Work Is Called Work Because It Is Hard

Hello There You,

So as I continued my working day as normal on Thursday of last week, all in the knowledge that my dear Mr. Warehouse was out at work in his new role within a brewery, I revelled in the possibility that we could soon be living a life better than we were with more holidays, a car for me and less money worries than we needed. However as I finished off the final bit of security clearance I had been working on the phone rang. I answered to a voice that was tearful and trembling. It was my boyfriend. I knew what had happened even before I asked and yet I still allowed myself to ask what was wrong. 

"I quit my job" a tear-cracking voice croaked from the other end of the line. As I went to offer word of support I questioned what I would even say. Anger, disappointment and upset pulsating through my body I needed to put all them emotions and more aside for Mr. Warehouse needed my support right now and not my criticism. I tried to offer some empathetic words of advice and wisdom in a moment of utter despair. I knew nothing would go in as I had been in that position myself, many a time before. But what worried me the most is that I always found a way to bounce back from a bad situation and turn it into an advantage by looking and successfully gaining employment very quickly. I just hoped that it would rub off onto my other half and that I wouldn't have to look into alternative living arrangements for him also. 

Not that of course I would ever have wanted to but reluctantly, I gave Mr. Warehouse the ultimatum that he had before I fly out to Ireland to look after my Aunt and Uncles Country Farmhouse on Friday morning, he had to find a job and ideally be already working by the Thursday evening. As harsh as it sounds - He had a week. I mean I would have given him two if it was not for me going away but his reckless and quite frankly rather selfish decision was an added and unnecessary stress on our relationship, not to mention the impact it has had on our wallets. I still stand by my "Ultimatum" that it was not a harsh one, for I cannot, and will not, struggle for someone who does not consider others situations and circumstances before themselves. Desperate, I tried to hear my beloved boyfriend's points of the job being strenuous, straining on muscles and stifling in the heat of a stuffy warehouse with little or no wind to clear the stale air, but a little part of me knew that this was simply a shock to the system. Rightly or wrongly, probably more so the latter, in recent years Mr. Warehouse was seldom breaking into a sweat on where he used to work with me and my colleagues. The fact that he was now loading and unloading pallets full with crates of beer, ales and other bottles of alcohol was hard and laborious in comparison to his previous roles. In a way I felt sorry for him, but in others I wished he would have stuck it out in a bid to see if it gets better and what the alternative shift may hold. But alas my intrinsic advice falls onto deaf ears again.

For the rest of the day I seemed to mope. Not by choice or conscience doing, just simply bumbling through the rest of the day wondering how it would be possible to support our little household on the extremely modest wage I was earning. Bills, Rent and the likes were nearly nine-hundred-pounds, and with Mr. Warehouse's outgoings and bills on top it made my entire wage packet disappear before you could even say 'Jobseekers Allowance'. Not only would I loose absolutely every last piece of my already mediocre social life, I would also miss out on vital driving lessons and learning potential therefore knocking my test back even further than needed. I wouldn't be able to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her new job and life in the Berkshire countryside west of London. I'd have to stop all my plans for holidays to European Christmas Markets and spontaneous weekends away. All in all I would be sacrificing my evenings, potentially working two jobs, just to support myself and Mr. Warehouse as well as the dog who also needs feeding. 

After talking with Mr. Warehouse his options and explaining to him that whilst I will always try my up most to support him in every which way he needed me and wanted me to, both financially and emotionally I would try and put my feelings of anger and hurt aside to cater for him and his needs first. Although this is of course very hard when you feel wronged in a way that you have offered an olive branch in good faith it should never have to be taken and then it is taken as an easy option out of a mildly bad situation. I would have hoped, knowing how much he disliked the job from the outset, that Mr. Warehouse would have at least tried to stick it out for a little longer, continuing in the job search whilst spending his afternoons humping and lumping Amstel crates around. 

Nevertheless I cannot complain too much for after a productive Friday afternoon calling round employment agencies, emailing CV's and a few cheeky hours on the Xbox whilst I was still at work, Mr. Warehouse has found himself a job. Although whilst this is temporary, with the potential of it and other jobs coming up more permanent and with better pay the future is looking optimistic in comparison to last week, but until I feel my shoulders relax again as a result of the added income, I will continue to feel the financial burden of keeping us all from drowning. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Silly Head and A Silly Phone Call ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Evening Everybody, 

So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice. 

"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there. 

One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again. 

Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese! 

Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship! 

By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'! 

Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but 

Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment. 

I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Confessions of a Lustful Job Hunter!

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Morning All, 

And so my first week of unemployment has melted away before I even have a chance to understand fully what I am actually going to do with myself. Grateful for the understanding nature of friends and some family this week I have been well supported with my job search. Although I thought that after loosing my job would be the worst thing in the history of the universe I have actually been surprised with the amount of feedback and the successfulness in finding work if you want it. 

Following a telephone interview with a well-know camera manufacturer I bagged a 'real' interview at their Bedford HQ on Wednesday morning. Running slightly behind schedule I made it in time to meet the ladies who walked me through my interview and also the women whom I chatted on the phone to as well. The role itself was pretty simplistic and I wasn't wholly thrilled by the fact that it would only be until the end of this year covering maternity leave, but with a two-thousand-pound bonus at the end of the contract and the possibility of being taken on permanently, I didn't really have ground to complain. Thus don't start asking me for a discount on lenses and filming equipment just yet as I unfortunately didn't make the cut for the second stage interviews and so the ideal of working within a company that made the selfie that much easier was dashed. 

Wednesday also held for me much more good news as after I had finished my hour-long interview with my first potential employer I attended another interview at a Fire Safety establishment in a industrial park just outside the town centre. Arriving to the premises after getting slightly lost I was ready to shine. And that I did. After another hour-long interview which felt more like a lengthy and fun chat about credit control I was let loose back onto the streets of Bedford to hunt down that all elusive job with a healthy salary and good atmosphere to match. Luckily for me the gentleman that interviewed me on Wednesday at the Fire Safety place wants me back along with another lady to go head to head in the second stage interviews this Thursday. Wish me luck!

I wasn't finished at just two interviews Wednesday as I had to attend a meeting at the local hell hole - The Job Centre. walking into the meeting I was ushered over to what looks like a pimped up 18th century school class room with chairs that had easels attached for writing down important stuff. As this wasn't the first time I signed on I wasn't expecting what happened, which was essentially a group lecture on job searching and about claiming off the state. Brilliant! As if every one of us in the room needed another punch in the stomach to wind us of all self-worth and motivation. Thanks coalition government!

Still not having eaten I headed to the train station and boarded a train to St. Albans, a city in which I hold much favour. It was one of the first places I had come as a young adult on a shopping trip with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and subsequently visited with Mr. Workaholic but obviously not for anything other than seeing work colleagues and finding out which one of them had recently been struck off work for dealing in cocaine. Nevertheless, exhausted as I was I multi-tasked by walking swiftly to the agency office in the town centre whilst conducting another telephone interview with another agency based back home in Luton. I know right, how skilled I am!

Thursday was much the same as Tuesday whereby I used the time I would usually be at work slaving over spreadsheets and paperwork scouring the web for the next best positions in my area. Following my Job Centre lecture I learnt that there was truth in what I had always told people and that the majority of jobs are now posted online. In fact the figures we were given as in-between-jobbers was that over seventy percent of jobs are now never even posted on the net, employers preferring to source potential candidates themselves or in my instance just add the workload to the employees already busting their ball-sacks working as hard as they can. Companies would favour 'Twitter' rather than going through and agency or website and paying fees for such services that they could easily get for nothing via social media. 

The week was rounded off with another interview with a flooring company in which they loved me so much they invited me back today for a tour of the office space and warehouse as well as to meet the team. A lovely bunch and I must have done something right being the first person that they saw at 10:30am on a Friday morning and wanting me back in their offices Monday afternoon. The vibe I get is that they are eager for me to join as am I although I wonder if maybe I can hold out on giving them a definitive answer by the end of the week as I would like to see where the rest of my interviews this week get to. I have five lined up for the days ahead. That, coupled with the eight I had last week means that in every sense on the phrase I am getting their. I would say slowly but surely but everything had sped along so fast this week I haven't even had a chance to think about being out of work. 

It wasn't all hard work though as Wednesday evening was spent with my favourite girls; Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Stuu. Yet again our conversation turned round to the topic of sex, boys and relationships. Most topics of conversation were covered I feel, making us more aware that yes, every female in the land has experienced the compression of air in the Southern Hemisphere whilst being in the presence of a naked man. Yes, the aptly named 'Fanny Fart'. Gross as it may sound these are things that ladies speak of. In fact the conversation didn't stop their as talk soon turned to the ''apparently'' best bit about pleasure. The Orgasm. Now I myself am able to come and whatever is happening down their feels amazing when done right but I don't think I have ever experienced 'The Big O'! I mean what is it? Where does it come from? And most importantly how the hell can I get one?! You see I am not one for self-pleasure or masturbation as such and despite my abundance of toys I am still unable to get myself off. Its not that I don't know what I like because I do, god knows I tell the men that have come in and out (Don't laugh) of my my life what I like and don't like but I am just not able to do it myself. Maybe its the fact that I know what is coming (Naughty) or whether I prefer someone else's touch even if it isn't quite hitting the right spot. 

I am a difficult one I feel; easy to please when you know how to but somewhat unrelenting in my appetite lately. I feel sorry for Mr. Cheese sometimes for having to put up with my thirst for bedroom exercise. Sex is something that for me makes all my problems go away. Not to say that I am an addict or anything but that is my go to when I feel lonely or stressed or sad or loving or angry, anything. I'll give you an example. Last weekend I saw Mr. Cheese himself and after a lovely meal we settled in front of the box for a bit before bed. Getting up from the couch I whispered in my boyfriend's ear seductively to come meet me in the bedroom in five minutes. After leaving a salivating other-half on the sofa to stew I flung my clothes on the floor and dressed myself in nothing more than a football shirt and suspender stockings. Laying myself bare on the bed I lit some candles and set the mood for a night of lustful intentions. Entering the boudoir I hoped for the passion to be ignited. Unfortunately after what felt like an eternity of teasingly fantastic foreplay and being thoroughly ready for some action I was informed that despite my effort, enthusiasm, suspenders, stockings, football shirt and lack of a bra the Boyfriend just wasn't interested. Shocked and stunned by what I was hearing the lights went on, teeth were brushed and I was forced to accept that I wouldn't be getting laid. Feeling deflated, unattractive, anti-sexy and questioning everything about us I fell asleep. The excuse that Mr. Cheese was tired were justifiable but nevertheless nearly every man on the planet has that as a fantasy and by his own admission had said it was one of his quoting that I should do it when his flat mates were out so as not to make too much noise. 

But on the other end of the spectrum I seriously worry about my being and whether I am normal. Is it normal for a women to have such a high sex drive? I don't know? It has always been a happy medium of sex-initiation's prior to Mr. Cheese but I feel now sometimes that he only obliges to my panders because he wants to appease me rather than him also wanting to partake. I am usually quite a relaxed person generally but lately I have been feeling more tense and stressed almost on a daily basis. The last time I felt like this I was with Mr. Workaholic and it was just a simple case of getting naked for him and that was it I would be pounded within an inch of my life only to then fall asleep blissfully unaware of the train-wreck it would eventually end in. Sadly with a Boyfriend in London it seems my stresses shall have to wait. It is at time like these where I feel my back tighten and my body ache a little that I know I need a really good seeing too, someone to come and ruin me. Don't get me wrong I love when its slow and rhythmic with an intense build up knowing that I will hit peak soon although sadly it ends with the man finishing too early. But Hey I can't blame him it does blow your mind when it is at the same pace, slow and steady. I think maybe I need to experiment more with myself. 

So off I hop to dust off my rabbits and get my rocks off - Just in time for Easter!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Laid Off and Fighting Back!

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Heyy Everyone, 

So after the last couple of weeks being an emotional roller coaster and with disagreements surrounding my blogg content regarding my relationship with my mother and generally my family values life has not got much better. Yet again I am back at square uno and in the same situation I find myself all the damn time. I am, yet again, unemployed. 

This happened on Friday and was a culmination of many weeks slaving through overtime including ridiculously early mornings and tiring late evenings at work putting in the hours just to try and attempt to make a difference in my work load which was all in vain as when your part of what is meant to be a four or five person team running on two maybe three people you can imagine the stress and strain it caused. And so after ten-weeks in the new job role as Credit Control Administrator I was formerly considered unable to cope with the amount of pressure put on me as a team member and cleared my desk swiftly saying goodbye to work colleagues that I had come to love and admire. Safe to say I shall miss working there a little bit however there are some things (and some people) that I shall not miss. 

All in all whilst I sit here by my window in my little flat I am panicking. I have less than enough money in my bank account, I have bills coming out my arse left, right and centre and to top it all off the rent is due in less that three weeks. I am slowly slipping into my overdraft and have very little food in my kitchen to sustain me for much longer. I have no savings and spent all my driving lesson money on moving into my new abode of which not a penny of it has been put back. I think I am starting to get very, very concerned about my life now and how I shall manage on what a menial allowance the government in the UK pays people with no jobs. 

However I do not plan on investing in tracksuit bottoms just yet as I have had a rather proactive Monday whereby I have sought advice from the CAB (Citizens Advice Bureau) as well as the local council and have obtained a stack of paperwork to fill in and return first thing tomorrow morning. On Friday evening I was able to bag myself a telephone interview with a large company based and conducted myself so well this morning over the phone that they have offered me a second interview at their offices just outside Bedford. I have also been put through for a handful of other positions ranging from admin and Secretary work right down to good old customer service. I would love to go back to doing credit control and have stipulated that to the agencies in the town; But at this very moment I cannot be choosy as to where my next pay-cheque comes from. 

Other than that life has not been easy over the past few days although that wonderful Mr. Cheese of mine has been able to make life a little more bearable with his company. I thought that when it comes down to situations like this that I am quite an optimistic person, always seeing the silver lining in things and making the best out of a situation. But Mr. Cheese on the other hand brings a whole new meaning to looking up - No pun intended! Naughty! After chatting to him on Friday night, I dreaded even telling him thinking that he would no longer want to be my boyfriend because of my change in circumstance. I thought to myself as I rang his number for the fifth time that evening forcing myself not to hang up for lack of words, that somehow it would be much easier to just tell him that I no longer wanted to be with him any more. Yes. I know it sounds stupid because I'm more crazy about him than I am about Starbucks (and I fucking love Starbucks) but somewhere in my head it equates that I wouldn't want to date someone unemployed, so why would anyone want to date me with no job. I know. Silly really! Mr. Cheese's optimism shone through when he mentioned that the weekend is the weekend and that logically speaking I'm not classed as unemployed until Monday morning, which is a nice way to look at it, but it didn't stop my stomach from flipping the entire weekend knowing that bills still have to be paid and rent will become due soon. 

Life for the young people of Britain is hard. I'm not going to lie I hate being here again. Unemployed, Unwanted and Undervalued. It seems that the culture nower days is simply that employees, in particularly those under thirty are just too disposable. Even when you get a job its hard as employers know that if you don't want it that there are hundreds of people lined up behind you that are waiting for you to slip up. The benefits system in England is something I believe is a good thing and is there for people in desperate times to make ends meat and pay for things to help the survive. It is something manageable, not livable. Social security is not something I want to be on and I would like to think that the majority of people I plan to see at the Job Centre over the next week will be in the same boat as me. But all too often you see the iconic characters including velour track-suited mom's pushing a pram with a screaming child whilst two other tag along behind, the alcoholics and drug abusers whom with the money the government has just given them will go straight towards the tills of the nearest seven-eleven and the thugs that hang around in groups only to intimidate and scare those in society that should be respected and honoured. Yes. It is these people that I loath as I am sure many of you do. Why? Because unlike myself and other hard working individuals who have found themselves out of work, these people have no intention of getting a job instead claiming that they are unable to work due to health reasons, child care or some other phantom excuse. 

The Job Centre itself is about as much help as a chocolate teapot. Whilst the job-seekers loitering around the entrances of the lurid green institutes and you take your first steps inside what is meant to be a place of helpful information and advice you feel every little shred of joy you had left in your sole sucked out, turning you as grey and defeated as the cigarette ash coating the pavements outside. As studies have already proven the Job Centre is a failure in its own right. Jobs are rarely updated when filled, staff are unhelpful and the processes are complicated and confusing even for the best of people. Their job is to find you a job but seldom does that ever happened. Usually you are pointed in the direction of a website or machine that you can look at vacancies in the local area and towards information you could have picked up using Google. 

Whilst I have gone off on a slight tangent I do hope that with all this in mind I shall not be out of work for very long. Actually scratch that. You know what I know I wont be out of work for very long. I can do this. I can beat this and make something better for myself that sitting on the sofa eating CoCo Pops at 9am watching Jeremy Kyle and his guests battle it out for a DNA test. Seriously though! No. I plan to get up and fight this with everything I've got. I will make this better and have a job where I am appreciated and rewarded for my hard work. Fuck you life! I'm biting back - Rawr!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Not A Cloud In The Sky

Hello everyone, 

So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...

After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor. 

After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women. 

The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self. 

Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought. 

The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?

I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though,  for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time. 

I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.

All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sister's Before Mister's

Heyy Guys,

And yet another roller coaster of a week draws to a close. And yet after all that, I have been able to bounce back faster than you could say 'windscreen'. I have a new job. Again. But not just that. If you look as to where this was written you can see that it was signed, sealed and delivered from my new bachelorette pad. I am so happy that it has finally got to this point and have been so busy unpacking and sorting everything out that I nearly forgot to write. Allow me to explain my week ...

So after being a bit down in the dumps about having to quit my last job just purely on the distance I thought that my dream of finally moving in was slipping through my fingers again. Then late Wednesday afternoon I went into some local recruitment agencies and spoke to them, only to walk out of one of their offices having landed a customer service role at a windscreen replacement company just outside of Bedford town centre. Now granted it is only a temporary contract for a couple of months and so is nothing permanent by a long shot, but there is always the chance they could take me on permanently. Hopefully they will so I can stop searching for job's as it is driving me crazy just looking at pages and pages of jobs that have probably been advertised for weeks and have possibly already been filled. If not then there is always something on offer. And I do have a habit of bouncing back fast ... As I am sure you are well aware!

As for my new flat well that was a bit of a surprise. Since my Dad and his girlfriend are too hung up on their own lives and personal hobbies to help me move out (despite wanting me to move out since last year and not wholly loving the fact I was living with them in the first place) I decided to get my Uncle to help move me. And so on Saturday (the only date my Uncle could do to move me) we bundled up all my belongings in his work's van and headed to my new home! Packing and unpacking was a mission and a half though, and I don't think many people will be visiting often due to the fact it has no lifts and I'm on the third floor up four flights of stairs. I like it though. It's cosy and once I get everything sorted out properly then it will be perfect!

No word of warning on the old 'Luuurve' front yet, but I have continued online dating and am enjoying the attention from prospective males; even if they are fat, balding and are sitting at a computer having a lonely handshake with ones self. OK, well maybe not that extreme, but I love the idea that I could one day be talking to someone that will play an extra special part in my life. I haven't met any yet. Although I do plan to have a date with a very nice young man whom enjoys the company of quirky girls who enjoy laughing and chatting about nonsense but also have a fondness for dairy products, cheese included. We both seem to have hit it off pretty well and I enjoy talking to him so much so that we have arranged a 'Date' for this coming Sunday! Eeek! Scary date! I mean it's not like I am terrified of the idea. Its just scary meeting someone that theoretically you know a little of and that you have spoken online to, but it is another to meet in person and spend time together outside of cyberspace. I think that maybe this is just first-timer's nerves (Naughty!), what with being the first time I have met someone from an online dating site in the flesh - It's bound to be nerve shredding. I wonder what I shall wear? Hmmm ...

In other news, I have a big weekend planned. Along with my date on Sunday with the guy I met online, I am celebrating moving in with my good pal Miss Chocolate on Friday night and then following that up with something special for Saturday's twilight hours. I have heard that this Saturday, there will be a new show in the city of London. Starring yours truly. Ha ha. The dating show I was on a couple of months ago are having the Wrap Party in the bright lights of London. Cinderella shall go to the ball - Along with her trusty partner in crime; Miss Tweedle-Dumb!

I am looking forward to it and I know it's going to be a fun night out. Bit worried though, the last time I went on a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I met a boy whom we all know as that prick. Mr Workaholic! Then again, it might not all be bad. Miss Tweedle-Dumb could be my lucky charm in finding love. I could meet a sweetheart from across the bar and we would fall in love instantly with each other. He would worship me as a fat kid worships cake and we would get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Or I could be the last hope in hell of that sweaty nerd getting laid, lurking over there in the corner of a dark, smokey club at three in the morning like a weirdo. Yep, that is probably the story of Saturday night for you. Either that or the usual happens where Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself are dropped to our hotel by a cab and end up eating chicken until we pass out from alcohol. Still Miss Tweedle-Dee is not that bad. She can be very, very funny sometimes. Both her and Miss Tweedle-Dee can be very entertaining sometimes. Besides whats that saying. Sister's before Mister's ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Week From Satan Himself ...

Afternoon All,

Some people have described me as lucky, but after this week I doubt that this would be falling out of anyone's mouth any time soon. Allow me to explain the disastrous week I have just encountered. So after last week's dinner with Miss Chocolate on Tuesday and planning some more frolicking during these long, hot summer's days I was in a positive mood, not to mention finally putting down a deposit on my new home. But then Wednesday arrived and with it some woe.

Wednesday morning was like any other. I was up dressed and ready for work, watching some daytime TV and having breakfast before making my way to the station. After arriving on platform two and now waiting for my train I began to search through my social media channels and listen to music. A normal day. Until that is I begin to notice all the people from the opposite platform start to make their way up the stairs and over the walkway. As I watched this spectacle I saw a young blonde women walk down the stairs onto my platform when I was the only one waiting for the train to Bedford. She asked me to come with her to the ticket station. Panicked I had done something wrong I asked what the matter was to which she replied calmly with 'nothing'. As I went to pick up my bag she asked that I not look behind me. Not taking much notice I hooked my satchel over my shoulder and carried my steel-framed Rayleigh up the stairs and along the walk way. Nothing prepared me for what I saw when I turned to face the uniformed man at the end of the passenger bridge. As I turned to face the man in the train provider uniform I caught a glimpse of something horrifying. A man's head. Severed from his body. Alone. On the platform I had my back to. I cant remember a face but what I can remember is a thick, dark brown mass of hair covering this man's head. The face I do not remember.

As the colour drained from my face and my stomach churned at what my eyes had just glanced over, the uniformed man had clocked what I had just seen and pushed me out of view from it. He started to explain what had just happened even though I knew, telling me what would happen and that it would take up to several hours to clean up the mess. Even as I was told to go to the ticket office it still hadn't set in that I had just seen. A man been hit by a high-speed train. Accident or suicide, no-one knows. The pieces of human spread across the tracks will remain with me forever. The dark, matted hairy head of a man I never knew. All seen on this scorching Wednesday morning.

Upon arrival to the ticket office, I and some fellow passengers was told someone would be out in a second to speak to us. Amongst swarms of police officers, cop cars, vans and motorbikes, we all stood there waiting to be told the out come of our journey's. As time went on I decided I should call work to let them know what had happened and that I may well be late in. As the dialling tone of my phone played in the background I witnessed police men in vivid yellow jackets carry a white body bag with a dark mass at the bottom. This confirmed what I had seen. And as a voice picked up on the other end of the line I started to croak. Needless to say that I was told to go home and get some rest. I never knew that something like this would affect me in such a way it would bring me to tears. A man I never met, only seconds earlier a living, breathing, human with limbs attached and blood racing through his body. And now he was no more.

After finally coming to terms with Wednesday's incidents I returned to work and was grateful when Friday arrived. Walking into work and putting my lunch in the fridge I began to feel a little more normal. It was at this point that life was spun on its head once again for me. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start I get a call. I answered. My agency. As I took the call outside the office I listened intently as they explained how despite everything - The success, the progress, the moving forward in terms of improvement; my employment was to be terminated as of that moment. Devastated I broke once more. After everything I had been told about making all the right moves, about being on track and making brilliant progress that the company had decided I was not worthy of a permanent position. Upset turned to anger quickly resulting in me lashing out at the lady on the other end of the phone. Why hadn't I been tole earlier? Why was it that after an hour-and-a-half commute into work and after walking into the office filled with embarrassed faces and sheepish looks I was to be told now? Apparently my agency was a 'bit tied up' in the morning and so had only got round to them telling me now. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start. Heartbroken my thoughts turned to my little flat. My summer of fun with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle Dumb. The Deposit I had just put down on my little nest egg and now it was all gone. After discussing it further and working myself up I realised there was no point. Whats done is done and there was nothing I could do to change that. I walked back into the office, collected my lunch and walked back out past the sheepish and sorrowful looks of the colleagues and supervisors that ultimately caused such heartache. At a later date I was to find out that my agency was in the wrong and have paid for my pseudo taxi journey home.

And so that concludes my hellish week. A week I never wish to relive. Something that I know will make me a stronger person, but also make me realise just how precious life and everything in it is. Right back at square one and starting the job hunt all over again. Only this time the stakes are higher, the past few months worth of life-savings are on the line. I wither move into my new home and scrap by with everything I have or I give it all up and keep battling through life. Hopefully things will change by the next time we speak.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Grass Might Not Always Be Greener On The Other Side

Evening All,
 
I hope you have been keeping well. I have. So, after last weeks awkwardness with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's and Miss Tweedle-Dee's work colleague, Miss Lace, I am pleased to announce that everything is as normal and we are in mutual agreement that Miss Lace's feelings are not serious. At least that's what I am being told, I still feel that there might be more than meets the eye - Watch this space!
 
This week I finished my job with the local flooring company and once I had passed all my training with my new company I took my last journey to outer Bedfordshire to say my goodbye's and collect my things from my old office. Everyone was somewhat shocked to see me go which surprised me given the fact that nothing was rarely kept quiet, especially someone leaving. Regardless they were all lovely and courteous about my departure and wished me all the best as did I. To be honest I actually felt a little sad I was leaving despite only being there less than four months. I suppose I just felt as if this would be the final in a a long string of jobs I have previously had. A small part of me felt let down recalling what Mr. Workaholic had said last time I had to encounter his massive, fat head. (See Post 'A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting') Mr. Workaholic's words still ring clear in my ears as I remember him attempting small talk in the seating area of my local bank.  Referring to the flooring company role I had recently landed at the time he scoffed 'So, are you actually planning on keeping this job then?' At the time I was so shocked and taken aback by what he had said that I simply brushed it off icily and said something like 'Of course' but secretly I was completely blown away by his arrogance and sheer uncompasionate nature, given the fact that we had sent nearly two years of highs and lows together, you would think he would be more thoughtful of what was coming out of the hole in his face. Maybe not though! However it is not this Ex that plays on my mind as much lately. Following a date night with Miss Chocolate and and old college friend, Miss Tatts,  of ours a few weeks ago my first serious boyfriend has been popping up more often than usual. As we all bumbled down the residential street towards Miss Tatts house we passed a familiar driveway. Upon closer inspection I noticed a copper haired gentleman in the driver's seat of a learner vehicle. Chills sparkled up my spine as I realised I had just seen my first love in nearly four years.
 
I suppose we all have a love boxed up inside us labelled 'The One That Got Away' and for me that was my first serious relationship with Mr. Ginge. Now, Mr. Ginge arrived on the scene shortly after I finished attending High School with Mr. Coffee and Mr. Woof; and long, long before Mr. Workaholic. We met rather conventionally though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something and with fiery red hair he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses so as to contact them outside of the study hours. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro he took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for a single, scrawled letter. Smiling and acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that he boyish pokes, jokes and hitting was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse to touch me. Men, eh?
 
On the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting via E-mail. Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had only know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. "I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock he asked me to be his girlfriend. Cockily I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me out. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard at Sixth Form avoiding each other completely and discussing what to do with friends. Finally after a whilst our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'wed' couple. Following that happy moment came more than a years worth of terrible times in my life, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more low's than high's and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him.
 
However all was not well in paradise and after transferring to College in mid-September we hit a rough patch. Mr. Ginge and I went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other once a week and it took its toll. After a while I wondered weather this was it. Was Mr. Ginge 'The One'? Was he the man I was destine to grow old with and start a family? Was this all life had to offer? After a year and a month I called an end to mine and Mr. Ginge's relationship. He was devastated and completely at a loss with heart-break. Ironically I was to undergo the exact same treatment less than three years later with Mr. Workaholic. Like me I never fully explained myself before calling it off and like Mr. Workaholic, wanted to see if there was more to life than just that. Sadly I think that that initial first experience with Mr. Ginge made my separation from Mr. Workaholic all the more harder. I knew that this was something that Mr. Workaholic had to do in order to live life in a way that would not have been possible given our relationship, but ultimately that decision is one I hope he both regrets and looks back on as I do with my relationship with Mr. Ginge.
 
A part of me wonders weather Mr. Ginge thinks about me as I think about him. Does he wonder what I am doing? Does he think about what I do? Does he reflect on the memories we shared? I do. I sometimes contemplate what life would be like now if we had stayed together. Would we have moved away together to university? And would we have built the foundations of life yet? All these things I shall never know. So maybe I learnt the heard way that the grass might not always be greener on the other side ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Termination And A Flirtation ...

Hi,

Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.

After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.

Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.

As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.

What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.

If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx