darling Mr. Warehouse. More Veg, more moving and less beige. Before I know it I will be looking better than I ever have before and feel much more happier that I don't have to shop only in the plus size range. Besides, I can't be looking like a blob on the beach with Mr. Warehouse in August can I ... ?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx