Father's Day Fail

Afternoon Everyone, 

This weekend we celebrate in style Dads of all shapes and sizes. Some people have Dad's. Some people have Fathers. Some people have Daddy's. Some people have Sugar-Daddy's. Some people have no Dad. Some people have two Dad's. Some people have Step Dad's. I just had a Dad. He is not the best or the most amazing, but he tries and that is all I can ask. Over the last few years, we have had our difficulties and troubles, but I am proud to say we have worked through them. 

To celebrate I booked a table yesterday at the Beefeater at Priory Country Park in Bedford for a nice meal. It was anything but. Arriving, My Dad, his wife, Mr Warehouse and I all waited the nearly twenty-minute wait patiently just get into the pub. The problems began almost immediately. It took 20-minutes for someone to come and take our drinks order. After the drinks arrived, it was a further 45-minutes before we had to physically ask someone to come and take our food order. We did this twice as we were told that “someone would be with you soon” however of course, "no one was with us soon". 

Laughing and chatting it became a little more pressing considering we only had the table for an hour and a half so after another 10-minutes and with most of the staff now actively avoiding walking past our table and our gazes, we had to stop another waitress and ask them to please come and take our food order. All was not over then as once we placed our food order it was another 40-minutes before the food finally arrived and even then, it was far below the bare basic of expectations. 

Dad’s wife had a beef roast dinner and the beef was very thickly cut and had scorch marks on it from a griddle. WHY?! Surely. as roast beef, it should be carved off the main joint and served not griddled to the point of it being so thick and chewy she had to leave most of it as it was quote “like eating corrugated cardboard”. 

It didn’t get much better with Dad’s meal. Ordering the ribs he expected, as written on the menu, to have an accompaniment of coleslaw which was not on the plate when it arrived. We had to collar a waiter and asked if we can have this brought out. He explained that the meal doesn’t come with it and left. Feeling stupid, we all then relooked at the menu, just to check we were correct and, sure enough, it confirmed that yes, the rib's did come with a side of coleslaw. Yet again, we called over another member of the waiting staff and explained that our meal was missing the coleslaw. They too questioned it and said we would be charged for the side of coleslaw and we yet again for a third time had to explain the menu to your members of staff. 

"Oh my god, Honestly what is wrong with this place," I thought to myself as the coleslaw was soon delivered to the table. "Surely it can't get worse than this" were my famous last words it seems as I unwrapped my knife and fork. 

Mr Warehouse and I ordered the same meal, the “our best” mixed grill which was far from the best and if that really is their “best” then as a company I think they may need to reword it to “we-don’t-give-a-shit-too-much”-Mixed Grill. as our meal's arrived with no way of telling which was which. I had ordered a rare steak and yet mine was medium-rare. Mr Warehouse ordered medium and yet his steak was well-done to the point of being charred. 

Unfortunately, I cannot say that this is the end of our issues as there are sadly still more, we had to endure. Yet again as with Dad’s meal, Mr Warehouse and I also had items missing including, our poached eggs which, when asked, we received very quickly. It was obvious they were not cooked fresh to order and instead of the soft, runny yolks we had asked for we were instead presented with poached eggs slopped onto a plate with little care or thought and with yolks on par with a fucking golf ball, cooked right the way through and had clearly been sat for a while under the hot plate.

In all honesty, it was getting beyond a joke now. With the exception of my Dad's ribs, all of our meals were burnt so much so I could not finish mine for tasting like coal. If I wanted to taste ash and char I would have gone outside and licked an ashtray. At this point we were all in two minds as to even order pudding due to the absolutely abysmally poor service, however we took a chance that there may be some reclaim, considering most desserts are quite quick and easy so mistakes should be pretty much non-existent. Not the case. 

We waited again quite some time for desserts to arrive and even then, the time we had to wait had clearly not been used on presentation as my dessert fell apart instantly before the “chocolate melting bomb surprise” could be revealed. Dad’s wife had her coffee arrive before her dessert when they were meant to arrive together. By the time her dessert arrived, a small and poorly cut slice of chocolate mousse cake, the coffee was almost gone. This should, as detailed in the menu be brought out together and not separate.

It had truthfully got to the point of laughable now as we sat for a further 30-40 mins before we had to again ask a server to pay our bill. Honestly, they were lucky that we even paid for our meal as I was fuming to the point of which I was about to say let's just get up and walk out, without paying. After getting our second bill as the first one was incorrect (I mean you literally can't even make this shit up at this point) I set aside my card and awaited the card machine in order to pay our £73-odd bill. AGAIN we had to wait a long while with no one checking in on us before we had to ask more waiting staff to come with the card machine so we could pay and finally leave.

On arrival with the card machine came another bill, this time showing the “correct” figure as the waitress had said that the second calculated bill did not include drinks or dessert?! The bill was incorrect again! She asked me to check the new £90+ bill to make sure it was correct – Despite it being HER JOB! Furious I paid and left immediately. I prayed that they would ask me how my day had been or how was the meal so I could let rip and crumble from my calm and polite demeanour. 

Now I get that COVID has had a huge impact on the hospitality industry with monies lost every single day the doors have been shut, but there is no excusing this level of shocking service. It could have been excused if maybe it was one or two things that had slipped up, but at every point in our experience, it was atrocious. At no point were we checked in on. At no point were we asked if everything was OK. At no point were we asked if we needed anything else. We literally had to ask for everything from the moment we stepped inside to the moment we left. 

Now I get that it wasn't that poor girl's fault necessarily for all of the failings, but Jesus come on! I just felt like saying "GET IT TOGETHER PEOPLE"! It could have been excused if maybe it was the first opening weekend or even the first few weeks, but places like this have been open for some time now. Things like this should not be happening. I mean it's not as if these places haven’t had a year to prepare for Father’s Day 2021?! 

I was honestly so embarrassed. I get that I am eating in a family-friendly chain restaurant and not The Ritz, but this was meant to be, as for a lot of people, a very special Father’s Day meal out with my Dad whom I had not seen in some time and yet it was an absolute shambles. It was nice seeing them but I can truthfully say hand on heart that there was nothing, absolutely nothing at all, that I enjoyed about yesterday’s meal and I know that my Dad, his wife and my fiancé all feel exactly the same.

This morning I tried calling through to the 0333 number online, however, after nearly an hour on hold I gave up and instead wrote a disgruntled letter in less time it took for them to answer my call. I hope that the Beefeater we went to were just on a bum day and that this was just a one-off (despite getting it wrong, on many levels, over seventeen times) and that other people had a lovely day with their Dad, or Dads, or Step-Dad's or Daddy's or even more so to those lucky fuckers with Sugar-Daddy's. Happy Fathers Day to one and all. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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A Step Back In Time ...

Good Evening, 

Walking into the public house, I thought to myself about how you could have quite easily missed bit if you have not been looking. A cold November afternoon wintered on outside as I took off my coat and got settled. Looking around at the compact bar area where many of the local residents drank the afternoon away in merriment I noticed the bunting of red, white and blue, Union Jacks proudly hung from the walls and somewhere there was a picture of the queen hanging proudly for all to see. It certainly didn't take long to hear the beautiful voices of the 30's, 40's and 50's serenading us all into a singsong. 

On a quiet and rather unassuming street down by a local park frequented in this day and age by dog walkers and joggers alike, The Devonshire Arms in Bedford's Dudley Street is probably one of my favourite pubs I have been to in a long while. There is something about the place that speaks to an inner, deeper part of my soul that as a twenty-six year old I cannot explain as to why. There was something about this pub, something about this day, Remembrance Sunday, that seems ever so poignant for me. The icy cold air of a November morning awaiting my father and his men (and now some women). The feel of pride that swells within me from my military heritage and background. The absolute sorrow and sadness of those left behind by the brutal snatching's of war and conflict. All balanced out by the warmth I found myself in The Devonshire Arms on Sunday afternoon. 

Accompanying my father whilst he collected a generous gift donation from the local boozer, Mr. Warehouse and I, along with the dog as well trundled into the rather busy public house following the Remembrance parade along the river. I had visited the bar a couple of times before, both with Mr. Cheese as our first date and as also an "ultimatum date" in the following spring. It had seemed nice then, both in the height of summer. But walking in here today seemed all the more different. Maybe, as I said before it was the decor and bunting and singers, but a part of me feels the same way about the The Devonshire Arms as I do about the Hotel Victoria from a previous blog post from last year "Newquay - New Life?". You see I fall in love easily (most of the time anyway) more-so with things than people, and strangely buildings are one of them. I seem to resonate with older more Victorian buildings, maybe one of the reasons I am writing to you now from a early 19th Century converted townhouse. I am somewhat fascinated by there history and the moments that their walls saw. I feel there energy and I want to experience and feel the times in which it cried and laughed. And to think that this is all from building's I barely knew.  

Maybe more recent films like Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Allied and Dunkirk have awoken a part of me that lay rather dormant for a while and only now am I exploring its possibilities. Many people, including Miss Tweedle-Dee and I believe in the phenomena that is past life. I would love to go to someone genuine and have my future read, but even more-so my past. I have a deep rooted uneasy feeling about deep water and whilst I love travelling the idea of a cruise makes me more than anxious. Is this because of my fixation with the Titanic as I have done ever since I was small or is this because I maybe was a part of something bigger in my past life? I also have a obsession with murder and horrific crimes including the work (if you can call it that) of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and Josef Fritzl. Does this mean in a past life I had something to fear from these people? Notice how they are all men - Does that mean something? I don't know. I am so intrigued by this that I have begun to look into the possibilities of time slips, past life regression and even Deja Vu focusing on the premise that Deja Vu, at least in one of my opinions, is where you link seemingly unrelated things in your current life with these that you previously did, talked about or that happened in a previous time. 

Whatever the reasoning I felt a connection to The Devonshire Arms. Perhaps the atmosphere took me away on the sweet notes of the post-war karaoke and cosy nature of the establishment, or maybe, just maybe. Had I been madly in love with my sweetheart when they were taken to war only to experience the heartbreak when the earth shattering news came back that they were never coming home, forever destined to spend my nights drowning my sorrows at the bar. Was I one of the lucky ones whose soldier came home albeit changed forever but so happy to see me we embraced for eternity. Had I been a mother who lost their son to the battlefield and sat in the corner awaiting the postman, pleadingly with a letter to let her know that her boy was OK, both feeling the screaming horror or tearful joy that may follow. Maybe I was another parent saying preparing my child for a swift goodbye at the station ready for their new life away from the bombings in cities and towns, knowing you may never kiss them goodnight again. Or could I have been the one with the box round my neck and a suitcase to match. Or maybe it is just my fantasy. My Imagination. My Creativity. Whatever it may be, Lest we Forget those fallen ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Crime-Scene in My Pants

Evening one and all, 

So after a long and stressful week I was certainly looking forward to the weekend and a much deserved bottle or two. Settling into the drivers seat outside TESCO as I prepared for the journey home, snacking on some ham since I had been hungry since missing my lunch that day. Suddenly walking past the front of my little Viv I noticed my Dad, and, clocking one another I was certainly glad for what ensued. Several hours later we had touched on many a subject including marriage, travelling and home buying, something until only recently I had sought some professional advice about. I think that everything last week had seemed like a challenge and that I wasn't going anywhere and that getting to where I wanted to be, especially on the property ladder, seemed out and out so un-achievable unless I came into a great deal of money or spent the next decade saving. Seeing Dad was lovely and the heart to heart conversations was what I severely missed in my relationship with him. Pop's probably doesn't even realise it but our meeting was really cathartic and meant a great deal to me, even if it was unplanned. 

Seeing Family over the weekend also cheered me up no end, especially my cousins. Aged eleven and twelve, both boys are starting to learn about the world and how it works, and during the course of Saturday I was taught the difference between all the difference levels of Cannabis on the spectrum of hallucinogenics and how these days, schools tend not to bother with the whole banana and condom trick. Oh no! Kids nower days are given full blown Dildo's (And yes my cousin did shout the word dildo several times in the middle of Costa Coffee) and made to put a condom on. The world has come a long way since 2001 I thought. 

Back in the day the lad's and ladies were separated in order to learn about their bodies, but we were never shown or taught what the other had to endure. Ergo, we had the era of the period jokes and a crude fascination with the opposite sex. I would have loved to be a fly on a wall in that room, hearing all about inappropriate boners and what semen contains. I suppose as a boy is may have been equally interesting listening into tits and fannies for half hour every Thursday afternoon. 

In this time frame all the girls were handed a booklet about our body and how it changes in preparation for periods and the eventuality of childbirth. This was my actual nightmare beginning. I hated,  and still do, talking about periods openly. It is something private and whilst every women aged fifteen to fifty does it I still feel a twinge of cringe when I open up about bleeding 'downstairs'. I don't laugh and period puns and can hardly stand it buying tampons or pads, forcing them through the self-scan at TESCO like some strange lady with a weird body function to hide. Its embarrassing - Both being so ashamed of it and actually having to put up with altering your life for however many days in the month. I am lucky in a way that I never suffered at the hands of cramping or major mood swings like some of my friends in the playground, however I think every girl will admit to remembering those dark days when you didn't know how to manage it. Spills, accidents and leaks were something I loathed but in a way I was grateful because it meant that someday I could have my own children and in  way I have now come to accept that it is something natural and normal. 

I will still try to hide away when someone reminds me of that scene in a Rom-Com somewhere, I think its called 'No Strings Attached' (which is ironically funny when I tell you where this is going). Ashton Kutcher (love of my life) makes a period mix-tape and brings round cupcakes for all his Bae's friends, including one friend who describes her period as "A Crime-Scene in My Pants". On this mix-tape including old favourites such as Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis, Red Red Wine by UB40 and The Tide Is High by Atomic Kitten (or Blondie, if your so inclined). As cringe as that was it does go on and the full track listing can be found online. Cute, cringe and bile-inducing all at the same time is hard, but somehow Ashton nails it ... And me if he is in Bedford any time soon!

Back in the classroom the time soon comes when both the classes were combined, adding to the social awkwardness, both for students and teachers alike. Settling an unruly class is one thing, but trying in-vain to teach them about the birds and the bees was another, and so most teachers at my small town Middle School chose to simple put in a VHS they had recorded from a teachers Satellite channel in the late, late hours (Yes I did just say VHS). 

But I must confess that in the whole history of me being in school, both middle and high, the majority if not all of the things I learnt and picked up weren't from phallic shaped fruits or dodgy home-recorded videos, It was from friends (Miss Tweedle-Dee deserves a shut out here as my main provider of such material and knowledge), late night babe channels and sadly porn. I think that teaching kids younger about what is right and wrong in relationships is and can only be a good thing. Starting them off young, telling them about the Pant Rule and showing them about how good relationships work is crucial in bringing down the number of Rapes, teen and unwanted pregnancies as well as STI's and non-abusive relationships. It can only get better and as on the continent shows that good things come from starting them off early with preventative education and serious chats about well-being. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Do's And Dont's of Dog Ownership

Heyy, 

Last week was finally over on Friday and it couldn't have come soon enough for me and my other office colleagues. With our big-big boss away on Holiday, sunning it up in Dubai we were left to finish up month end ourselves, which I think, went better than everyone was expecting. 

A relaxing weekend has ensued over in the Bedfordshire Countryside surround Mr. Warehouse's family home of Marston Moretaine. I was expecting to meet up with my father for the first time this weekend but for one reason or another it wasn't convenient so we have rearranged for next Saturday so watch this space, but with it being Mr. Warehouse's birthday on Thursday, this weekend was meant to be all about him not me and my father. Anyway, I am sure I can cram it all in.

A little overcast for a weekend that was due to be hot and sunny we nevertheless enjoyed the time we had together, spending it with Momma Warehouse, the Dog and on Saturday we had the pleasure of meeting Momma Warehouse's new boyfriend. Seemingly lovely and polite he was a pleasure to be in company with, talkative and very nice to be around. However whilst there was little or no disagreements or altercations, I would consider his choice in dog ownership something of a sticking point for me. 

Now most people will know, or at least should do - Especially if you have a doggy in your life, that chocolate of any sort is poisonous to our canine friends. Chocolate and products containing Cocoa are very bad for doggies, not only potentially making them fat but also because of the dangerous toxins in them. Theobromine is a chemical found in Chocolate and Cocoa and unlike humans, dogs struggle to digest it making them poorly as toxins build up in their bodies. Milk can also make your pooch sick as some dogs are lactose-intolerant and unable to process dairy in the same way we humans can. Not that you should really give your dog any human food but some of the most harmful treats are not just Chocolate and Cocoa products, but also Grapes, Macadamia Nuts, Corn-on-the-Cob and anything from the Onion and Garlic family food groups. 

Nevertheless this did not stop Momma Warehouse from telling us that her new boyfriend feeds his little toy poodle White Chocolate 'MilkyBar' Buttons. Mr Warehouse and I agreed already that even before we met him it was frustrating that he appeared not to care for his dog in the right way. But that was my opinion and in all fairness throughout the whole weekend whilst I noticed the 'MilkyBar' Buttons in the fridge, I did not see them being administered. But as well as the sixteen-year-old (one-hundred-and-twelve dog years) fluff ball being fed 'MilkyBar' Buttons, she was also not fed proper meals and instead was hand-fed treats of dried duck breast and chews, something again Mr. Warehouse and I frowned upon. 

I suppose I cannot judge too much as if I am honest both Mr. Warehouse and I both give our dog lots of tit-bits and treats from our dinner plates and in all fairness anything that is left over and not poisonous to dogs, goes in her bowl for the next mornings breakfast anyway. She wont eat much vegetables or fruit but loves bread products and pasta, but always in small portions so as not to get fat. In a way I suppose were all guilty of over-loving our animals, children and partners sometimes, feeding them with love and food that they simply do not need. 

On the Saturday afternoon however we needed to pop down the shops for some essentials the next morning and so as normal we went to get Mr. Warehouse's Dog, but as we got her harness ready and strapped her in, we heard a whimper and a yelp. Followed by yet more cries we figured it was coming from the elderly toy poodle. She wanted to come and play with our Pooch! ''Awwh a little play date'' I thought. Looking up at her owner, Momma Warehouse's new boyfriend, I said that if she wanted to come she was more than welcome too. With some brief reassurances I was handed the lead and off we went. I was shocked and surprised to see that this little old doggy lady was as fast and as rambunctious as our eight-year-old-Labrador, able to keep up and run along side us all as we walked the road to the corner shop and back. It fills me with hope when I think back to that Saturday afternoon walk that maybe our poochie-poo's wont die young and could live to be the ripe old age of sixteen and more.

He was however a gentleman through and through and even helped me by driving to Milton Keynes to get my phone fixed and collect a replacement so I suppose he isn't all bad and if his dog has lived to be over one-hundred in dog years then he is obviously doing something right. So nice is he, that I have even invited him to my Birthday Party in a few weeks and look forward to hopefully seeing more of him about. Maybe this one is a keeper - For Momma Warehouse obviously ... Not me?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

If Your Prescence Adds No Value, Then Your Absence Will Not Be Missed

Hiya, 

This time last week I was writing to you all from the grandeur and beauty of mine and Mr. Warehouse's room at the Hotel Victoria conveniently located along the Cornish coastline, right in the heart of Newquay. This time next week I shall be writing to you all hopefully poolside from mine and the Tweedles apartment in (hopefully) sunny Lanzarote, Canary Islands. Oh what a jet setting life I lead! But all that holibobbing doesn't fix some things which was evident this week. 

After not hearing anything from my father in weeks since calling him in agony asking for his help and not receiving it I had refused to answer his pathetic attempts at conversation and apart from a few crumby phone calls when he wasn't already preoccupied that I ignored I had received nothing - Not even an apology. Friday afternoon though, I got a text message asking me to talk to my Dad and explain why I was upset with him. 'Thank fuck for that' I thought 'Finally he gets it and understands why I was (and still am) so upset with him'! I replied something that I thought made the point but also explained that I would not let this ruin our relationship anymore than it already had been. 

"I would have thought it was obvious why I did not want to speak with you after the last time we spoke I had asked for your help when I was in severe pain and you didn't help me at all. No I acknowledge that by the time you got to me I could have got to where I needed to go to get help and be back at home all by the time you had even reached my flat, but what I cannot understand is that after knowing my financial situation what with Mr. Warehouse being out of work as well as the current medical difficulty I was in also, you still chose not to help me. This is not the first time that I have asked for your help and it had not been received, but I can assure you that it will be the last as I will not be asking for your help anymore as I simply cannot rely on you as a daughter should be her Dad. I am still upset and angry but I will see you this weekend I am sure at the family BBQ, but just know that whilst I will be civil and polite to you, your priorities are in all the wrong order and some changes need to be made. xxx" I wrote, emotional but glad I was able to say everything I needed too. Fifteen minutes later I received this reply:
"Right. Now you have had your little rant and said what you want to say - Believe me, my priorities are in good order, but I am deeply embarrassed by you and your actions. I have done everything to assist you and help you where I can and by the best means I have available, and yet you still throw shit in my face. My girlfriend and her family has shown you nothing but love and gratitude from day one and it is YOU who chooses to ignore them and that you do well. She tries to call or text you to give you advice from a female perspective, but you are rude and fail to see that others care for you as well as me. You are all about yourself and what you can get from others. I love you to the end of the world and back but you still wish to make my life hell after the divorce. I thought that WE had put this shit to bed years ago, but there it is sitting under your radar ready to throw at me again. As for you being ill, I was VERY concerned as it was me that called you everyday to see how you were, but you never answered and you never call me, do you? I could not have taken you to the hospital any quicker that a Taxi could have. YOU MADAM have a wonderful boyfriend who loves and cares for you and I could have done nothing to help other than what I did - Sorry it was not enough. You should take a long hard look in the mirror and think long and hard about what you want from life and who you want to spend/share it with because from where I am sitting I am very happy. I don't need enemies in my life but if they are there I know how to handle them. What I love in my life is my partner, daughter, our families and a few choice friends."

Shocked and stunned at what I was reading I drank my coffee as I waited for Miss Stuu to collect me and go to Dinner with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee who were shopping in Milton Keynes. Calling my Auntie for advice she backed up everything I thought about myself, the situation and my life as I know it so far. But as I discussed it round the table with my girlfriends I knew that something was not right. Getting home that night I fell into Mr. Warehouse's arms and sobbed, explaining what a terrible message I had received and why my life was so pants when it came to parental guidance. 

Your Parents are meant to be there throughout everything. Like "Fuck - Mom, I'm Pregnant!" or "Dad I really need your help - I'm in serious trouble" it would always be your parents that you turn to first. Whether its because you have spent all your food money in the first week of Freshers or because you got arrested for doing something unlawful, your parents should always be there for you, supporting you in any and every way they can, be it mentally, emotionally or even financially. That is there job - Right? At least that is what I thought anyway. Obviously I am incorrect in my way of thinking. Now yes, I do acknowledge that I am twenty-four, but I still need me Mam and Dad. Doesn't matter how old you get, there will always be an excuse to go out for some shopping and a cheeky afternoon tea with your mom whilst you bitch about the girls or how shitty your ex was. There will always be a time where you Dad endearingly threatens to beat up a purely-platonic, male-friend of yours, just in case he breaks my heart. Not for me. 

It used to make me so sad when I watched programmes about weddings and saw ladies planning their dream day with their mothers or having girlie pamper nights watching chick flicks with lots of naughty treats. Slowly over time I have had no choice but to accept that my friends and co-workers will have this, but I will not. Over time I have understood this is something through no fault of mine I cannot have. Or at least I thought so. But now with my Father also acting in a way that is progressively shutting me out as the years go on I am starting to wonder if it is me? What did I honestly do wrong to deserve this? What in a past life of mine did I do so wrong that I was dealt not just one lemon, but a whole fucking truck load? 

I have other friends and family members around me that can fill that space, but the principal is that they shouldn't have to. He is my Dad and should step up and be one, not pushing me aside until it suits him. Sometimes I am grateful that my baby Brother (although at twenty this year he is not so little anymore) is not involved in this mess, for if our Dad can barely stretch his time to see or help me then what hope would he have?! In a way I think I can handle it and deal with it on a level, but why should I? Why should I have to put up with the lame excuses why he can't see me or why he isn't able to help me out. No more. Suffice to say the BBQ the follwoing afternoon was a tad frosty and whilst we spoke a few words to each other I was not in any way going to stick my neck out on the line and offer an olive branch.

I will never know why my Dad is "embarrassed" by me and my actions or how I "still throw shit" in his face after the divorce or even how or why I should be seen to make an effort with someone else's family when they rarely bother with me and quite frankly have no reason to include them in a life that has never included them before a few years ago. I love my Father to pieces however I now realise just how selfish and self-obsessed he has always been, even from a young age and that is not going to change just because we all got another year older.  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

An All Rounded Weekend ...

Evening All,

So after last week's roller-coaster of emotions with the slightly overdue epiphany that maybe I should give men a rest. What with the likes of Mr. Cheese, Mr. Rockclimber and others to add to the list it is unsurprising that whilst I want and adore the attention, my heart is still uneasy with the absence of part of it. Since our last encounter several weeks ago things have been getting easier for me after Mr. Cheese and I went separate ways, although as anticipated it would not be the last time I see him as there is still some items of mine Mr. Cheese has to return. I am hoping to get them soon so as not to drag our last meeting out. 

Irrespective of Mr. Cheese I have found a new lease of life. I now spend my evenings cooking and cleaning and setting up my little home in the suburbs and am revealing in life's perks at present. My goodness I need to get out more - I'm one step away from being surrounded by cats and becoming that lady who screams at eggs in the supermarket! This week has been a hard one. After being shown the ropes I have been left pretty much to my own devices in my new job as Credit Control Administrator. It is tough being the new kid in the job and whilst I love the people I work with and the company itself, I really worry that I'm going to miss calling business' up and demanding money that is overdue. Nevertheless the wage isn't bad and the hours are good so I cant complain too much. I seem to be picking things up quickly but with only a few days left before the lady I'm covering leaves for her maternity-time I'm panicking I wont be able to pick up everything.

Friday after finishing work I made my way to my hometown of Dunstable to meet with an old friend who is a bride-to-be in less than four-month's time. A few months ago she approached me with the proposal of being the photographer for the Wedding. Shocked and honoured I agreed but the idea of being solely responsible for photo's that will not only last a life time but will span generations is daunting. Selfie I can do, and do very well too, but Wedding photography I'm not so sure on. I will give it a go and will attempt my very, very best but if they look like a four-year-old just stole a Canon then don't blame me. Despite my reservations I went round the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. for dinner and to discuss protocol and bounce ideas around. It was a wonderful evening and got me ridiculously excited for the big day. I think I may need an assistant and might have to call a few favours in from some old college pals, because come-on the Champagne isn't going to drink itself!?

Saturday was a hectic and busy day as Dad picked my up to help decorate the hall for his girlfriends 50th surprise birthday party that evening. I was excited, not just for the party but also just to be able to spend time with my Dad. Most of the time whilst setting everything up we never said a word to each other, but it was just nice being in the same room as each other, enjoying the silence we shared. Saturday night though was a different kettle of fish as Dad had left me in charge of the venue and its guests totalling nearly one-hundred and fifty. Pacing around the hall I was beginning to panic. I was meant to have a text to let me know they were on their way. Just as I was about to have a bathroom stop something buzzed in my palm. Daddy! Both him and the birthday gal were on their way. Less than two minutes now to turn the lights down, music off and every single man women and child silenced. Thankfully all went swimmingly and I pulled off the show, well, sort of!

After the stresses of anticipating the last guests of the evening I could relax and taking a sip of my drink I knew tonight would be good. By the end of the evening myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were on the dance floor throwing some shapes that would make a raver look mad. Feeling tipsy from all the alcohol we had sneaked in I didn't care for the empty dance-floor and wiggled about to some of my favourite songs, much to the dismay of Miss Tweedle-Dee who sat at our table wishing we would stop the cringey moves. After hours of dancing, consumption of cake and party food as well as lots of mingling we called it a night and headed home before my Father roped us all in to the cleaning up. 

Sunday morning came as a freezing cold breath of fresh air as I awoke on the small floor space of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's bedroom floor. Appreciative for the bed but not so much for the temperature I rolled over only to be greeted by her beady eyes glaring down from her duvet whilst chowing down on the leftovers from the night before. Between laughs and giggles, inside jokes and past awkward moments being relived we wasted several hours lying in talking and chuckling. Finally we made the decision that we would go into the local town and hit up some Sunday shopping, but by the time we got there it was only a few hours to closing time. A scrumptious roast dinner from Mummy Tweedle-Dumb and afterwards I finally made my way home to Bedford. 

What a weekend! And to think that it is already February. Where has the time gone? Where does it go? Before you know it I'll be writing to you from somewhere muddy, recovering from a hangover and living with the regrets of the days and nights before because this year I am going to my first ever festival. Roll on Reading Festival 2014!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx