Boris the Easter Bunny came through for us

Hello Lovely Readers, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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A glimmer of hope for us all?

Heidi Hi,  

Snow is yet again fluttering down again this week, making our lives in lockdown a little less mundane and more interesting than the last nearly eight-weeks (fuck that's depressing). Today I start working from home (again) although this time I have a plan. I have moved the spare room around, I plan to buy a nice office chair, maybe a beanbag for the corner of the room and any guests I have to join me (probably one of the dogs or Mr Warehouse after he gets in). I even invested in a huge Mandela wall art piece so I can make it more boho and relaxing whilst WFH this time around, not that I need to be any more relaxed as the new job is like night and day from my last with so much less stress and the overwhelming intensity has disappeared entirely. Whilst it is different in terms of the work culture and workloads, I am enjoying it and honestly so glad I made the decision to move.

Tomorrow I will start my first full day working from my "new office" and am already so excited to light a new candle - The little things I suppose. But you have to take them where you can get them as the world is still amongst a grip of the COVID-19 Pandemic. As much as I have tried to distance myself from it, socially and otherwise, it is hard not to ignore that the UK has now surpassed over 100,000 deaths from the disease. The BBC confirms that the death toll is fading fast with just over 300 being recorded today (Monday 08 February 2021), a drop of 200 in the space of a fortnight. With more than 12 million people in the UK have now had their first dose of a coronavirus vaccine surely the end is in sight now? That's almost one in four adults in the UK - Incredible!

Prime Minister Boris Johnson has said the government will set out a "roadmap" for easing restrictions in England on 22 February. You can understand why people are chomping at the bit to get outside and back to normality as during the current lockdown the public have been told to stay at home other than for limited purposes such as essential food shopping, medical appointments and work. With schools also closed, I know many a parent who is slowly going insane being driven up the wall by the constant neediness from their children and seemingly never-ending want for snacks. To be fair though, I am not a child and Mr Warehouse nor a parent and yet I display all those traits of nagging offspring.

Here's hoping we can soon join the likes of the Isle of Man. Sky News reported last week that the small island situated between England and Ireland were able to welcome back pupils to schools and businesses could reopen. People will be able to leave their homes but don't get excited for your holidays just yet though as the borders will remain closed to outsiders. And don't think they fuck about either as the article goes onto explain that In December 2020, a man was jailed for breaching COVID-19 regulations after riding a jet ski to the island from Scotland to visit his partner. Ahh, sweet love or utter stupidity?

The island had not seen any "unexplained" community cases of the coronavirus for just under three-weeks and so this meant that islanders could hang up their face-masks and tell social-distancing to do one as many families and friends hugged for the first time since last year. Sky News continues that the current lockdown restrictions have been entirely lifted in the Isle of Man thanks to the "supportive, patriotic" public who have been praised for the way they have followed measures to tackle COVID-19. When being interviewed, Chief Minister Howard Quayle told Sky News "we had no COVID on the Isle of Man from the 15 June 2020 to the 7 January 2021 but sadly, we had some cases on the Isle of Man in which we had to go in quick and fast, shut down our island to enable us to eradicate".

One day. One day this will all be over and all but a blemish on our otherwise normal lives. A fortnight from now we will know a little more I am sure - But for now, we live by our windows, watching the world go by and waiting for the day we can get out and join them.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

Let the wedding bells ring out

 Hello Hello,  

Snow defrosted and all snowmen melted (although I think we now have to refer to them and "snow people" just in case someone gets offended, commonly known rather ironically as a snow-flake) our lives in lockdown returned to normal - Whatever the fuck that is anymore. By mid-week, it was all but a long lost daydream and with our evening occupied with plans for the first time in months, I was excited. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was actually going to be talking wedding shit. Not "Oooh I hope it happens this year" or "Oh no COVID-safe wedding" blah blah blah. No. Certifiably exciting wedding shit.

After weeks of uncertainty and unknowing, anxious days of thinking non-stop about how our wedding might look. Will it go ahead, won't it go ahead? What are the restrictions, will we have to wear facemasks and is there any point in having all the expense? If it does go ahead how many people will we be allowed, will it be enough and who are the magic few? So many questions whirling around in my head it is no wonder I hadn't much sleep since Christmas. Because whilst everyone means well after the big man came down our chimney (socially distanced of course) the next question on everyone's lips was wedding, wedding, wedding.

As much as I knew that all our friends and family meant well by asking and only trying to maybe suck some happiness and excitement for finally a day where we could all be together again, I loathed the conversations and all that they entailed. That was until I had an honest and frank conversation with firstly my Matron of Honour - Mrs Tweedle-Dumb, and thereafter spurred on by our conversation (and the lure of a kebab) Mr Warehouse. We sat down on a Friday night to discuss and I had come up with several ideas such as a Humanist Ceremony (basically a non-religious and non-legally-binding ceremony focussing on each other as opposed to the holy one) switching up the venues to something smaller and less costly to accommodate the possibly smaller guest numbers and even the "P" word again.

As before, Mr Warehouse reassured me, if not heavily-handed due to the heated discussion (not helped by the chilli sauce laden lamb pitta). He made me more confident and happy that things are too uncertain at this moment in time to be making any rash decisions when no one knows what is happening next week let alone in four-months time. And so we took the decision that after touching on a few of the above ideas we would take them into consideration, add a pinch of salt and put it on the back burner until Easter when Government hopes to start opening life back up. Today the BBC confirms that the death toll is fading fast with only 406 being recorded today (Monday 01 February 2021), down just under a hundred on last Monday's figure. With the downturn in figures for people becoming infected as well as dying from the disease seems to suggest that the vaccines are working. What's even better news is that should the news be believed, the UK is not only on target but smashing the figures and expects that not only would we have vaccinated the top four categories of vulnerable people by mid-February, but that it is likely that this could be as soon as next week.

With all this in mind and focussing heavily the last few weeks since the kebab-convo, I have become engrossed in positivity and only accept positive vibes and attitudes. All Negative Nelly's and Grumple-Grumps need not apply. And so getting back to the beginning of this blog, our evening occupiedo. Armed with mountains of information from blogs, podcasts, news and more (Mainly from Guide For Brides and their weekly updates from the governments wedding taskforce so a big shout out to them for igniting such a firey intensity surrounding wedding planning again) Mr Warehouse and I scrabbled around for the laptop lead and the best lighting for our meet with the Reverand.

Much talking of flowers, hymns, singing (why do I hear Will Ferrell in the voice of "Elf" saying singing - Man I love that film) and readings were enough to keep me going. I had hoped Mr Warehouse would get just as excited as I was, maybe rubbing off on him a little, but I think a hard day in the pharmaceuticals industry with many more to come and the work-life causing mounting stress and frustration didn't help him to unwind or giddy about anything. And so June 12th here we come. Ideally with everyone. Even better with my Matron of Honour to be allowed to travel here from LA without visa restrictions or our nephew to wave at us from the crowded faces. The icing on the cake if we can have a dance and disco or cuddle - OMG! Dare I get too ecstatic? In any which way on the 12th of June, it will be me and Mr Warehouse and our Reverand standing up there, who else joins us along the way - Who knows?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

When it snows you either grab a shovel or make snow angels

Heyy,  

The snow began falling on Saturday, however, it was never going to be enough for a full-blown snow day. Settling in for the night and heading to bed it had yet to stop, but the light sprinkle was enough to get excited about. I mean what can I say it has been nearly a year of being in and out of quarantine and lockdowns so this is about as exciting as it gets.

By Sunday morning the flakes were getting bigger and a thin layer was forming on the ground outside. With some tasty chilli cheese bread in I reached for the butter, only to realise it was empty and instead reached for my car keys. Venturing out into the blizzard I was glad to have de-iced the car ready for the Monday morning commute which would, I am sure, be more arduous than normal. On returning the snow was getting heavier and as Mr Warehouse and the pups come out to greet me we chatted with neighbours and did a bit of prep work for the morning to follow. All-day it floated down from the sky as we split our time between playing in the garden with the dogs and snoozing in the warmth of some blankets on the sofa. Even when night fell and Mr Warehouse and I snuggled into bed, we could still see the snow coming down from the dark night as we wondered what the following morrow would bring.

A lot of fucking scraping I can tell you that much. Frozen car doors were the first obstacle. The second of which was a feeble process of sweeping the light dusty snow from the car and scraping the remainder which looked like snow clumps but seemingly had all ganged up to create a massive ice ball which engulfed my car. Twenty-minutes later I was ready to drive to work, if not running late and almost certain I would be told to grab my laptop charger and fuck off home where it was safe. Alas, however, I got into the office in one piece and was told I would be in all week, if it was possible, due to further training - something I lapped up readily.

Something special about snow, especially this time. The fact it brought neighbours together for the first time in months, everyone peaking out the window to watch the next snowman or slip on the ice. Kids screaming down the street announcing a snowball fight as grown adults and kids waged a war on forced isolation. Watching the dogs play in the snow, Frankenstein's first encounter with the white stuff, I recalled a couple of years ago the dreaded  Beast from The East and how we had not really had a snowfall since at least not here in the comfy Home-Counties. Back in 2018, just mere months from mortgages and house deeds, Storm Emma brought the Beast from The East. 

The colder weather coming across from Russia being blown by Siberia and picking up some icy chills on the way the temperatures soon plummeted to rival the sinking of the Titanic and blizzard snow's hampering travel plans as well as all manner of daily activities life for some across the British Isles in March of that year, just weeks before Easter. Rather than getting excited about springtime sunshine, flowers, bunnies and lambs; Storm Emma forced the MET Office to issue a red weather warning foreboding a loss of life should people be caught up in the outside winds of 70mph coupled with the already existing polar vortex from Beast from The East with forecasts for -15C wind chills and snowdrifts nearly as tall as you. Yes you! 

But if that cold snap proved anything, it taught us that things will be brighter once the (snow) storm clears. As reports today through the BBC confirm, it seems the daily death toll is lessening with only 592 being recorded today (Monday 25 January 2021), down seven on last Monday's figure. Yes, I know, just seven, but it is still heading in the right direction - Although that doesn't take into account all the "false data" which means that anyone who has passed away within 28 days of a positive COVID19 test, despite the cause of death, will be recorded as a COVID related death even if it was unrelated.

The downturn in figures for people becoming infected seems to suggest that the virus is n the decline and probably with much thanks from the vaccination programme which so far the latest government figures show that 6.5 million people have now received the first dose, up 2.5-million from last week. My, My they have been busy! Reporting by the BBC confirms Health Secretary Matt Hancock saying almost four in five of the UK's over 80s have now had the vaccine, with nearly 500,000 people having had a second dose of the wonder-drug. It is said that the government needs to give about 380,000 vaccine doses a day if it is to reach the 15 million most vulnerable people by the middle of February and with the current seven-day average is almost 360,000, I am sure the end is in sight soon.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

Think Positive & Positive Will Come

Heyy,  

The sparkle of positivity about 2021 that was first ignited last week is still burning bright and getting hotter and hotter as the days and weeks progress. just hope Boris doesn't have a bucket of water for my fireworks waiting for me around the corner. I have now settled in quite nicely in my new job and know a bit more but all is going well and whilst it is strange not having the normal introductions and training I seem to be doing well.

Whilst I said last week that since the country has been plunged into an official 3rd Lockdown it makes for difficult work trying to see the positivity in things, especially all things weddings and celebratory.

As reported today through the BBC, only 599 deaths were recorded today (and I say only but obviously we know that even one death is too many). But is this the beginning of the end? The downturn in figures for people becoming infected seem to suggest so and with fewer people becoming infected, the less likely people are to be hospitalised and die from the disease which has wreaked havoc on our lives for nearly a year! This is equally positive when you hear scaremongering stories in the press and media about this "new variant" of the virus thought to be much more easily transmissible than other strains, although not believed to be more deadly - Something I already have, controversially, voiced my concerns and thoughts on.

Despite my confidence, I am a realist - Prime Minister Boris Johnson has warned on several occasions that easing of restrictions on daily life, mask-wearing and social distancing is all heavily reliant on the vaccine rollout being a success as well as there being no further concerning variants of the virus. Another article from BBC asks about whether a vaccine, regardless of its roll out allow us to return to normal as we knew it before? I myself as I am sure many of you are desperately hoping that the coronavirus vaccines will transport us back to our pre-Covid lives.

Whilst it is amazing we have several brilliant vaccines already approved for market, not to mention the many more that will be coming through in the coming months I am sure, but it could take months or possibly years to vaccinate enough of the global population to make the whole interconnected world safe and reach a point where we can all return to fully normal. Prof David Salisbury, a former director of immunisation at the UK Department of Health says that in his humble opinion "suggestions that vaccines will be able to take us back to where we were pre-Covid by Easter have given people an unrealistic expectation's", and such an outcome, in the absence of the interruption of transmission, is "unlikely".

But I am valiantly subscribing to the sunnier broadcasts and whereas the days where Number 10 press conferences were a monotonous deluge of horrendous figures and numbers I have now begun to tune into the hope and positivity from them, even if I have the fortune of driving home from the office during their broadcast, therefore, missing out on all the standard doom and gloom. Thankfully Mr Warehouse is always on hand to update me on my arrival home.

In the news article from the BBC, the latest government figures show that four-million people have now received the first dose, and just over 450,000 people have had a second. It is said that following the vulnerable and OAP's having their jabs, the NHS and partners will move onto the next category including the over-50's in their sights as well as the aforementioned groups not picked up first time around. With Health Secretary Matt Hancock says the government is aiming to offer all UK adults a vaccine by September I am more than hopeful that we will get married this year - I just hope we don't need to postpone it to Autumn?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain

Hello All,  

A fortnight into the new year and I am starting to see just a sparkle of positivity about 2021. After practically crying through the fireworks on New Year's Eve (albeit 2019's - See last weeks blog post) I have finally finished wallowing in self-pity and I am starting to see what I can do with all the wonderful time I have now free on my hands. Alas as much as I wish it were true Couch To 5K is not on that list. It may be a new year and a new job but I am far from a new me - I am still the same old same old you have all grown to love, I hope.

The new job is going well and whilst it is strange not having the normal introductions around the office, desperately trying to remember everyone's name without offensive adjectives in front. There is no banter around the coffee machine or getting to know colleagues. I will be honest though as the tin of Quality Street the size of my car that is being passed around is soon becoming a 3pm habit.

That being said, COVID hasn't helped the job transfusion and since the country has been plunged into an official Lockdown (lost count at which fucking number we are on now - 4 I think?!) it makes for difficult work trying to learn a new job. According to that Jock-Strap of a Health Secretary, Matt Hancock the UK is at the "worst point" of the pandemic.

As reported through the BBC, Number 10 press conferences have now just become a monotonous deluge of horrendous figures and numbers about how many have got the COVID-19 Coronavirus and how many so far have died from it, a figure now close to 85,000 Brit's. The begging and pleading for people to abide by the rules, washing hands, wearing face masks and keeping space I am afraid has come too little too late and should have been heavily enforced with the like of Dominic Cummings as his flouting of said rules has only made the rest of us think what is the point.

So far 2.3 million people in the UK have had a first Covid vaccine shot with many of them already completing their course of the two shots, giving them full immunity. But with millions still yet to vaccinate, the delivery plan is expected to take until spring to give the first dose to all 32 million people in the UK's priority groups, including the over-55's and those who are clinically vulnerable. The BBC continues to report that, on a positive note, a good percentage of those at higher risk of an ITU bed (the over-70s, older care home residents and staff, frontline healthcare workers to name a few) will have had their first jab in the arm by mid-February meaning they are 70% immune from the deadly virus. 

Now don't get me wrong - I ain't stupid. The Governments earlier published plans to immunise more of the nation by Easter seems ambitious, to say the least, however, I am hoping that after all the cockup's and conundrums last year, Boris Johnson can finally rally round his posh-twat friends and get things sorted. Someone once said - Once you replace negative thoughts with positive ones, you’ll start having positive results, let's just hope it isn't positive for COVID - But with a third American vaccine now approved and on backorder into the UK, I am feeling more optimistic than I have been in the last few weeks about the upcoming year and all it has to bring with it - Weddings and parties included! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

More Sleepless Nights

Evening,  

Going into the new year I was less than positive about 2021. Sat there on New Year's eve, probably for the first time in my adult life, tucked up in bed and watching the fireworks, albeit last years London skyline performance.

So the story goes (yes I know going off on a sideline but trust me this is both worth it just for the laugh and also to confirm that I am still as ditsy as when I first started this blog nearly a decade ago), numb-nuts here figured that since it was quarter to midnight she would watch a couple of nail art compilations and then she would just type into Youtube and find a live stream of the celebrations in the capital. Sure great idea. Only the video I chose to watch was very worrying with people crowding the banks of the River Thames and marshalls and police doing nothing to disperse the gatherings and seemingly enjoying the dancing and celebrating too. Swaths of people lined the streets and amidst my dismay, for lack of social distancing, I felt lucky to have tuned in with just ten-seconds to go. Beckoning our little pup to my chest I sat up in bed as Mr Warehouse slept soundly next to me. The skies suddenly lit up outside in the street with colourful fireworks and loud pops and bangs. Blue laser's flashed through the dark night as I stood at the window, pup in arms watching and telling him to "shh" at every sound. He seemed fascinated. Mr Warehouse on the other hand was unimpressed with being awoken in such an unsavoury manner.

Feeling successfully fulfilled I switched over to some videos about horror stories or Amazon finds before settling down and falling asleep. Waking in the morning I informed my fiance of the farce that was the fireworks in London I had witnessed the night before, and, watching it again on demand this time for his benefit I soon realised that this was not the same thing I had watched last night. Even then I did not notice the error of my ways and instead thought I had watched something maybe from Channel 4 or another live stream randomly on the internet. It was not until I noted looking through my Youtube history showing Mr Warehouse what I had seen that I realised, stupidly that I had been watching the fireworks and celebrations from New Year's Eve - 2019. Apparently, 2020 wasn't that bad and my sub-conscience would like to relive it again, please.

I must admit I felt silly and low and behold it has not improved much in the four-days since then as just hot off the press, Boris Johnson has called a press conference this evening confirming that despite Christmas being cancelled, despite most of the UK going into the most severe of tiers (Tier 4) and despite a vaccine being rolled out with mass inoculating taking place (apparently) we are going into yet another nationwide Lockdown. And there was me complaining several weeks ago that many areas including London, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire amongst other in the South East in basically fucking lockdown number 3 and how it was going to be the first time in my entire life that I would not be spending Christmas with my family. If only I knew then what I do now - Although to be fair another Lockdown was absolutely on the cards and almost inevitable and unavoidable as case numbers and deaths have sored over the festive period because people can't fucking keep it together. 

But the frustrating thing is that I get it. As I mentioned last week, with everything that has happened in the last twelve months and how much has been stolen from not just me but my family as well, missing out on BBQ's, parties, seeing loved ones, birthdays, new babies, holidays and our damned fucking wedding (which I still and almost even more-so now don't feel totally optimistic about going ahead at the moment) would anyone blame anyone else for wanting to act out?

After starting my new job today and soaking up as much as my little brain (and I emphasize little referring you to the earlier mishap with said NYE celebrations) could take, I am extremely on edge now about everything. The rug has well and truly been ripped out from beneath my feet and I am now second-guessing every move I have made. Was this the right decision to move jobs? Was now a great time to start somewhere new? Can I do this? Am I able to learn a job fully remotely and continue working from home for what could potentially be the next quarter? Will I be furloughed? Will I be laid off? And that is what is spinning round in my head right now and that's without the constant grinding thoughts about the wedding or starting a family or just organising the spare room. No wonder I can't sleep at night. I just don't know how much more of this I can take.

* Breathes *

Despite all my hopes and the need to keep at the forefront of my mind that things will get better; That this for it is only a temporary measure, a small blip on what will hopefully be an extensive lifetime of amazing things - I just hope that this is all worth the wait, worth the purging for and worth the sacrifices we have all had to make so that we can all get back to a bit more normality.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Another year over and done with ...

Afternoon All,  

It goes without saying that last week's blog post was an emotional one and to be honest, the last few weeks have been since Saturday 19th December 2020 when that prat BoJo cancelled Christmas for millions across the Home Counties, despite the Prime Minister saying days beforehand that it would be “inhuman” to do so. 

Following the emergency announcement that our area was going into the most severe of tiers within hours (Tier 4) Mr Warehouse and I had to work out which side of the fence we were going to side with. Were we going to throw caution to the wind, say "fuck you Boris and Corona" and essentially carry on as planned and hope not to get caught out by the law; Or were we going to stick to what Government had advised and simply go without this Christmas in seeing friends and family? We chose the latter however with everything that has happened this year and how much has been stolen from not just me but my family as well, missing out on BBQ's, parties, seeing loved ones, birthdays, new babies, holidays and our damned fucking wedding (which I don't feel totally optimistic about going ahead next year either at the moment) would anyone blame us for wanting to act out?

But alas we did not. After much discussion, deliberation and heated debate (maybe some would call it an argument) Mr Warehouse and I settled on our Christmas 2020 plans. I called the restaurant for our traditional Christmas eve meal and cancelled our booking, something which I have not not done in all my 29 years. I called the venue we were due to visit on and have our Christmas dinner and again cancelled our plans. Boxing day I planned out which places I could still go out and do a spot of retail therapy in preparation for Christmas 2021, hoping it will be better. I booked in at the dentist and planned out "COVID-friendly" things to occupy my time whilst off work between Christmas and New Year - Tidy the spare room, spring clean the house, wallpaper the bedroom and list all those bits on eBay. 

Christmas eve was started watching daytime telly whilst munching on mince pies and a great big mug of coffee, hoping against all hopes that it would fill the hole. It didn't. I wanted nothing more for my morning binge to be interrupted by a news bulletin stating that we got it all wrong or that the PM had a change of heart or something. With Christmas bubbles axed and many areas including London, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire amongst other in the South East in basically fucking lockdown number 3 it was going to be the first time in my entire life that I would not be spending it with my family. I suppose you could even really think of it as the first Christmas I have spent with just my own little family, and maybe the last one as just me and my fiance as next year we anticipate a huge shin-dig and the following year we will hopefully have a little Christmas pudding of our own?

* pukes in mouth for being so sickeningly sweet and wholesome *

That afternoon Mr Warehouse and I went shopping and grabbed some bits for dinner that night and subsequent days in which we should have either been eating out or with others, something I know many other will have experienced in buying in food and bits when they had not expected such expense. Braving the shops and grabbing a few bits I knew we would like for picky-teas and snacking on, I knew that there are many more hundreds of thousands of families that are far worse off than I am and now, like us, they need to try and make the best and scrape together to make Christmas as best as they can. At least we had jobs to pay for the food in our basket. At least we had a roof over our heads. At least Mr Warehouse and I had each other. Rounding off the day with a KFC take-out and a Christmas film we headed to bed and anticipated Santa's arrival in the morning.

Dawn soon broke and after a peaceful sleep, something I have struggled with and still am since the new restrictions were in place, we headed downstairs to start the FaceTimes and WhatsApp video calls. Opening presents and gifts we had received from my Dad and his wife I was delighted with my box of mince pies, Chocolates and Phillip Schofield autobiography (not started it yet and will probably remain on my bookshelf for many months to come until my next holiday). Mr Warehouse also seemed pleased with his beer bread making kit, mint chocolate collection and football memorabilia.

After a long and chilly dog walk with our little one (our older pooch just can't handle long walks anymore and our fear of her hurting herself attempting it just isn't worth the pain of her puppy dog eyes when the leads come out) we stopped by the local village pub and picked up our Christmas dinner takeaway and headed home, gravy daintily positioned on my lap with Mr Warehouse all the while under strict instructions to drive carefully and not spill any of the boiling liquid. Once home we settled in for the afternoon and soon it was time to open my gifts from Mr Warehouse. Copious amounts of gin, a bottle of Baileys, make-up brushes and most of the stock items from LUSH not to mention the much needed and highly anticipated stationary for my new job (which, by this time next week I would have completed my first day in the office - Eeek!) With Christmas dinner done and out the way Mr Warehouse and I cuddled on the sofa with our dogs and binged on Xmas telly.

Truth be told it was a relief to have it all over and done with for another year, just finishing off what a shitty year it has been cannot come fast enough. I cannot begin to tell you how angry and depressed I have felt these last few days. And yes depressed is a strong word however I feel that it is relevant and strong enough for what I and others have and are still feeling. You know I am sure from previous posts and blogs that I do not use the words surrounding depression or mental health lightly and instead hope they add to the gravitas this situation needs. Yes my Christmas was not as bad as I had expected or as worse as I had made out in my head

All this being said however, I need to keep at the forefront of my mind that things will get better than this for it is only a temporary measure. I just hope that this is all worth the wait, worth the purging so that Mr Warehouse and I can finally have the year we were meant to have in 2020.

'Til next year, Love A.Lou xx

The Christmas Corona Cancelled!

Evening one and all,  

I shall put a slight caveat in that I have been drinking. It was my work's Christmas party albeit virtual and I have now drank my £10 allocation of a bottle of cheap rosé and some cocktail mixers. Sorry in advance for whatever ensues I expect it will be an interesting blog of which I may or may not remember in the morning.

As I embark on my final few days at work, It suddenly dawned on me that I was leaving on Friday despite knowing this for some weeks, however, it was not until I was presented with a box of chocolates and a leaving card from a co-worker that I nearly burst into tears all in the knowledge that this would be the final time I was going to see some of them. It is an odd time and especially so given the recent government information and advice which unless you had been hiding under a rock for the last  72 hours means in no uncertain terms that Christmas is well and truly cancelled, despite Boris Johnson saying it would be “inhuman” in earlier interviews. 

In an emergency announcement made early Saturday evening (19th December 2020), Prime Minister Boris Johnson effectively cancelled Christmas gatherings for millions of families in London, Buckinghamshire, Bedford, Bedfordshire, Milton Keynes, Luton, Hertfordshire amongst others as he sought to contain the spread of the Coronavirus pandemic. As put by the Evening Standard - Christmas bubbles have been axed and many areas including London, the South East and the surrounding home countries were slammed into new Tier 4 restrictions (basically fucking lockdown 3.0 dressed up in a nice tidy-twating parcel with a bow on top to make it feel extra cunting Christmassy) after spending at less than 24-hours in Tier 3. The Christmas relaxation for the rest of the country (lucky bastards) was dramatically scaled back to three households being able to meet on Christmas Day alone rather than for five days in England, with Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales their own thing. 

But oh, what a surprise that this has happened. Oh no, who could have predicted it.  Any fucking idiot with a brain could have told you that after locking down for 4-weeks during November the public would be itching to get back to some type of normality indulging in pubs and restaurants not to mention Christmas shopping which had been not possible due to the fact that non-essential shops had been closed. Of course, figures were going to go up, it was inevitable. Also in combination with this, the universities returning back home which, unlike schools, had been mixing with adult peers and sometimes tutors in what were very confined spaces within halls of residence or lecture halls. I very much doubt that Minister's had thought through that these combined issues alone would cause a surge in numbers of the virus.

According to the all-important "science" that the government so incessantly listen to, this comes just as a new fast-spreading variant of Covid-19 was blamed for a surge in cases. The Evening Standard details that Ministers insisted the drastic action was needed to combat the new strain of the virus VUi202012/01 which was said to have been identified first in the UK, mainly in the South East and home counties and according to the newspaper article, nearly 60% of recent new cases in London are believed to be the new strain of the virus, with cases nearly doubling in the past week.

Funny how a new strain of the COVID-19 virus rears its ugly head just before Christmas? No, I do not buy this at all. Despite all of the media scaremongering surrounding it, I call bullshit as it was quite obvious that this virus, which imitates flu-like symptoms, was going to mutate and had started to do so in November, evolving into something far worse than what we have experienced so far this year. Health chiefs have already confirmed that there is no evidence so far that it is more deadly or that vaccines may not work against it. The World Health Organisation recently announced as reported in The Evening Standard article that they are continuing to analyse the available data to improve our understanding but there is no current evidence to suggest the new strain causes a higher mortality rate or that it affects vaccines and treatments although urgent work is underway to confirm this.

Boris Johnson claims that the new virus may be up to 70% more transmissible "according to the science" as he announced the somber new Tier 4 restrictions at the Downing Street press conference. Mr Johnson goes on to say he was taking the actions with a “heavy heart” (oh fuck off - You are telling me you are self-isolating with your fiance and baby within number 10? I very much doubt that and instead, I am sure you will be shipping yourself off to your luxe country retreat somewhere out in a less-infected area). Leaving him with no choice, BoJo says that “Without action, the evidence suggests that infections would soar, hospitals would become overwhelmed and many thousands more would lose their lives". 

The Evening Standard article continued, Sir Keir Starmer, leader of the Labour Party said people were getting “confusion where they need certainty”, and whilst people should follow the Government guidance of their tier, he was really frustrated due to the fact that he had raised the issue to surround increasing numbers and a new strain of the virus with the Prime Minister and it was dismissed telling people to have a merry little Christmas – only three days later to rip up their plans. In a statement to The Evening Standard, Keir Starmer said: "I think the British public is entitled to more decisive leadership than that.”

Continuing the blonde-haired baffoon said, "Christmas this year will be different, very different, but we’re sacrificing the chance to see our loved ones this Christmas so that we have a better chance of protecting their lives so that we can see them at future Christmases.”  But who is anyone to guarantee that next Christmas we will be spending it with all of those that are here this year? No one. Last year I did not think I would my Scottish grandmother on my mother's side was not going to be here. Obviously, it was inevitable since she was over the age of 80 and had spent most of the last quarter of the year bedbound, however, I still expected her to still be at my wedding and to maybe even make it to see her first great-grandchild. And for that reason alone I am against this whole statement. Boris nor anyone else can guarantee that your loved ones will be here next year, elderly or not.

At the end of the day, I know, as I always have, that there are many more hundreds of thousands of families that are far worse off than I am. Parents who have not been able to provide their children with the Christmas experience they had hoped for. People who have been self-isolating themselves for several weeks now in the anticipation that they will get to see Grandma or Grandpa for the first time in months and possibly for the last time, only to have it snatched away from them at the last moment. Families who had been expecting to spend the big day with loved ones and sharing food which they would have otherwise not being able to afford due to being furloughed or even worse losing their jobs entirely. Now, like us, they need to try and make the best and scrape together to make Christmas as best as they can.

I cannot tell you how low I have been feeling since the news on Saturday, however, I need to keep at the forefront of my mind that things will get better than this for it is only a temporary measure. I know for a fact people were bending the rules to suit them beforehand and now that we are back in essentially what is lockdown again I think the public has well and truly had enough and as a result will break the rules even more-so than they would have if rules had not changed. I just hope that I can stand there on the 12th of June and know that all of this was well worth the sacrifice.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Some things never change.

Good Evening, 

One week ago I sat here writing to you from my sofa, anxious in anticipation for my grandmothers funeral. I was dreading it and more than most for a multitude of reasons. Now I know that no one ever looks forward to funerals, but this one will be especially fraught with emotions, and, as with last time, the tension and anxiety will be riding high. I laugh to myself now as I write this to you, it seems that funerals, whilst are not the happiest of occasions, always seem to be dogged for me with huge anxieties and bouts of doubt and uncertainty about myself. And this time will be no different. 

As with Granddad's funeral just over two years ago now almost to the day, I recall waking up on the morning of the funeral. I could see the bright May day beaming in through the spare room window across the hallway. And just as before, I wanted to curl up in my duvet, hide away and pretend that today was not happening. Instead, I pulled myself from slumber, my Puppy for once being kinder to me this morning and not jumping on me as he normally would, affectionate little licks to gently encourage me to get up and along with the day. Isn't it funny how animals sense these things, especially so when they come and cuddle up next to you on the sofa as you write this?

As normal, or at least as normal could be I dropped Mr Warehouse at work and headed home for a strong coffee and mind-numbing telly. Soon enough though it was time to get ready. Dressing in a black long-sleeved soft jersey wrap dress, nude tights and black heels I was all set. Hair in a plaited nape bun and fascinator fixed in place I got in the car ready to go. The journey was quiet as I thought about the attendants, my mother and brother, both of whom I had not seen since the last family funeral when I first started dating Mr Warehouse. Its been five years.  

"I suppose," I thought, "on a positive note, the Coronavirus pandemic means she can't come within 2-metres of you". I smiled at the thought. Soon enough we were approaching my Hometown and as we turned into the neighbouring street of my old family home I saw the hurse pull in front of us. Mr Warehouse asked if that was Nanna, or if it could be someone else, but as the vehicle in front took a left, I was certain she was making one last visit to the church before heading home. As the car slowed coming into Nanna's house, Mr Warehouse rested his hand on my thigh and gave me a sweet and gentle squeeze. Stopping the car he motioned if I was OK. I would be, I just needed to get today over and done with, as we all did. 

I could see some familiar faces amongst the people who had come and seen her off. Neighbours, friends and family all there for one last goodbye. My eyes fell to my Nanny Pumpkin and Uncle Africa from Ireland who was now staying with my Nanny Pumpkin (don't ask, easier not to get into it). Immediately I made a beeline for them as I knew they were my safety net, there for me and my family. I spoke with Uncle Golf a little and his younger brother, my Uncle KON. I went to see how my Auntie DD was holding up and my cousin too. At only just a teenager, this was a lot to handle. I can't imagine the pain he must be going through, especially after seeing her pretty much once or twice a week since he was born. The shock of seeing a coffin in the flesh (excuse the pun, but Nanna would have appreciated it) for the first time can be overwhelming and a bit much, especially for someone so young. 

My fiance and I took him aside for a second to console him, showing him the beautiful flower arrangement I had made on behalf of the grandchildren, my brother included as he sheepishly stood in the background with my mother, too ashamed to raise his head above the parapet I expect. After speaking with Auntie DD several weeks ago, It had been suggested to do something similar to my Granddad's funeral. Obviously, I included my brother, texting him last week to let him know of the plans and if he would like to be included he was more than welcome. Of course, he never replied, and of course, I still put his name to it as he was and still is the grandson of the dearly departed, despite not showing an ounce of remorse for not showing himself in the final few months and years of her life. I only wish he could man up and just be apart of this rather than hiding in her shadow. 

As 1pm approached we all headed into our cars, out of the way of the biting cold that she [Nanna] had cast over us from Scotland. Pulling away from her home, my thoughts turned to the next part of today. At the graveside, I was going to say a few words as I had divulged in last weeks blog post. Since there was going to be no church service due to the Coronavirus outbreak (even after Boris' announcement yesterday) there was a need to pack the occasion out and make it feel more than just a box and hole situation. As expected, my poor cousin was in no fit state to say anything let alone put words together in order to form a sentence in front of everyone and so the suggestion of something lighter about our time as grandchildren with Nanna was definitely best left to her memorial ceremony and celebration hopefully in a few months time when all of this is over. 

Pulling into the Cemetary I could see my father's car which gave me great comfort to know he was here, mostly because of the "am I, aren't I" conversations we had a few times over the last few weeks. Regardless of if he came or didn't, there would be backlash either way. My father would have been ridiculed for showing his face and coming if he had turned up and equally would have been bad-mouthed had he not come to the funeral of a woman that was once your mother-in-law. My Dad, accompanied by his new wife, was there to support me and my Auntie and Uncle's as well as my brother. Standing in the background I was glad of his presence. 

Moments later, in the freezing cold with the sun shining, I read from the freshly printed pages my monologue as posted last week. It went down well. Very well in fact, my uncle passing comment about not being about to follow such a touching tribute which I thought was lovely, especially considering how much I pawed over it and fretted about its broadcast. The moments slid by as we watched her be lowered into her final resting place, next to Granda, and soon we all started to dissipate into the Cemetary. 

All was well and we bid goodbye to close family and family friends with promises of meeting again once this Lockdown had lifted Mr Warehouse and I headed for the car. Uncle Africa wanted to speak with my mother and brother, alone, and so had asked if I could take my Nanny Pumpkin home. This delayed my catch-up with Miss Tweedle-Dee, something I was going to need after all this, but I was happy to assist as I knew that some stern words would need to be had. Although just before we left, my father made a bold move by walking in their direction. Before I knew what was happening (and truth be told I still don't) I heard my mothers voice ring out across the small parking lot. 
"BACK OFF" She bellowed, screeching at my father and holding a firm hand up in protection. Of her? Of her son? Who knows. All I do know is that my father only wanted to speak with his son and offer both him and his ex-wife his condolences. 

Sadly it seems as all the years have rolled by, the anger and searing pain are still raw. My brother is still hurting and my mother is still her old self, melodramatic and over the top. I just wish that we could all be civil. Enough time has passed for us to all get over ourselves and just accept that in certain situations we need to put things like this aside. Obviously, my mother never got that memo and instead embarrassed not only herself, but also my brother, who seems to have grown just as bitter and hateful as she is. Some things never change ...  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Love Like Nothing Else

Hello, 

Sitting here and writing to you I know I am less than a week from my grandmothers funeral. I am dreading it. More than most and because of a multitude of reasons. To think that this time next week it will all be over and done with, all said and done, with only the memorial service to complete the mourning process. I know that no one ever looks forward to funerals, but this one will be especially fraught with emotions. 

I recall the feeling on the morning of my Grandfather's funeral just over two years ago now almost to the day, waking up on the morning of the funeral in the flat Mr Warehouse and I shared, way before mortgages and new puppies were a thing. With the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hedge outside, I just wanted to hide away and pretend that today was not happening at all, probably not helped by my rapidly deteriorating mental state at the time. I remembered with chills running along my arm hiding my head under the covers as Mr. Warehouse told me that this was a normal feeling and it would soon pass, something he had already been through several years earlier with his own Granddad whom he was very, very close with. 

And now, all of that will come again only as with last time, there will be tension and anxiety riding high. I laugh to myself now as I write this to you, it seems that funerals, whilst are not the happiest of occasions, always seem to be dogged for me with huge anxieties and bouts of doubt and uncertainty about myself. And this time will be no different. 

On a positive note, the COVID-19 Coronavirus pandemic following the strict social distancing measures introduced at the end of March, the daily death toll started to slow into April, before gradually starting to come down just before Easter. Today another 288 deaths were announced which marks the lowest daily figure since 29 March this year. Speaking at the government's daily news conference today the BBC reported that the deputy chief medical officer for England, said that it was now "very clear in the data that we are past the peak" which can only mean that we are somewhat of a step closer to all of this being over. 

That being said however is a good thing as more people than originally thought are able to attend Nanna's funeral meaning it can be a bit more normal than planned. Another positive that this has brought about is how much closer I feel to Auntie DD (my mother's sister) and Uncle Golf. With both of them planning everything and sorting out her house I felt the need to try and support them and be with them as much as I can be at the distance of 2 metres of course. Phone calls every couple of days and catch-ups over WhatsApp really help to feel connected in a way. It's nice. Especially when things were so different and awkward throughout my parent's divorce and the earlier years of me being kicked out. 

So much closer we have gotten, I had suggested doing something similar to my Granddad's funeral and donating or making a wreath from the grandchildren. Obviously, I included my brother, texting him last week to let him know of the plans and if he would like to be included he was more than welcome. Of course, he never replied, and of course, I will still put his name on it as he was and still is the grandson of the dearly departed. I only wish he could man up and just be apart of this. Along with this, my Auntie DD asked if I would like to say a few words at the graveside, moreso to pack it out and make it feel more than just a box and hole situation.  I suggested something similar to funny tales and stories about my time with Nanna from myself and my cousin, and my brother too, as an anecdotal tonic to the harshness of the setting. However, after much care and consideration, I did not think that my cousin ould be up for talking, especially when it is so raw and fresh. I am hoping however we can put something together for her memorial ceremony and celebrate Nanna's life, rather than mourn for it. 

But I still felt as though I wanted to say something. And so, with my wedding less than a handful of months away now, I turned to some of my fondest memories and stories about Nanna's very own love of her life, Granda. And therein lays my inspiration. It didn't take long, and in my mind, cannot be a more fitting tribute as a tale that will live on forever ... 

Love can be found in all types of strange places. Some find it at work in offices and warehouses, stealing kisses and cuddles in the canteen. Some find it in pubs and clubs under the bright lights and heart-pounding music. Some even find it online and in the future, who knows where my children or grandchildren will meet their true love. 

But sometimes you don’t find love, but moreso, it finds you. Sometimes it can be closer to home than you think. When Granda went to stay with a family friend and her family whilst he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England, never could he have imagined he would meet the love of his life.

After getting to know the family and the beautiful but feisty young women that was Nanna, work took Granda elsewhere, but before he had left he made certain that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks passed when Nanna's very own Granny fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, my Nanna started writing to Granda and soon enough they were writing every week to one another and over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger with every letter that the postie brought.  

Just over a year after meeting, fate brought work for Granda back to the Scottish borders and once more they reunited. But this time Granda had something incredibly special he wanted to ask. After a wonderful day together my Granda plucked up the courage and asked Nanna for her hand in marriage. But alas as the wonderful news and exciting update was marred by the differing religious backgrounds and beliefs of their families. Granda was Protestant and Nanna was Catholic.

On hearing the news, Nanna's parents were less than happy for the newly engaged couple and refused the relationship forcibly stopping it from going any further. Several months later after multiple letters to Granda whilst he was away working with no response Nanna went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bus from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, every little feeling came rushing back and lit a fire so bright it burned for decades. It was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring.

Telling Nanna’s parents was not easy and after moving away to be closer to her future husband she had upset her family greatly. So much so that by the time their wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up. Nanna was not walked down the aisle by her father and was not doted on by her mother in the hours before the ceremony. Nanna dismissed the traditional white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan. Every person present that day, standing outside the Church in Oxford was from Granda's side of the family and a handful of friends.

In the years that followed, the black and white wedding photos were a placement in the many homes where they created and grew their family, bickering and arguing all the way. But soon enough, there comes a time for us all and even as Nanna raced to the hospital to be by her husbands’ side in his final moments on earth, she knew the exact moment he was gone. “It was like I could hear his last breath” she used to tell me, reliving the tales and stories she was so fond of telling over and over again.

For me, one thing is for certain. Once you have found that one special person, there is very little that will pull you apart. No wedge that can be placed between you. No tie that can severed. Like the blossoming of Wisteria, you become not only enchanted and curious with each other but fascinated and infatuated, love drunk, giddy with excitement and adventure. And then, before you know it, your lives are so tightly intertwined you are but one beautiful soul with a bond so strong, not even death can keep you apart.

It will be sad not to have you both there on my wedding day in a few months’ time, watching from the sidelines as me and my husband take our first few steps into married life and all that it brings. But I know you will be there, somewhere in the faces as we take our vows and have our first dance. For that is what I hope for. A love like no other. Mickey and Minnie. Romeo and Juliet. My Nanna and Granda – A love story like no other and a tale to be told forevermore… 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx