And so as my problematic complaint against my energy company, British Gas (See last weeks post - 'An Electrifying Discovery'), bubbles away in the background I pack my bags and forget all about it as this weekend was time for a wedding! NO! No, not mine! Haha Phew, no! A relative of Mr. Warehouse's was to be married this weekend and as a result I had been invited for a right old family knees up with my other half and his crazy, crazy family.
So after searching for nearly two months for a dress I had finally found one, just not in my size. I ordered a UK size 16 - Too small. I ordered a UK size 18 in a different colour - Still too small. I order four sizes too big for my just so I can get the right colour and low and behold it fits. Horrified that I could comfortable fit in such a size I have promised myself that I shall start my new diet and routine on the 1st of June, once all the festivities of May are over, wouldn't want to deprive myself now would I?! Besides, despite our differences the girls and I are finally off on holiday - Yes again, but this time I have got my wish. I am off to the party party island of KAVOS!!! Unfortunately though we have booked outside of season but rest assured where I and my Tweedles go there is always a party to be had, even if it does involve playing innuendo bingo on the balcony and having sun-cream squirt fights. Anyway back to the wedding ...
Friday morning and the post arrives. I am anxious to see my delivery. Two dresses have turned up and as a precaution I take both with me to the hotel, just in case. Leaving work I was ready and excited to go on a mini-break/exciting weekend away with Mr. Warehouse as well as heating up the dance-floor with some good old Macarena and Cha Cha Slide! However I did not take into account the fact that neither of those songs were invented in the days whilst the happy couple were growing up and so there was Jives and Jigs the whole night through.
On arriving to the hotel and checking in I had the horror of realising I left one of the most important things behind - My straighteners/curlers. Enquiring at reception as to if there were any spare pairs that had been left by another guest or where I would be able to buy myself a second pair seemed futile, until that is he picked up that gorgeous little telephone of his and rang around some old Crimpers! Finding one that was free and not too expensive either he made an appointment for her to come to mine and Mr. Warehouse's suite. Thanking the man profusely we made our way to our junior suite, rushing up the stairs and into our very own apartment for the weekend. Complete with folded toilet paper, biscuits and sparkling water we were in our element exploring the rooms and squealing when we found something new. As things became heated though and passion ripped through the Redlodge Junior Suite of the Oliver Cromwell Hotel in March, Cambridgeshire, we decided to take a dip in the pool.
Naughtiness did not avoid us there either and as I beckoned Mr. Warehouse to sneak into my changing room he declined, opting for his own instead. A cool swimming pool, sweaty steam room and sweltering sauna awaited us as we entered but there was only one thing I wanted to do and despite numerous attempts in begging, Mr. Warehouse never did allow me to see how long I could hold my breath for in the hot tub. Far too excited to be in public and in need of a banging Chinese take-out we went back to our room, but not before I attempted another changing room kidnapping. Chinese ordered we settled in for a night in front of the TV and finally hit the sheets, only to be woken several time throughout the night by what looked like a rather rowdy and shoddy attempt and an incognito drugs deal.
Saturday morning and alarms ringing Mr. Warehouse and I rolled over and both took one look at each other. After a night of not sleeping well, shouting from outside and heat from the rooms thermostat we were lagging already. prising ourselves from the bedsheets we assembled ourselves together. With my make-up done, eyelashes on, hairdresser been and gone and breakfast finished all we had to do was slip on our outfits and head out to the Taxi-Cab waiting in reception. Pulling up to the front of the registry office I questioned my beliefs in having a wedding inside any venue other than a church, despite being sceptical about religion. The house looked beautiful from the outside, Wisteria billowing down the walls of the old Victorian house looking over the River Nene. Pretty indoors as it was outside, we took our seats in the Library clad in sparkly chandeliers and walls decked with old dusty books. We were soon joined by Momma Warehouse and other family that I knew.
The ceremony was beautiful and the wedding day as blissful and as perfect as anyone could have hoped. Not everything was to my tastes but then again, it was not my wedding. The brides gown was genuinely breathtaking and something I would have been more than happy to wear; Bride or not! But as the band began to play and the dance-floor became busy Mr. Warehouse and I were surrenders to tiredness, eventually collapsing into bed in the early hours of Sunday morning.
This weekend made me question a few things though, as I suppose it does when anyone, particularly a women goes to a wedding. Commitment is a big thing and although I do not want my home invaded permanently by the stench of man-fart and odd socks, I am slightly more willing to thinking about it. But certainly not for a very long time yet! What isn't long away though is the annual awards ceremony with work where by people get awards, we all eat food, there's an abundance of free booze and everyone dresses in fancy dress. It is literally my dream come true weekend and unlike this time last year, Cinderella will go to the ball ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
