Evening all,
So this weekend has been one of the first Bank Holidays for 2015 and as its Easter I would like to wish ya'll a Hoppy (Easter Reference number one) Easter! And whilst I was banging on, and have been for a while now about my future travels and my itchy travel-bug bite, I have stayed at home in Blighty this Bank Holiday and spent the majority of it with the other half, AKA Mr. Warehouse, and some work colleagues, whom also happen to be Mr. Warehouse's friends and family.
Friday was relaxingly entertaining as Mr. Warehouse and I walked his Golden Retriever in the nearby countryside that backs onto his home just outside Bedford. And so, after a very muddy and soaking-wet trip to the shore of the Lake watching the canine jump in and out of the water like a spawning salmon we all decided to call it a day. Once home we bathed the poor pup, soon settling into the sofa with our Chocolate Easter Eggs and a movie. Saturday Mr. Warehouse and I had planned to go and do some shopping but was hindered slightly by the fact that ever since the previous evening, Mr. Warehouse had been suffering from a tight chest and had barely slept throughout the night. Worried I knew it was an Asthma attack and begged him just to go to a doctors, albeit in vain. After picking up an inhaler we headed out, and returned later than evening from a hard days shopping and browsing to a wonderful Chinese take-away and a chance to meet Mr. Warehouse's Mom's new fella, whom seems nice and friendly, just what she needs, I think!
Yesterday however was an experience, I have to say. Mr. Warehouse and I had been invited to what was in some way a Christening but was called a "Dedication" meaning that the child would be promised to god and when it was finally old enough to make it's own decision then it could choose whether to be baptised or not. In all fairness I think its a cracking (Easter Reference number two) idea. As a Christian I was brought up with my Grandparents teaching me about the ways of the lord, learning things at Sunday Schools and trips to Church when I stayed at my Nanna and Grandads the occasional weekend my parents wanted some "adult time" away from the kids, and I must say that in all the years I had gone to and been a rather insignificant member of the congregation, albeit a part nevertheless, I had always questioned and doubted the things I had been told were gospel.
I think that in any respects of religion the science and fact of the twenty-first century outweighs the fables and folklore surrounding them. It is physically, not to mention completely inconceivable to part sea's, turn water into wine and give birth to the son of god whilst claiming to be a virgin still. I have tried turn water into wine, many times, and I have failed on all accounts. Maybe this is because I am not Jesus or god himself. Or maybe it is because they are simple tales to help people who were struggling in a time of upheaval, war and dictatorship. I am positive that like Syria, Iraq and other places in the middle east today, Jerusalem in year dot was not a nice place either. Tales and stories about a couple who was born of humble beginnings becoming the adoptive parents to the saviour of all mankind was something of fairytales. Miracles and adventures to follow the Bible, whilst some of it may be truthful of the time, the majority, in my eyes at least is fiction. I love the ideas that thousands of people can be fed by just a loaf of bread and a couple of fish or that out of everything endured somebody can rise from the dead but these seem to me ancient explanations for very simple life events.
A man is murdered on a cross and buried in a tomb with a large boulder obstructing the entrance. In the days that follow the body of Christ is nowhere to be found and it is said he has risen again to help all of humanity. Question is science may have an explanation for this. In my mind it is plausible, and in maybe a small case possible, that the boulder was moved due to a shift in the ground such as an earthquake or tremor or even moved by hand. This in turn would open up the cave/tomb to thieves and looters of the time. I mean what was stopping someone getting rid of Jesus' corpse and posing as the Christ Almighty in order to gain fame and notoriety. God was maker of all so why did he not just create more saviours of the world once the only one he ceased existence.
For example, I went to a funeral last year and all it seemed to be was God this and Jesus that. The focus I feel should be on the person in the box not a man who no-one has really seen. A funeral should be about mourning and celebrating a person and who they were and what they meant to people. A wedding should be about love and the coming together of two people with their families in order to make way for more family members in a stable home with a good, steady upbringing. A christening should be the celebration and joyful beginnings of a child's life. All these events that are held in the presence of the lord, usually in God's house should be about the here and now as well as the future to come, not about the past and how the moment and moments to come would never have happened if it weren't for the sacrificing of God's only son. Now don't get me wrong, I love the idea of a church wedding in the British sunshine and weekly trips on a Sunday morning to see friends and family as well as investing time into the community, but why can't you do that without Religion. Sing songs that are in the charts and that we all know the beat to, talk about issues in the local area that affect real people and praise the good of the world that we live in whilst making a difference to those to home. A church of people and a Religion of Community Spirit.
Its not fact obviously but in my opinion the Christian religion, at least, is something worth questioning with the information, fact and science we know now. Truth is we will never know if the story of Easter is true, at least by all Christian accounts any way. Its a controversial opinion yes, and one you may disagree with but nevertheless an opinion I have. All I know is that the church I visited with friends and family on Sunday was not as heavy as some others I have attended and as a self-styled 'community church' it was as friendly and inviting as it possibly could be. Indeed, as I looked around sceptically at the church-goers on that bright Sunday morning I saw hope and positivity. Old people that had come and donated their time and money towards something they believed in, a cause for helping others as well as an excuse to get out of the house once a week and meet up with some old faces over a cuppa and a Rich Tea. In their wrinkles I saw lives that had been lived fully, tragedy and joy endured and not all in equal measures. They were living for something. People from all walks in life, old and young, disabled and abled, poor and well-off - This is what they believed in and had faith with someone from a story book written hundreds of years ago. But most of all it made them happy. As the singing came to a close and the ceremony over with I noted the peacefully nature of the place and the smiles and grins on the faces of all who left. It then dawned on me as I looked over at the children's reading books in the corner - Religion is no different than Cinderella or Snow White. Difference is that whether you are a follower of it or not, without it the world would be a very, very different place indeed ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Fairytale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fairytale. Show all posts
Monday, 6 April 2015
Monday, 30 June 2014
The Rediscovery Of A Broken Fairytale ...
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. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx
Evening to you,
Throughout this journey I lost myself but in the space of a few days since last week and with a few tiny changes I am beginning to find myself again. Happy and content. Young and free. After downloading a few apps and being invited out on a work's night out I felt a little piece of me return every morning I opened my eyes. I anticipated that the work's 'do' would just be some quiet drinks down a local bar in the Town Centre, little did I know how much of an impact I could have. Even as I walked into the office this morning I was inundated with questions about who I left the bar with and what happened when I got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yes, everyone in the office seems to have me on their lips! But nothing happened as I was not in search of a lay that night, but simply the knowledge that I am not wholly repugnant and distasteful to all of the male population! I think I succeeded.
Deciding that that my confidence needed boosting after recent events I donned a floaty skirt and heels to join my office bod's for a night on the tiles. And boy was it! Not having been out since Halloween last year (dressed as a Little Dead Riding Hood no less) I figured that I would go easy. That was until I joined those pesky lads from the warehouse downstairs from my office! Cute but not quite my type we began the evenings debauchery by knocking back an old favourite of mine - Sambuca shots! After perching myself on a bar stool, skirt billowing over my smooth legs, the conversation progressed fast and soon the boys and I were discussing sexual habits like how to go down on a girl, porn, bedroom activities and chat-up lines. The cheesiest of lines were put upon me Friday night and in all honesty I was outwardly and outrageously flirting, but with all this male attention and after recent events of the male variety, who could blame me ...
Stairs. Something about them isn't there that is slightly foreboding. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always foreboding. And so as I stood at the bottom of a narrow, brown stairwell in the centre of The Big Smoke I wondered how I would feel coming down them in a few hours time. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to step onto them but I just couldn't. All around me I must have looked like an idiot just stood there having a face-off with some simple steps. Part of me wanted to climb - Climb up there to a better life in the clouds from one down here. But the reality in my heart told me that what I could face could be down yet another very dark and lonely staircase. Breaking through the barrier of my bodies unwillingness to make the first steps, and pulling my thoughts together I finally made my ascend. Stomach flipping and body beginning to shake I told myself to stay calm and collected. Reaching the last step my shoe slipped off. Like a child I saw it as an omen from a fairytale, but alas there was to be no Prince Charming to make me Happily Ever After. I knew how this story ends, I had read it before. I had to be the knight in shining armour and save myself from tragedy yet again.
After speaking to the waiter I was being escorted to my table where my dinner date was already seated. Winding through tables and past massive gaping windows looking out to the city beneath me I knew in my heart that this was it. Once seated and reintroduced to my company for the evening I took charge immediately of the situation in hand for failure of being made a fool which was at this point inevitable. Not saying a word to my date and disregarding everything I ordered a bottle of the rose. A scene played out in my head that at some point this evening I would rise from the table and scream "Champagne! Champagne for everyone" and the whole restaurant would too join me in a celebration. This was to stay as a fantasy for this evening was one of a melancholy mood. Ordering from a menu I had been scanning all week not knowing if I would even attend this event I made a choice and stuck by it, something that is rare in my world. Making idle small talk we danced around the real reasons we were both in the beautiful surroundings of Covent Garden. Staring into my dates eyes, bright and shiny as they had ever been I wondered which one of us would bring up the question. It had taken a while to get that moment but soon enough it was upon us. With the staff being overtly attentive and the beating evening sun glaring down on us as glanced at our surroundings on the terraced restaurant in the West End of London, I knew it would be me to break the ice once more. Becoming agitated by the lack of urgency in the debate I started. Mr. Cheese in the dock first please!
"So ... As beautiful as a surrounding this all is and as wonderful as to the views; Why are we here?" I beckoned. Heart breaking, I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. A solemn look had replaced an otherwise forced smile and so the evening commenced. Conversation spilling we yet again trudged the same old muddy ground covered like so many times before and one that I refused to put myself through any more. I had enough of going round in circles. It wasn't fun any more. But then again was it ever fun in comparison to the happiness experienced? The lack of passion and fight and energy all lost to somewhere I could not find any more. I was with a man who had no want to carry on trying. Mr. Cheese had lied to me, promising that everything would get better and that he too like me wanted to make it work. Yet again the promise along with a piece of my heart was shattered. I couldn't believe that given the opportunity to make things better and faced with loosing me all together that my boyfriend failed to take such simple steps to make it better. Affection. That's all I wanted. Not just an increase in sex drive on his part but more of the little things. Flowers, presents, cuddles, kisses and anything lovely. I want to be kissed in the pouring rain and surprised at work with a visitor. I want to be swept off my feet and feel butterflies in my belly. I want to have a smile on my face seeing his caller ID and to know that I am the only one my boyfriend needs; Maybe not forever but just to live and feel right in the moment with him. I don't think it is something that I should have to even think about asking from someone that says they love you. But even that I am failing to believe any more.
During this past year, as most of you know, I have experienced everything a human being could ever experience. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. I was tired and exhausted. Unloved and unappreciated. I wanted to get off this ride now. I wanted to go home. As sad as it was I knew that this was the best thing for us. Things were so easy in the beginning. And then I fell. I fell before him and didn't stop until I hit the ground. Hard. I hated how I fell in love with him. His smile. His eyes. His kooky little ways. I hate how I fell for him and despite everything, he never truly fell for me. I wanted to believe anything other than what Mr. Cheese was telling me over that dinner table in London on Wednesday. Anything. I thought up scenario's of him not being happy and wanting to call Ghana off just to make things better between us. Of being gay - which wouldn't have been the first time something has happened like that. Or worst, cheating on me with someone who is much prettier and slimmer and hotter than me, which in all honesty with the way I had felt of late, would not be entirely untrue. But no, none of those things happened. It was simply the end.
And so this concludes the chapter. A tale of wrong bridges and of falling in love. A story I hoped might never end no matter how much I told myself it would. Maybe somewhere beyond Ghana we can rekindle our infatuation with each other, making sure that we spend the time to nurture what we have together. After all, we did have a love story to rival Disney. But alas, the story of Cheese and I must come to an end, at least for now ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Evening to you,
Throughout this journey I lost myself but in the space of a few days since last week and with a few tiny changes I am beginning to find myself again. Happy and content. Young and free. After downloading a few apps and being invited out on a work's night out I felt a little piece of me return every morning I opened my eyes. I anticipated that the work's 'do' would just be some quiet drinks down a local bar in the Town Centre, little did I know how much of an impact I could have. Even as I walked into the office this morning I was inundated with questions about who I left the bar with and what happened when I got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yes, everyone in the office seems to have me on their lips! But nothing happened as I was not in search of a lay that night, but simply the knowledge that I am not wholly repugnant and distasteful to all of the male population! I think I succeeded.
Deciding that that my confidence needed boosting after recent events I donned a floaty skirt and heels to join my office bod's for a night on the tiles. And boy was it! Not having been out since Halloween last year (dressed as a Little Dead Riding Hood no less) I figured that I would go easy. That was until I joined those pesky lads from the warehouse downstairs from my office! Cute but not quite my type we began the evenings debauchery by knocking back an old favourite of mine - Sambuca shots! After perching myself on a bar stool, skirt billowing over my smooth legs, the conversation progressed fast and soon the boys and I were discussing sexual habits like how to go down on a girl, porn, bedroom activities and chat-up lines. The cheesiest of lines were put upon me Friday night and in all honesty I was outwardly and outrageously flirting, but with all this male attention and after recent events of the male variety, who could blame me ...
---
Stairs. Something about them isn't there that is slightly foreboding. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always foreboding. And so as I stood at the bottom of a narrow, brown stairwell in the centre of The Big Smoke I wondered how I would feel coming down them in a few hours time. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to step onto them but I just couldn't. All around me I must have looked like an idiot just stood there having a face-off with some simple steps. Part of me wanted to climb - Climb up there to a better life in the clouds from one down here. But the reality in my heart told me that what I could face could be down yet another very dark and lonely staircase. Breaking through the barrier of my bodies unwillingness to make the first steps, and pulling my thoughts together I finally made my ascend. Stomach flipping and body beginning to shake I told myself to stay calm and collected. Reaching the last step my shoe slipped off. Like a child I saw it as an omen from a fairytale, but alas there was to be no Prince Charming to make me Happily Ever After. I knew how this story ends, I had read it before. I had to be the knight in shining armour and save myself from tragedy yet again.
After speaking to the waiter I was being escorted to my table where my dinner date was already seated. Winding through tables and past massive gaping windows looking out to the city beneath me I knew in my heart that this was it. Once seated and reintroduced to my company for the evening I took charge immediately of the situation in hand for failure of being made a fool which was at this point inevitable. Not saying a word to my date and disregarding everything I ordered a bottle of the rose. A scene played out in my head that at some point this evening I would rise from the table and scream "Champagne! Champagne for everyone" and the whole restaurant would too join me in a celebration. This was to stay as a fantasy for this evening was one of a melancholy mood. Ordering from a menu I had been scanning all week not knowing if I would even attend this event I made a choice and stuck by it, something that is rare in my world. Making idle small talk we danced around the real reasons we were both in the beautiful surroundings of Covent Garden. Staring into my dates eyes, bright and shiny as they had ever been I wondered which one of us would bring up the question. It had taken a while to get that moment but soon enough it was upon us. With the staff being overtly attentive and the beating evening sun glaring down on us as glanced at our surroundings on the terraced restaurant in the West End of London, I knew it would be me to break the ice once more. Becoming agitated by the lack of urgency in the debate I started. Mr. Cheese in the dock first please!
"So ... As beautiful as a surrounding this all is and as wonderful as to the views; Why are we here?" I beckoned. Heart breaking, I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. A solemn look had replaced an otherwise forced smile and so the evening commenced. Conversation spilling we yet again trudged the same old muddy ground covered like so many times before and one that I refused to put myself through any more. I had enough of going round in circles. It wasn't fun any more. But then again was it ever fun in comparison to the happiness experienced? The lack of passion and fight and energy all lost to somewhere I could not find any more. I was with a man who had no want to carry on trying. Mr. Cheese had lied to me, promising that everything would get better and that he too like me wanted to make it work. Yet again the promise along with a piece of my heart was shattered. I couldn't believe that given the opportunity to make things better and faced with loosing me all together that my boyfriend failed to take such simple steps to make it better. Affection. That's all I wanted. Not just an increase in sex drive on his part but more of the little things. Flowers, presents, cuddles, kisses and anything lovely. I want to be kissed in the pouring rain and surprised at work with a visitor. I want to be swept off my feet and feel butterflies in my belly. I want to have a smile on my face seeing his caller ID and to know that I am the only one my boyfriend needs; Maybe not forever but just to live and feel right in the moment with him. I don't think it is something that I should have to even think about asking from someone that says they love you. But even that I am failing to believe any more.
During this past year, as most of you know, I have experienced everything a human being could ever experience. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. I was tired and exhausted. Unloved and unappreciated. I wanted to get off this ride now. I wanted to go home. As sad as it was I knew that this was the best thing for us. Things were so easy in the beginning. And then I fell. I fell before him and didn't stop until I hit the ground. Hard. I hated how I fell in love with him. His smile. His eyes. His kooky little ways. I hate how I fell for him and despite everything, he never truly fell for me. I wanted to believe anything other than what Mr. Cheese was telling me over that dinner table in London on Wednesday. Anything. I thought up scenario's of him not being happy and wanting to call Ghana off just to make things better between us. Of being gay - which wouldn't have been the first time something has happened like that. Or worst, cheating on me with someone who is much prettier and slimmer and hotter than me, which in all honesty with the way I had felt of late, would not be entirely untrue. But no, none of those things happened. It was simply the end.
And so this concludes the chapter. A tale of wrong bridges and of falling in love. A story I hoped might never end no matter how much I told myself it would. Maybe somewhere beyond Ghana we can rekindle our infatuation with each other, making sure that we spend the time to nurture what we have together. After all, we did have a love story to rival Disney. But alas, the story of Cheese and I must come to an end, at least for now ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 3 February 2014
A Move, A Promotion And A Dating Dilemma
Hiya,
So after last week's fiasco involving the ever-alluring Mr. Cheese, my life in other areas has well surpassed my expectations.
Ripping myself from my bed sheets I realised horribly that it was a Thursday morning again and not a Friday as I had hoped for. Asking myself what I should wear today I threw on a skirt and shirt combo and headed out the door to my car share. The day itself ticked along nicely until lunch whereby I had planned a lunch-date with my Dad's girlfriend who works just round the corner from me. Almost instantly conversation turned to Mr. Cheese and his disappointing absence from my world. Spending nearly an hour consuming ourselves with men problems I needed to return to my office and so we left. Upon arrival at my desk everything seemed normal. As the time dragged on more people started returning from their own lunch breaks. I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed people gossipping and a slow buzz took over the accounting department as mouths were twitching with a hum of knowledge. Now a few weeks ago it was apparent that our Administrator would be going on maternity leave very shortly to have a bouncy baby boy (well I'm hoping that they don't test him on the bouncy front, pretty sure that would kill the little mite). The company had started interviews for her role and I decided I would apply. Only I was too late. By the time I got to my manager's office to talk to her, the vacancy had been filled. No worries though, I already had a job I loved and would apply for something else if and when it came up.
Within a few days there was a new face in the office and someone new to share the banter. Nevertheless a fortnight later here I was, at my desks, my fellow workers getting worked up about something. All of a sudden a colleague appeared by my side. Nothing unusual. "Probably some question I could help with" I thought, although I was secretly shitting myself thinking maybe I had done something wrong and that was the end of the line for me! Quite the opposite really. After turning to address the slim-figured women I was asked if I wanted the position of Credit Control Administrator? Stunned I asked why as the position had already been filled. It was then I found out what everyone was nattering about. The lady whom had been taken on in favour of 'yours truly' had disappeared and it was thought that she had simply done a runner on her lunch break, never to return again. As a grin started splitting my face, I knew I had bagged myself that illusive permanent job I had been searching for. Well for a year at least. Over the coming days I was told that the company would match my salary and I would benefit from holiday pay, sick pay and the option to join a pension scheme. Now truth be told most women tend not to return after a baby but even if the mom-to-be does come back I will have been grateful for the experience and appreciative for the opportunities it has given me. Today was my first day shadowing and I now have a further fortnight to gain all knowledge before the labour ward calls on the young-parent.
So that's the work life, now onto the lurve life! Since the separation from suave Mr. Cheese, I have found myself bombarded with suitors from every angle; Dating websites, apps and just generally meeting people. Just so happens that between moving house, socialising with friends, going out with work, unpacking and bagging myself a career I have also managed to finally squeeze in a date. Whom you may ask? That little fortuitous Mr. Rockclimber. Following a lengthy conversation consisting of messages, SnapChat's and the odd text over the past three-months we finally decided enough was enough and that we needed to meet each other.
Wrapping up warm and making sure that the new place was clean and tidy I forced myself into the cold, nearly-midnight air of Bedfordshire. "What are you doing?" I thought to myself. Truth be told I didn't know. What I did know was that it was very cold and I was meeting a man who I had been talking to for the past twelve weeks in a pub a short walk from my new flat at a very late hour in the evening. Upon meeting we shared a hug and ventured into the warmth for a beer. Conversation of good sorts followed - Food, the weather, friends and some funny little anecdotes I have also shared with you lot. But I think it was safe to say that I had pretty much made up my mind as soon as we locked eyes. Whilst I yearn to move on from the indecisive Mr. Cheese I am unable to. I wanted so much for Mr. Rockclimber to be a welcome distraction and a new lease of life for my young, wild and lustful intentions. Regardless of this fact he did indeed stay over that night, purely and simply because he was unable to get back home until the following morning. To answer your burning question - Yes we did. Strangely it was everything that I would have asked from a bed-partner; Romantic, hard, rough and yet so unbelievably soft and gentle with his hands that I swooned under his touch. But nothing. Nothing at all. I wanted to feel something. But all this encounter do for me was make me realise that my lactose-intolerance is not cured by finding someone else. Sadly I feel that Mr. Rockclimber and I wont work out.
In fact, I wonder if I ever will sometimes - Meet the right one that is. Life was so uncomplicated and smooth running with Mr. Cheese it hard to imagine him not in it any more. I wish so hard that I could be simple and just "go with the flow" (Maaaaan) but I can't. I'm a girl. A women. I like cuddles and snuggles and bubbles of the belly variety. Mr. Cheese and I had a love-story to rival Disney; But instead of skipping off happily-ever-after, I'm indulging myself in any possible activity to take my mind off him - Secretly hoping he'll be beneath my window one day.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week's fiasco involving the ever-alluring Mr. Cheese, my life in other areas has well surpassed my expectations.
Ripping myself from my bed sheets I realised horribly that it was a Thursday morning again and not a Friday as I had hoped for. Asking myself what I should wear today I threw on a skirt and shirt combo and headed out the door to my car share. The day itself ticked along nicely until lunch whereby I had planned a lunch-date with my Dad's girlfriend who works just round the corner from me. Almost instantly conversation turned to Mr. Cheese and his disappointing absence from my world. Spending nearly an hour consuming ourselves with men problems I needed to return to my office and so we left. Upon arrival at my desk everything seemed normal. As the time dragged on more people started returning from their own lunch breaks. I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed people gossipping and a slow buzz took over the accounting department as mouths were twitching with a hum of knowledge. Now a few weeks ago it was apparent that our Administrator would be going on maternity leave very shortly to have a bouncy baby boy (well I'm hoping that they don't test him on the bouncy front, pretty sure that would kill the little mite). The company had started interviews for her role and I decided I would apply. Only I was too late. By the time I got to my manager's office to talk to her, the vacancy had been filled. No worries though, I already had a job I loved and would apply for something else if and when it came up.
Within a few days there was a new face in the office and someone new to share the banter. Nevertheless a fortnight later here I was, at my desks, my fellow workers getting worked up about something. All of a sudden a colleague appeared by my side. Nothing unusual. "Probably some question I could help with" I thought, although I was secretly shitting myself thinking maybe I had done something wrong and that was the end of the line for me! Quite the opposite really. After turning to address the slim-figured women I was asked if I wanted the position of Credit Control Administrator? Stunned I asked why as the position had already been filled. It was then I found out what everyone was nattering about. The lady whom had been taken on in favour of 'yours truly' had disappeared and it was thought that she had simply done a runner on her lunch break, never to return again. As a grin started splitting my face, I knew I had bagged myself that illusive permanent job I had been searching for. Well for a year at least. Over the coming days I was told that the company would match my salary and I would benefit from holiday pay, sick pay and the option to join a pension scheme. Now truth be told most women tend not to return after a baby but even if the mom-to-be does come back I will have been grateful for the experience and appreciative for the opportunities it has given me. Today was my first day shadowing and I now have a further fortnight to gain all knowledge before the labour ward calls on the young-parent.
So that's the work life, now onto the lurve life! Since the separation from suave Mr. Cheese, I have found myself bombarded with suitors from every angle; Dating websites, apps and just generally meeting people. Just so happens that between moving house, socialising with friends, going out with work, unpacking and bagging myself a career I have also managed to finally squeeze in a date. Whom you may ask? That little fortuitous Mr. Rockclimber. Following a lengthy conversation consisting of messages, SnapChat's and the odd text over the past three-months we finally decided enough was enough and that we needed to meet each other.
Wrapping up warm and making sure that the new place was clean and tidy I forced myself into the cold, nearly-midnight air of Bedfordshire. "What are you doing?" I thought to myself. Truth be told I didn't know. What I did know was that it was very cold and I was meeting a man who I had been talking to for the past twelve weeks in a pub a short walk from my new flat at a very late hour in the evening. Upon meeting we shared a hug and ventured into the warmth for a beer. Conversation of good sorts followed - Food, the weather, friends and some funny little anecdotes I have also shared with you lot. But I think it was safe to say that I had pretty much made up my mind as soon as we locked eyes. Whilst I yearn to move on from the indecisive Mr. Cheese I am unable to. I wanted so much for Mr. Rockclimber to be a welcome distraction and a new lease of life for my young, wild and lustful intentions. Regardless of this fact he did indeed stay over that night, purely and simply because he was unable to get back home until the following morning. To answer your burning question - Yes we did. Strangely it was everything that I would have asked from a bed-partner; Romantic, hard, rough and yet so unbelievably soft and gentle with his hands that I swooned under his touch. But nothing. Nothing at all. I wanted to feel something. But all this encounter do for me was make me realise that my lactose-intolerance is not cured by finding someone else. Sadly I feel that Mr. Rockclimber and I wont work out.
In fact, I wonder if I ever will sometimes - Meet the right one that is. Life was so uncomplicated and smooth running with Mr. Cheese it hard to imagine him not in it any more. I wish so hard that I could be simple and just "go with the flow" (Maaaaan) but I can't. I'm a girl. A women. I like cuddles and snuggles and bubbles of the belly variety. Mr. Cheese and I had a love-story to rival Disney; But instead of skipping off happily-ever-after, I'm indulging myself in any possible activity to take my mind off him - Secretly hoping he'll be beneath my window one day.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 12 February 2013
A Night of Waistcoats, Free Drinks and Disappointment
Hi Guys,
So another week another entry. But also a few more tales to tell. I have just finished saying goodbye to an Aunt of mine who is visiting from southern Ireland. After escaping the uncomfortable heat of my fathers lounge we went for a sneaky cigarette and chat outside. I discovered that it is not only my friends that follow me and my blog. Turns out Auntie-Ireland is a big fan?!
As explained in the last post Miss Chocolate and I were having a night out on the tiles. And a night out on the tiles it was. It started with my parents going away for the weekend to London and so I had the whole house to myself - Bliss! I got ready as usual only to find the only hairdryer in the house was going to London on a trip too. Very unhappy little lady, with added frizzy hair. I planned on wearing a little black number, 'The Knockout' dress I bought from a well-known high street shop. In fact I was quite impressed that I had fitted into there sizes as I am a self confessed calorie-ignorer. As I left for the station looked hot to trott and with a sheer front and back panel to the dress I had to have balls to be wearing it. Upon arriving to said location and meeting with Miss Chocolate I split my tights and proceeded to the nearest corner shop to by some more, only to then barter with the assistant to try and get a discount. I ended up paying £2.99 for 4 pairs of black opaque tights that little old ladies wear. Once we entering the club, Miss Chocolate and I quickly hit the bar and necked a few and chatted for a bit until the conversation took a turn towards the subject of Mr. Coffee. I had spoken to him briefly that afternoon but as with every time we speak, it is never long enough for me to edge towards asking him on a date. And yes I have resigned myself to the fact that whilst he is lovely, if this is going to anywhere it will yet again be me tugging on the reins. I had told Miss Chocolate that Mr. Coffee was due to be out tonight, weather it was in attendance at the same establishment or not was another thing entirely. Apparently this had given Miss Chocolate a spiffing idea to text my undying yurn for him and also a voice mail message too.
As we yet again approached the bar, a man started coming onto us. To his dismay Miss Chocolate and I pulled out our favourite one-liner saved especially for creeps like him and told him that we were lesbians out on a les-only-bender (no pun intended). Graciously he still bought us a drink though, but continued to pester us all night, probably in the hope of watching some girl on girl action. While slowly getting more and more drunk I decided that as he had not responded (no surprise) that I should pursue other avenues of interest. Then, just as I was explaining my plot the most incredible, fairy book man appeared glowing through the dry ice and the coloured lights. All four points I look for in a man were checked off. Shoes: Made of leather, slightly pointed and modern. Eyes: Deep chestnut brown and protected by some practical geeky specs. Teeth: Shiny white and squeaky clean. Hair: Strawberry blonde in a roughed up style, something I was itching to run my fingers through. All four points is a rare find, but then add on top the fact that he was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by a matching waistcoat. A black tie gently finished off the combination along with a tie pin. I mean who wears them. No one, unless your like a proper nice 'take-me-home-to-mummy-and-daddy' kinda guy. Accompanying his attire was a white handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat. Not a piece of white paper carefully folded to pretend, nor a natty napkin from the local chippy. A proper gentleman's handkerchief. I froze. This was it! Yasmin sensed I was on the prowl and promptly said to go and get him, and like a sexy lioness I stalked over to my prey. The intention was that if I had big enough balls to wear this dress and come out of the house with my hair half curled then why the hell not. As I approached my victim I mentioned how I liked his waistcoat and he fondly admired my dress and touched my hair whilst commenting on its prettiness. At this point I nearly lost it and ravished him right there and then, but I played it cool. We chatted and he mentioned how he looked similar to a posh billionaire whom I know of. I agreed and before I had a chance to shut my mouth the alcohol explained how I had a massive crush on him. Best move ever! After conversing for a substantial time we headed off in separate directions to find yet again more beverages. I returned to Miss Chocolate to find her smiling ear to ear, almost splitting her face in half. She and I both knew that the chase was on!
We tried to keep track of Mr.Waistcoat and his poshly clad entourage but it was getting harder as the club got busier. Miss Chocolate and I kept and eye out for him and she would always push me in his direction. I would always gracefully return the favour whenever I saw Miss Chocolate's 'Type', however she seemed to be more Gazelle than Lioness when it came down to it and would sprint for the nearest hideout. After a while I got bored of trying with Mr. Waistcoat and pursued someone that was more easily seduced. It didn't take long to lure someone in and we started to attempt idle small talk on a crowded dance floor surrounded by revellers and banging tunes. Before long we were having a soft make-out session and I must say that whilst his face was a tad bristly, he wasn't a bad kisser. I yet again tired of him and moved out again towards Miss Chocolate was seated sipping on a straight Cola as she was driving. It was getting late and I had not yet found a meal to take home. Now I know this sounds like I'm a bit of a Harlequin and all but the thing is all women do it. We all look for a guy when were out to make a move on or to tempt him over to us and buy us a drink or just say 'Hi'. Difference is I'm brave enough to talk about it openly. If a man did it - which they do - it would be seen as normal and probably given a high-five approval. Just because Ive got mammary glands doesn't mean I cant go on the prowl for fresh meat!
Mr. Waistcoat was nowhere to be found, Mr. Coffee wasn't responding, and I had gotten bored with Mr. Bumfuzz. I approached my final target, intent on making this one count. I had seen him around before and smiled and said 'Hey' a few times but now I made my move. Yet again I opened with my full-proof, undefeated line. Hook. Line. Sinker. As we started dancing he softly stroked my left arm as we swayed against the music and lights. It sounds creepy but was actually very sensual. Again another nice young man. That was until I went to touch his arm, but as I went to affectionately return the stroking favour, our hands accidentally bumped into one another. Now usually this wouldn't be an issue, especially maybe in the sort of situation, however it is not usual for his hand to be mangled and twisted in such a way that I nearly recoiled in horror. I kept calm though and willed myself not to look down at his gammy hand. Maybe it was just default? Maybe he just had an erection because you were so hot and was trying to expel it by making funny hands? Besides the rest of him wasn't deformed in any way. I mean it wasn't like I was dancing with Quasimodo or anything. He seemed nice and not in the slightest strange. Pushing this thought to the back of my head, I turned to face my fellow sister of Singlesville. Her face changed as she looked at the clock on her phone. Hearing the music slowly die and the lights start to come on I swiftly left Mr. Take-My-Strowng-Hand and made my way to Miss Chocolates side. Only to discover that I had twelve minutes to make it to my train on time. If I didn't make this one, I would have an hour wait until the next one at 4.15am. Like a strong Ox she pulled me away and pushed me into the path of the newly founded Mr. Waistcoat. Intoxicated, I stood there until I was nudged into asking for his number. I cautiously entered the digits one-by-one in the effort not to fluff up one last attempt at hitting on him. Realising I had minutes to spare I said my goodbyes and left, fleeing into the night like Cinderella.
After frantically running to the station I narrowly got on the train before leaving and got home safely. I did however end up throwing up and only managing to reach for my Mothers cherished crystal key bowl on the coffee table. I did a good job of washing up the following morning and I am sure she shall never find out. Disappointingly I didn't see Mr. Coffee but also that I never brought anyone home but maybe that was for the best given my unsettled stomach. On the plus side I have Mr. Waistcoats number and have been talking to him today so we shall see where this one goes, although I don't think it shall go very far, given the circumstances we met upon aren't the most romantical?! We shall have to wait and see ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
So another week another entry. But also a few more tales to tell. I have just finished saying goodbye to an Aunt of mine who is visiting from southern Ireland. After escaping the uncomfortable heat of my fathers lounge we went for a sneaky cigarette and chat outside. I discovered that it is not only my friends that follow me and my blog. Turns out Auntie-Ireland is a big fan?!
As explained in the last post Miss Chocolate and I were having a night out on the tiles. And a night out on the tiles it was. It started with my parents going away for the weekend to London and so I had the whole house to myself - Bliss! I got ready as usual only to find the only hairdryer in the house was going to London on a trip too. Very unhappy little lady, with added frizzy hair. I planned on wearing a little black number, 'The Knockout' dress I bought from a well-known high street shop. In fact I was quite impressed that I had fitted into there sizes as I am a self confessed calorie-ignorer. As I left for the station looked hot to trott and with a sheer front and back panel to the dress I had to have balls to be wearing it. Upon arriving to said location and meeting with Miss Chocolate I split my tights and proceeded to the nearest corner shop to by some more, only to then barter with the assistant to try and get a discount. I ended up paying £2.99 for 4 pairs of black opaque tights that little old ladies wear. Once we entering the club, Miss Chocolate and I quickly hit the bar and necked a few and chatted for a bit until the conversation took a turn towards the subject of Mr. Coffee. I had spoken to him briefly that afternoon but as with every time we speak, it is never long enough for me to edge towards asking him on a date. And yes I have resigned myself to the fact that whilst he is lovely, if this is going to anywhere it will yet again be me tugging on the reins. I had told Miss Chocolate that Mr. Coffee was due to be out tonight, weather it was in attendance at the same establishment or not was another thing entirely. Apparently this had given Miss Chocolate a spiffing idea to text my undying yurn for him and also a voice mail message too.
As we yet again approached the bar, a man started coming onto us. To his dismay Miss Chocolate and I pulled out our favourite one-liner saved especially for creeps like him and told him that we were lesbians out on a les-only-bender (no pun intended). Graciously he still bought us a drink though, but continued to pester us all night, probably in the hope of watching some girl on girl action. While slowly getting more and more drunk I decided that as he had not responded (no surprise) that I should pursue other avenues of interest. Then, just as I was explaining my plot the most incredible, fairy book man appeared glowing through the dry ice and the coloured lights. All four points I look for in a man were checked off. Shoes: Made of leather, slightly pointed and modern. Eyes: Deep chestnut brown and protected by some practical geeky specs. Teeth: Shiny white and squeaky clean. Hair: Strawberry blonde in a roughed up style, something I was itching to run my fingers through. All four points is a rare find, but then add on top the fact that he was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by a matching waistcoat. A black tie gently finished off the combination along with a tie pin. I mean who wears them. No one, unless your like a proper nice 'take-me-home-to-mummy-and-daddy' kinda guy. Accompanying his attire was a white handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat. Not a piece of white paper carefully folded to pretend, nor a natty napkin from the local chippy. A proper gentleman's handkerchief. I froze. This was it! Yasmin sensed I was on the prowl and promptly said to go and get him, and like a sexy lioness I stalked over to my prey. The intention was that if I had big enough balls to wear this dress and come out of the house with my hair half curled then why the hell not. As I approached my victim I mentioned how I liked his waistcoat and he fondly admired my dress and touched my hair whilst commenting on its prettiness. At this point I nearly lost it and ravished him right there and then, but I played it cool. We chatted and he mentioned how he looked similar to a posh billionaire whom I know of. I agreed and before I had a chance to shut my mouth the alcohol explained how I had a massive crush on him. Best move ever! After conversing for a substantial time we headed off in separate directions to find yet again more beverages. I returned to Miss Chocolate to find her smiling ear to ear, almost splitting her face in half. She and I both knew that the chase was on!
We tried to keep track of Mr.Waistcoat and his poshly clad entourage but it was getting harder as the club got busier. Miss Chocolate and I kept and eye out for him and she would always push me in his direction. I would always gracefully return the favour whenever I saw Miss Chocolate's 'Type', however she seemed to be more Gazelle than Lioness when it came down to it and would sprint for the nearest hideout. After a while I got bored of trying with Mr. Waistcoat and pursued someone that was more easily seduced. It didn't take long to lure someone in and we started to attempt idle small talk on a crowded dance floor surrounded by revellers and banging tunes. Before long we were having a soft make-out session and I must say that whilst his face was a tad bristly, he wasn't a bad kisser. I yet again tired of him and moved out again towards Miss Chocolate was seated sipping on a straight Cola as she was driving. It was getting late and I had not yet found a meal to take home. Now I know this sounds like I'm a bit of a Harlequin and all but the thing is all women do it. We all look for a guy when were out to make a move on or to tempt him over to us and buy us a drink or just say 'Hi'. Difference is I'm brave enough to talk about it openly. If a man did it - which they do - it would be seen as normal and probably given a high-five approval. Just because Ive got mammary glands doesn't mean I cant go on the prowl for fresh meat!
Mr. Waistcoat was nowhere to be found, Mr. Coffee wasn't responding, and I had gotten bored with Mr. Bumfuzz. I approached my final target, intent on making this one count. I had seen him around before and smiled and said 'Hey' a few times but now I made my move. Yet again I opened with my full-proof, undefeated line. Hook. Line. Sinker. As we started dancing he softly stroked my left arm as we swayed against the music and lights. It sounds creepy but was actually very sensual. Again another nice young man. That was until I went to touch his arm, but as I went to affectionately return the stroking favour, our hands accidentally bumped into one another. Now usually this wouldn't be an issue, especially maybe in the sort of situation, however it is not usual for his hand to be mangled and twisted in such a way that I nearly recoiled in horror. I kept calm though and willed myself not to look down at his gammy hand. Maybe it was just default? Maybe he just had an erection because you were so hot and was trying to expel it by making funny hands? Besides the rest of him wasn't deformed in any way. I mean it wasn't like I was dancing with Quasimodo or anything. He seemed nice and not in the slightest strange. Pushing this thought to the back of my head, I turned to face my fellow sister of Singlesville. Her face changed as she looked at the clock on her phone. Hearing the music slowly die and the lights start to come on I swiftly left Mr. Take-My-Strowng-Hand and made my way to Miss Chocolates side. Only to discover that I had twelve minutes to make it to my train on time. If I didn't make this one, I would have an hour wait until the next one at 4.15am. Like a strong Ox she pulled me away and pushed me into the path of the newly founded Mr. Waistcoat. Intoxicated, I stood there until I was nudged into asking for his number. I cautiously entered the digits one-by-one in the effort not to fluff up one last attempt at hitting on him. Realising I had minutes to spare I said my goodbyes and left, fleeing into the night like Cinderella.
After frantically running to the station I narrowly got on the train before leaving and got home safely. I did however end up throwing up and only managing to reach for my Mothers cherished crystal key bowl on the coffee table. I did a good job of washing up the following morning and I am sure she shall never find out. Disappointingly I didn't see Mr. Coffee but also that I never brought anyone home but maybe that was for the best given my unsettled stomach. On the plus side I have Mr. Waistcoats number and have been talking to him today so we shall see where this one goes, although I don't think it shall go very far, given the circumstances we met upon aren't the most romantical?! We shall have to wait and see ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
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