The Deadly Virus

Heyy, 

Coming back down to earth and to the daily grind was hard last week, but heaven knows how hard Mr Warehouse and I were about to fall. Last week I said that I supposed our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon, however, with recent developments, this is looking unlikely. It is so hard for me to write this, even now as I type I am brushing tears from my eyes for I know the inevitable, and yet at the same time I know nothing at all. 

Since banning all weddings and marriage celebrations from 23 March 2020, the UK government has been sketchy at best on Weddings or civil partnerships, however, since 4 July in England weddings can now take place with up to 30 guests. At this point, hours away from our holiday to Cornwall, Mr Warehouse and I considered it. Obviously, it is an option and for many, this could work fine, and for many, many more they would have to make it work, if at all. Others simple refuse and make the heartbreaking decision to postpone their date. 

As quoted from the Gov.uk website, "legally-valid ceremonies or formations are strongly advised to go ahead only where they can be done in a COVID-19 secure environment (Whatever that means and thanks BoJo for the clarity). It is also advised that the ceremonies are kept as short as reasonably possible and limited as far as reasonably possible to the parts of the ceremonies that are required in order for the marriage or civil partnership to be legally binding. No more than 30 people should attend a marriage or civil partnership, where this can be safely accommodated with social distancing in a COVID-19 secure venue." In short, this means no singing, no choir (namely in our circumstances due to age and health issues which would consider them in a COVID-vulnerable category, not to mention being unable to learn 2 new songs by the time our day rolled around). It also means for us that it would not even be 30 people as we need to include in that group our photographer, videographer, Reverand and at least 2 witnesses. 

In conjunction with this, "Large wedding receptions or parties should not currently be taking place and any celebration after the ceremony should follow the broader social distancing guidance of involving no more than two households in any location or if outdoors, up to six people from different households" and again would need to include photographer, videographer, bar staff & waiting staff, taking our total down to even less. We calculated just 19 people could come to our special day.  

Following the UK Government Coronavirus announcement late last week and drafted on the basis of the scientific evidence available, from 1 August, "small wedding receptions will be able to take place". What does this mean? What is small? What is a reception inclusive or exclusive of? The guidance means that a sit-down-meal for no more than 30 people is to take place, again subject to COVID-19 Secure guidance.

For us as a couple, the thirty guests allowance simply would not work, and for many reasons. As the Gov.uk website states "Marriages and civil partnerships are a vital part of our society, uniting couples to start their new life together and affording certain legal rights. However, by their very nature, in bringing families and friends together, they are particularly vulnerable to the spread of COVID-19." How can I have a wedding with only a handful of our nearest and dearest? It is simple we cant. As frustrating as it is, I cannot simply cut my guest list and tell someone they were invited but now "really sorry you have not made the final cut". That is just not fair. Almost as much so that Mr Warehouse and I even need to consider this as a damned option on what should be the happiest few months of our lives. 

For us, as a couple trying to marry in 2020 it is a huge uphill struggle; Every. Single. Day. The constant questions are creeping in and I fathom their anxiety and awkwardness in asking as much as being asked. Or what is worse is the hesitation from friends and family we are slowly starting to meet up with again is agonising to watch them wrestle with themselves about whether they do or dont ask about wedding planning and how it is all going for fear of upsetting us. As I sit here thinking, sighing loudly so Number 10 can hear, I think about what it may be like, A Corona-Wedding?! I am not sure how I feel about it. Masks everywhere, no hugging and limited celebrating if you can even call it that. 

Since Lockdown began, over 73,600 weddings and same-sex civil partnership ceremonies have been postponed. I am just hoping that I am not one of them ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

To invite the Children or not to invite the Children?

Hey, 

"Save The Dates" still on hold (I know, I know) Mr Warehouse have been making other plans and desperately trying to negotiate that guest list down. As described in the post a few months ago "The Gluttonous Guest List", our original rough number of about 65-70 for day guests is creeping up and up and the majority of our wedding party was more "Warehouse=family-heavy". With our venue, a stunning village hall in Stagsden, nestled away in the heart of the Bedfordshire countryside, its pretty hall and ideallic gravelled garden I am sure will be plenty big enough for our guests. Although more recently, cutting down our wedding guest list is like Hercules battling Hydra – cut one person and two more seem to grow in their place.

However, with mine and Mr Warehouses most recent look at the serious swelling of our guests and that with the addition of kids, cousins, cousins kids and every man and his dog it is easy to see how things have quickly got out of control. Seeking out some advice online, I have yet again stumbled upon the website Bridebook.co.uk - Pretty much a one-stop-shop on all things wedding and getting married. Some advice they have on guest list has been really helpful such as cutting out children from the wedding party, for part or even the whole day! "This is a dilemma lots of brides and grooms struggle to settle within themselves, never mind with each other. But you’re not a bad person for requesting this – lots of couples do. Not only does it cut costs and numbers but it gives the parents a night off to enjoy themselves too if they so wish" Bridebook.co.uk says. Some helpful advice we have known about for a while. Mr Warehouse and I tried to broach this subject a few times however it always ended in disagreement as there are far too many children. 

I suppose I sort of just thought that family is family and whilst I hate not being able to put mom, dad and kids, heck even the family hound on the invite it is something that we simply cannot afford. If we just work with the adults here, that is everyone over the age of 10/12 (with a few exceptions of the close family members) the numbers come to about 85-90. Introduce all those cherubs and darlings and you have a wedding party of well over a hundred. No problem and all fun and games until you realise these people need to eat and the cost of that is already a bone of contention as the "W" seems to increase the price several times over! 

I mean we could always Billy bullshit an excuse, saying that we were not allowed to have any children at the venue, however, I very much doubt that this would have been the case since the Warehouses are very accustomed to the church we are going to be wed in. Instead, we have decided to be totally honest and upfront about our plans for our big day and have asked all of those family members that have children if they would mind us just inviting mom and dad. I was surprised (although I am not sure as to why) that people have been totally OK about it all, some of them relieved they can leave the kiddi-winks at home or with a babysitter and enjoy the evening letting their hair down. Truth be told they are all understanding that weddings can be and are expensive and so as much as we would love to invite all the children of our friends and family, it is only possible to accommodate the children of close family, mainly down to cost. 

After reaching out I was glad and relieved at how many people had said that it was our special day and whatever we wanted they would accept. If it was children then great or no children still great. I was pleased with the relaxed attitude and feelings everyone replied with and truth be told good make me feel a little silly for sweating so much over it all. So does that mean that Mr Warehouse and I will be sending out our "Save The Dates" this weekend? Well maybe not as we have a few things planned and in the pipeline for home renovations and summer fun, however, I am sure that once we do get round to it in the next couple of months we will have a much better idea on numbers and therefore invites, favours and catering will all be much, much easier. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Gluttonous Guest List

Hello one and all!

Shocked and disgusted I ended the phone call to the caterer. I am beyond the words to describe the sort of supplier that would not just double but nearly triple the price for a wedding sit-down meal in comparison to the same event without such connotations. Mr Warehouse's and My wedding is, as I said before, essentially a "family event" and should have no rhyme or reason as to a catering company increasing their prices so drastically. I assured you all last week that I should get a resolve and indeed I have, although not one I wanted. 

In response to a phone call with another young lady in the office as the main manager was conveniently unavailable for my phone calls, I was told that "further to your recent conversation with the Catering Department, unfortunately, it is not a viable option for us to provide catering for your Wedding due to the overheads involved as the waitressing staff alone cost £12 per hour. As discussed we are unable to provide other peoples food alongside our own and we only ever cater for an entire event. We feel it may be best that you go with the alternative catering company. We are sorry that we have been unable to help you further on this occasion."

Frustrated and annoyed I informed them that it was "unfortunate that I was not able to speak with the manager but that we will as a result not be using yourselves and would be hesitant to use your services or restaurant again but we will be sure to take our £1,500.00+ order and use a caterer that does not put up their prices by nearly treble the original when catering, no matter what the event be it wedding or small family affair as ours is." 

And so the hunt is still on. For caterers and for Wedding suppliers or items alike. This week has left me a little blue since there is not much now left to organise, email about or call people to get quotes for. Most of the sourcing of suppliers has been done and the booking process won't be much far behind that. Since Mr Warehouse keeps insisting that we can't afford a holiday this year (I think we can with a variety of vouchers, money off codes and a good old haggle) I have thrown myself head first into Wedding Planning and some would say maybe neglect my gorgeous Hubby-To-Be, putting all of my focus and energy into planning our dream day. 

After settling down to a rough number we realised that the majority of our wedding Party was more "Warehouse-Heavy". Our venue is stunning or at least will be by the time we put our stamp on it. Nestled in the heart of the Bedfordshire Countryside, Stagsden Village Hall is an old school house converted into a pretty hall with an ideallic gravelled garden and interior features. Large tall and wide windows will perfectly frame our top table and the wooden floors will be partied on all night long I am sure of it. With round tables, it was the perfect venue and ticked all the boxes including plenty of room for outdoors mingling and fun, plus extra space to bung the kids when they get rowdy or tired. The chairs are unsightly but I am sure that they can be tarted up. 

However, with Mr Warehouse and I looking at was the guest list and how much it is swelling with each and every month that seems to pass with the addition of kids, cousins, cousins kids and every man and his dog it is easy to see how things can quickly get out of control. If we just work with the adults here, that is everyone over the age of eighteen (with a few exceptions) the numbers come to about sixty to sixty-five. Introduce all those under legal drinking age and you have a wedding party of nearly ninety already. No problem and all fun and games until you realise these people need to eat and the cost of that is already a bone of contention as the "W" seems to swell the price like an excited horse in a field of fillies! 

I have a few ideas up my sleeve in respects of getting what I want. I always do. Well, most of the time. But if I don't then there are always a few good alternatives that are less costly but don't necessarily rely on the whole served-at-your-seat vibe, more of a DIY serve from the table kinda vibe. And so I suppose until next week wish me luck in finding a desperate supplier for a broke-ass Bride and Groom! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Turning off the Christmas Lights

Heyy,

So let me start this week's blog post about telling you exactly how much I love my fiance Mr Warehouse, however as much as I loved spending every waking moment with him I would also like to have some time by myself on the sofa watching some sort of crappy episodes of back to back Teen Mom OG or Homes Under the Hammer.

Finally though after what has seems like months, at last I last got a lovely long Saturday morning lay-in and a good binge of TV all washed down with a huge mug of coffee and maybe a mince pies or two. OK OK maybe it was the whole box, but in my defence they were going out of date and oh my goodness they were so crumbly and sweet. Besides, if one is not allowed to binge TV and eat copious amounts of food over the Christmas period then quite frankly what are you doing with your life?

During the run up to this time of year I either spend it out and about most evenings catching up with friends, on holidays or mini breaks away to somewhere more christmassy than Bedfordshire or just simply in a salon somewhere trying to make myself look beautiful for the party season whilst searching for a sequin sparkly plus-size dress that does not exist anywhere in any size other than anorexic or dead-for-a-week. But this year is different. I suppose that this past year there has been quite a few changes in my life which has made Christmas a little different. Granddad will not be feeding the dog from his bed, Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb are off living their best lives in sunny L.A, I have a new Fiance and a New Job as Marketing Coordinator but most of all, I have a swanky new home! 

Ahh yes the dynamics of Christmas has changed. But that is not to say that anything will be overtly out of the ordinary this year compared with last. Yes obviously my grandfather wont be there which in many ways will be sad for all of us as a family, however that being said, Christmas was a time for all the family to get around his bedside and take the piss, tell jokes, laugh and enjoy each others company - Or put up with it, depending on which members of the family you asked. Christmas is a day for celebrating and despite his absence, I plan to do just that. I plan to enjoy the company of my loved ones on Christmas day and will start it as normal with Mr. Warehouse and pooch in our new abode, opening the presents we have been hiding from each other for the last few months and eating chocolate for breakfast as any normal twenty-six/seven year-olds would do. 

Next will be bundling ourselves into the car for a trip round to My future families, Big Brother Warehouses, to have a spot of brunch (usually pigs in blankets although I am not sure why) and to watch our nieces and nephews open their presents from "Santa". You would have thought after generations he would remember to drop them at the right house! Nevertheless off we go again, on the move for the final time, back home to the other end of the 'Shire to spend Christmas dinner with my family, hopefully staying well into the evening and making use of Nanny Pumpkins glorious Cheese-board and over-indulgent Buffet. 

My Grandpa loved this time of year, good TV, family around cracking jokes and any excuse to have the house and garden filled with lights that went off any time you breathed a little to heavily, setting the whole Bungalow into a Vegas styled, all singing all dancing light show. My favourite part of being their grandchild was to sneak round the lounge when someone was sleeping and clap so that the singing Santa came alive, blaring out another nauseating Christmas hit! My brother and I used to laugh and giggle when "someone" would activate the Christmas lights and music, sending Nanny Pumpkin into a spin about why they were all going off again and waking Granddad from his afternoon snooze. 

I think it will be odd this year for sure but that is not to say it will be bad, he is in a better place and to an extent the family can relax a little as we won't have to wait on him hand and foot. Nanny will be sad I am sure but even she will probably find solace in the silence and normal lighting. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Blood Makes You Related, Love Makes You A Family

Hello,

Waking up on Saturday morning was probably the most relaxed I think I have had any morning waking up in my new home thus far. The last week or two had been strained to say the least and contributed to me losing my bag a few times with Mr Warehouse. Still in a bit of pain I was dropping him to work and picking him up every day which was starting to grate on me without having any of my own free time. Nevertheless a weekend away from it all and a quick calculation of our first mortgage payment and few bills that are coming in make it look and feel as though things will not be as tight as initially thought in the first few months of home ownership. Whilst I may well be math's dyslexic I am however quite good with working out financially whether something is a viable option or not, especially so when looking at our savings for the house and now going forward for the wedding. 

Hearing my fiance watching TV downstairs probably with the dog by his side made me grin with happiness as I rolled over to welcome in the brightness from outside. Now that is not to say that Saturday was at all a gloriously sunny or beautiful day for weather. If anything it was Far flung from that and was overcast, grey, drizzly and quite windy. Perfect weather for a Gazebo! Knowing that Mr Warehouse had probably silenced my alarms a few hours ago it was certainly time to get out of bed. Trundling down the stairs, still in my pyjamas and rubbing my eyes and waking myself up along every step, I wondered about coffee, only to hear the Bae call in from the lounge down the hallway that he put the kettle on a few moments ago anticipating my arrival. Such a sweetie! I think that the only way this morning could have possibly been any better is if he had brought it to me in bed. But today was not a day for lounging around in your duvet with a coffee in hand. Oh No! Today was the day that it finally felt all so real. I was engaged. I was a home-owner. And I was about to celebrate it all with the ones I loved most. 

Rushing around like a headless chicken, Mr. Warehouse and I didn't even stop for a cuppa or breakfast, soldiering through to put up the gazebo, lay out food, make the house presentable and decorate for a party! As the afternoon broke, we had our first guests, Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee. Unfortunately Miss Tweedle-Dee already had prior commitments with her cousins and so was unable to make it but I was so glad when her parents turned up to warm us into our new home as our first proper guests. Showing them round they kept saying how proud they were of me and also of my fiance and how lovely it all was. 

Soon after the next set of guests arrived, my Auntie and eldest cousin. Again the house tour began and after about the third or fourth I was glad for Mr Warehouse to take over a little with the hostessing as I mingled with our house now full of guests. "OK so maybe a few too many invites went out" I thought as I pondered what would have happened if more of the people who were meant to come had not of dropped out. Where would they go?! Probably that gazebo! Door goes again and I think about how I swear there was a TV comedy sketch show about doors constantly going and people piling on in. Regardless I welcomed them all in, Nana's, Uncles, Aunties, Cousins and friends. 

As the afternoon worn on so did the guests, and with every glass of Prosecco Mr. Warehouse topped me up with the more fuzzy I felt. Most of my side of the family stayed, a good majority of the afternoon and into the evening, mingling and chatting with each other and catching up after the more somber occasion of my grandfathers funeral earlier in the year. Taking a look around I was overwhelmed, as I always am with how many people really do love and support me. No matter what I do, or say or don't do even, they all love me unconditionally. Regardless of their opinions on what I wear or how I conduct my life they accept me for who I am and love and support me no matter what. That is truely what family is. Coming together to celebrate the good and comfort in the bad. It was at that moment I knew that I was content, at least for the time being and that I in a way had officially "made it". Out of everything that I have and are going through, I can honestly say that the hard work has paid off. Time to relax into our new home in time for Christmas ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Nightmares and Reality!

Hello, 

So after another eventful weekend, what with winning first prize in a dog show, getting engaged and all, I was certainly ready to spend some quality time with family and friends. As I spent most of Saturday popping in to see different family members gloating and showing off my shiny glittery new engagement ring. Honestly as miserable as the weather was outside in the cold and rain I was delighted in sharing my news with both of my Grandma's and the look on their faces was absolutely priceless and something I will never forget. 

Bidding farewell to the family I headed over to Miss Tweedle-Dee's place, only an hour and a half late or so! With a haunted Halloween Farm to wander around after dark we were sure to be getting our skates on as dusk slowly slipped into night. Pulling into the farm entrance I rolled over the security gate and felt something bump my tyres. Thinking nothing more of it than the cattle-gate keeping the animals in and the humans out, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mr Warehouse and I prepared to get our Spooky on as we waited patiently in line in the freezing cold ready to scare our socks off. 

The event we were going to was still in its infancy I suppose really because it had only been running for a few years, however the farm itself was a well-established hotspot for families and children especially during half terms for the local area and I myself had attended to the farm when I was much younger. The website advertises itself as "5 huge Horror Mazes with live creatures at every twist & turn". The Howl is open for 12-nights only and we were some of the first guests through the doors on Saturday evening. With all the amenities that you would expect from a farm, the evening also consisted of a Bar next to the canteen with Live Music plus some tasty looking Street Food including mine and Mr Warehouse's favorite - Hog Roast!

Inside "The Attic" with the creaking floorboards was a disturbing mix between your grandma's neglected loved and a hotel that had been left to crumble and I was certainly spooked. When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mr Warehouse and I entered "Red" in the woods, with enough creatures to make your skin crawl we got ready to twist, turn and run for our lives and we certainly didn't hang about to chat with the creepy actors. 

Probably the creepiest and certainly the most popular of all five mazes was "The Big Top". You see, these jesters are not clowns that deals in laughter, they prefers screams and I’ll remember the terrifying events of when Mr Warehouse's fun and games went horribly wrong when the sadistic fuck decided to tell one of the little clowns holding a red balloon that I was indeed Globophobic - A once crippling fear of balloons that I now managed by refusing to touch, feel, or go near a balloon for fear it will pop! With creepy clowns at every pitch black twist and turn, it’s not one for the faint hearted but for some odd reason my fiance thought that it would be a fantastic idea to cure me off my Globophobia by telling the little sadist clown of my innate fear to which she proceeded to get too close for comfort and burst the balloon right in my face! To be fair I think I handled it quite well and in a calm and collected way, putting fear and terror aside in order to just get through the last few moments of the horror maze. 

The boys in "Squealer’s yard" maze worked hard to bring out some of the most deep rooted fears placing me right inside the very scenes from the Chainsaw Massacre movies, complete with a terrifying chase accompanied by the soundtrack of a live chainsaw. Seeing my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Miss Tweedle-Dee, getting targeted, cornered and potentially buzzed into pieces was all a little realistic for my liking but definitely added to be adrenaline and terrifying fear that I felt. This was also mimicked by the "Shed" - A place where the unwanted new arrivals go! 

Certainly a place that we enjoyed thoroughly and definitely somewhere that we will be returning this time next year in the run up to my favourite time of year! Although on pulling out of the car park in the gravelly darkness, I could have that Vivienne just didn't feel right. Swaying heavily to the right hand side of the road I struggled to keep control of the car in my efforts to get home. I knew that my traction had been out for quite some time probably since I had played "the beep beep wave game" back when Mr Warehouse and I attended to our spa day with Loch-Stress Monster, but this was bad! As we approached the security gate I saw something metal sticking out of the gravel and felt something grunch my tyres once again. Pulling over on the side of the dark and lonely country road, I hoped that what I thought it was was not reality. 

Although as I turned off the engine and stepped out of the car to look at my tires I knew instantly that they were both flat. With not many options left apart from calling recovery for simply driving back to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house less than four miles away I took the latter option reaching speeds of twenty-miles-an-hour all the way home with my hazards blinking in the darkness. Arriving back at what I have come now to see as my second family home, I called the recovery people and within the hour they were out and collecting myself and Mr Warehouse to recover us back home, safe and sound. 

Sunday was supposed to be a day of lovingly holding hands walking around a wedding fayre and sipping Prosecco cocktails, however with two flat tires absolutely dead to the bone and a very few mobile tyre specialists or mechanics open on a Sunday, my hopes for a relaxing afternoon wondering around a nice wedding fayre was slowly slipping away. However, after giving it one last shot I called a local garage I knew I would be able to drive to if they couldn't come out to me. Low and behold they were open and with that I threw on some clothes, did my hair and make-up, dashing out the door with my new Fiance in toe. £120 later and three new tires later, Mr Warehouse and I were on our way to our first wedding fayre as a fully-fledged, legitimate Bride and Groom to be and we did in the end spend our afternoon wandering around, eating cake samples we will never buy into, sipping bubbly we will steal the idea from and indulging in some wedding fantasies of our own!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Listen With Your Heart, You Will Understand ...

Evening everyone!

Finishing work early at midday on Friday I was rushed off my feet yet again trying to sort different bits and pieces. After the last 18-months or so of searching for a property suitable for both mine and Mr Warehouse's tight budget as well as our dog we finally came across a few properties in the last few months that were affordable and that would accept pets. The only problem that we seem to come up against was the fact that the majority of these properties were very run down or poorly kept which meant that we would have to put in a lot of work to a property that was not perfect and was not ours, something that at the end of the day we could quite easily do in the place that we have here. Albeit our flat is small in comparison to the two-bedroom house with Garden and parking I envisaged us living in at this point last year, I would say that our flat is still on the large side in terms of the front room and bedroom. In fact I am sure that I have not met anyone that is able to fit a sofa, double bed, one single wardrobe, one triple wardrobes, two chest of drawers and a desk into their bedroom. After having several meltdowns over the last few weeks about where we live as well as the safety and security of the property, not to mention what seems like a complete lack of empathy or positive activity from our landlord, I have come to realise just how selfish I have been and how lucky I am to live in such a lovely home, even if it isn't mine. 

And so with this new lease of life and new found optimism for my housing situation, Mr Warehouse and I have decided to try and attempt to do up what little flat we have. I suppose with a little bit of paint, a spruce up of the patio area and maybe even splashing out on a few bits for the house I am sure that this will tide me over at least for the meantime to be happy in where I am living whilst trying at desperately to save for a house. In fact I think I am quite proud of myself for all of the bargains I have found over the last few weeks. Not only have I been able to bag myself a leather bound double bed for just eight-quid, but I have also sourced two bedside tables for a tenner, a nice fluffy rug for under a fiver, and a wall mounted TV bracket for ten British pounds too. I am hoping that the last few little bits we need such as paint and other garden furniture will be easily found or supplied through friends, family and work colleagues as well as a few freebies found online. 

Anyway I suppose that all of that gumft is for next weekend. Whilst last weekend was spent in mourning after burying my grandfather and all of the trials and tribulations that went hand-in-hand with spending so much time with my family during a difficult time, this weekend's welcome break to a hotel in Basingstoke was certainly what I needed. The secret that I had been keeping from you for a few weeks now was the fact that my best friend was getting MARRIED! Yes I know it has probably been the biggest secret that I have been able to keep to myself for a long while. 

The bestie met her boyfriend all those many moons ago back in Uni. A few weeks after rekindling our friendship after just drifting apart, Mr. Workaholic and I visited Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb and their "posh friends" in halls and this is when I first met her future husband. Mr. Tweedle-Dumb (because they are now legally married) seemed shy and very reserved for a Uni-student, nothing like the loud, brash and ladish lass he was dating. Someone focused, head-down and knew what they wanted and where they wanted to be. As the years passed and my boyfriends came and went, Mrs. Tweedle-Dumb had dropped out of Uni but continued to vist her Bae in halls and even carried on when he moved back down to his hometown of Basingstoke. Last Summer she made the move down the country to be with him and they got their own council flat. Small, it was more than most people get offered when only a couple and it was certainly plenty for them. 

After Mr Warehouse was let down for several job offers in Europe he was finally offered a promising career in Stockholm. The Tweedle-Dumb's waited for the application to emigrate for weeks, but after sometime it sadly fell through but after giving up their council flat and moving back in with the in-law's parents temporarily I think they needed a pick-me-up so took the opportunity to book a holiday to the place where dreams are made ... Disneyland Florida! Following romantic mini-breaks and trips to some of the most romantic tourist hot-spots across Europe and farther afield including Paris, Rome, Las Vegas, this engagement ring was having more holidays than I was as it accompanied Mr. Tweedle-Dumb on all trips. Each time they jetted off, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I would anxiously await the iconic picture and prepared to see if he popped the question on that trip?! But it never came. I was expecting it to never come and for them to just be that couple that are not engaged nor married but maybe have a child or two. But then it did! The Happiest Place on Earth. And that it certainly was for as my dearest friend looked up in awe of the Disney princess castle, the midnight sky alight with fireworks and stars she turned back to the love of her life only to be greeted by a one singular knee and a shiny silver ring. Shocked and stunned (as were we all guys!) I was so overwhelmed with happiness when I got a picture the following morning I cried tears of happiness. I was so unimaginably joyful for her. Whilst at first I begrudged her for going to the place where dreams come true in the first place because I wanted to go, I was thrilled at the prospect of a wedding I actually had a close relationship to the Bride! 

I have known Miss Tweedle-Dumb from such a young age when we were in lower school together and when we lived across the road directly from me. Initially she was a bitch and threw sand in my face but then the twins soon became the triplets when we adopted Miss Tweedle-Dee. Instantly we were inseparable, spending every time outside of the classroom with each other either out playing or hanging around each others houses. Of course we would argue as would any group of girls, and by hell we still do, but we always somehow made our way through. As we spent our time lazying away our weekends and summer holidays I always thought we would be friends forever and even in our old age we would still be giggling and laughing like we did when we were in school. Over the years, like every little girl and her friends we talked about our wedding days what we would do and what we would wear or how we would have our hair and make-up. We even discussed and acted out about how we would each walk down the aisle and practised using each other as father of the bride. 

This weekend, as I expected anyway, was eventful with lots of stress about beauty, getting ready and having enough time to do everything. All in all I had a nice time. The ceremony was a bit of a let down for me on their behalf as from where I was sitting the registrar seemed very uptight and conducted the ceremony in a bit of a farcical storybook parody. Snapping at Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Mr. Tweedle-Dumb for not holding hands, kissing or being close, I thought to myself if we didn't know otherwise, anyone would have thought that they were just doing this for a visa. All in all the day was lovely and touching in its own way. I think the only disappointing and sad thing was being without Mr. Warehouse by my side to spend it with us all and enjoy it, something that still perplexes me. I am just glad that she had a nice day and hope that both of my Tweedle-Dumb's have a wonderful life together. Wonder whose next then ... 

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

When Is The Right Time?!

Evening All, 

So last week was all about getting pissed up on cheap, flat cider and celebrating life with Mr. Warehouse and his family. And after a long, drawn out and strenuous week at work the past few days have been very relaxing and much more chilled.

From Friday night right through 'til this afternoon when I finished work I have stayed at Mr. Warehouse's home he shares with his mother, although she was away this weekend so Mr. Warehouse had invited me over to spend the weekend and look after his middle-aged Golden Retriever. A part of me did not even really realise until Saturday evening that we essentially were playing 'House'. And why not? Throughout the past nine months of my relationship with this man he has spent the majority of it with me either in my flat or at his mom's. But its strange when two people are just left to their own devices in a big old empty house and nothing much to see or do. 

Not going to lie I did enjoy it, but I soon found niggles that eventually if given time and the lack of space would burrow into my sole with the drive to constantly get on my tits! Like the way that Mr. Warehouse will do stuff he is not suppose to be doing even though you have asked him a trillion and one times not to. Or the way that Mr. Warehouse leaves his shit lying around. Even the way that my dearest Mr. Warehouse butters his toast before adding in a condiment like jam or spread can easily burn on my wick if I am already in a foul-arse mood. 

You see the thing is that when you live by yourself, and, single ladies you know what I mean - Its not the way that someone is around you, its the fact that sometimes you just cant be your true self. You can't always frog it in boy-boxers watching 'Jeremy Kyle' eating a whole pack of Pink Wafers to yourself and realising that the itchy thing on you bottom was just a rogue Sugar Puff from earlier. Nor can you fart loudly, laugh and be outwardly proud of such an expression because you are a lady whom should not do things like that, let alone still be sniggering about it twenty-minutes later. And alas you cannot leave rubbish everywhere with the intent that one day you will pick it up. Ahh yes! The joy's of living alone. 

But don't get me wrong an extra pair of hands can be useful, especially if you live on the top floor apartment with zero lifts. Carrying the shopping up stairs, taking out the rubbish and generally helping out around the place can be a huge help and beneficial to both parties in the long run. I suppose this week's post really started last week when Mr. Warehouse and I were out with my father and his girlfriend for Daddies birthday dinner and in true squaddie style my Dad just blurts out - "So when are you moving in with my Daughter!"

Gob-smacked and totally taken aback by the phrase let alone the idea I jumped in before anyone else had a chance to open their trappy little beaks and reiterated as I had done many times before that Mr. Warehouse was not moving in, not now and not any time in the foreseeable future. I enjoy my freedom. Its the only thing I really have left. I'm not single any more so instead I have my flat when I can grunge out for a whole weekend only venturing to the outside world in order to buy bread and milk.  can be myself in those tiny little slanted walls of my penthouse one-bed. Don't get me wrong I have thought about it, even looking into the possibility of moving somewhere bigger in a few years time to accommodate such a growing and developing relationship. Yes. I suppose the idea in the future is a good one but right now ... Certainly not! 

I mean where in my telescopic flat would his boy 'stuff' go?! The Xbox that is hardly works and even then never used yet held onto as the last claim to being a young man. The never-ending pile of dirty laundry that will inevitably be picked up by me, an ongoing sock vs. pants issue. Pointless letters, papers, payslips and rubbish strewn everywhere. Hmm, yes, not my idea of homely bliss. But then again if you asked Mr. Warehouse I am sure that he would say the same - A continuous stream of washing up, food that is slightly fluffy in the fridge and scatter cushions everywhere! 

In my flat right now their is barely enough room for me and my amazing personality let alone two, and whilst I like the idea that one day I will be a big girl with my own home and garden, I have to realise that it wont come along unless I suck it up and accept sharing. After all isn't that something that our parents all taught us. Yes that pile of washing looks a chore but when two people do it together and work through some of the things that happened in their days making small talk it will be done in next to no time! I don't know, I suppose after popping over to Mr. Warehouse's Brothers (Whose Fiancée is the same age as me!) new House it made me slightly Home-Broody. I think as I sat on their sofa in the three story town house I realised if I want to one day own my own home then I will need to get a shifty on and start saving. But that is light-years away, right now I am happy being the Queen of my own (rented) Palace and I am in no mood of down-grading any time soon, especially after the last time I moved in with someone!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Irish Experiance

Top 'o the marning to ya', 

Or at least that's what they say in Ireland. Haha. Anyhoo I hope all is well and good with everyone and it is safe to say that I am fully recovered and rejuvenated from my adventures of the lactose variety. I am now back home safe and sound and ready for a fresh new chapter ahead. Well Kinda! 

So after I left the House of Cheese last Sunday I whizzed back home, up my apartment stairs still dressed in the outfit from the night before, suspenders and all and rallied around my penthouse for my bag and all the other bits I would be taking away with me to Ireland. After making several trips up and down those god awful stairs many more times as a result of leaving something important behind I finally left in good time to make my train and grab a good old Starbucks before heading to the departure lounge. I was hoping to find a nice Irish fellow, maybe works in something fun like marketing or advertising to chat with on the journey. Maybe we would fall in love and he would invite me to stay in Dublin for ever and ever and live happily ever after under the shadows of the Guinness factory. Alas though this was not the case and after taking off late due to a delay I began to feel nauseous. Maybe my last night of passion had caught up with me? Nevertheless I tucked into my hearty breakfast bap from Starbs and let the oxygenated air knock me out for six. 

Landing in Dublin I knew I was already going to be pushed for time catching my coach from the airport to the village closest to my Aunt and Uncles cottage in Callan, County Kilkenny. Rushing past fellow flyer's and nearly pushing a small Spanish boy onto the luggage carousel in a mad dash to get through security I managed to get outside into the Irish air but missed my coach by mere minutes. 'Damn Spanish kids' I thought to myself as I begged for a Irish driver to detour and take me to where I needed to go. Thankfully a nice man let me on his bus and I headed for the city centre hoping I could make my connection there. As the city lit up with the evenings lights under a dark rain cloud it began to pour and the heavens opened over the home of the leprechaun. Just as I thought it was too late my trusty bus driver pulled into the coach yard and yelled at the now leaving coach bound for what I would call home for the next week or so to stop and allow me to board. The luck of the Irish 'eh?

After a long and winding journey through the Irish hills that seemed to roll on forever and countless attempts to get my phone to work in what appeared to be a completely foreign country (Thanks T-Mobile) I finally arrived at my destination. A local farmer friend of the family came to collect me and we made small talk most of the journey home. Letting myself into the small cottage I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the sights that had comforted me so many times before. Somehow I always feel like I am at home in Ireland. 

Settling in I unpacked and threw on some pyjamas in the hope that there might be something decent on TV like a film or such. Casting my phone aside and telling myself that I would deal with it tomorrow I flopped into the leather couch and prepared for my first night alone. In the middle of nowhere. Miles from the nearest neighbour. Where you can scream and no one will hear you. With no protection other than a blunt letter opener. 'Yes, I think I fancy watching My Little Pony tonight!' I thought to myself as I made sure that the front door was locked. Luckily I didn't have too long to enjoy my own company as I was joined the following morning by my Aunt and Uncle's dogs arriving back from the kennels. I was hoping that maybe now would be my chance to meet a handsome Irish man. No. This one I am sad to say was old and had a white beard to rival Captain Bird's Eye. Taking hold of the leads the large dogs, one a Pitbull type and the other a slobbery Dog Bordeaux, I could feel how strong they were. Pulling on the chains I shoved them into the house whilst I waved off my only communication for that day and collected the rest of the dog stuff. 

Snuggled up on the leather settee was where myself and my furry friends spent most of the next few days, watching reruns of Friends (In which I had never really seen before but now I am hooked and feel I now need to spend the next few weeks catching up on everything between 1994 and 2004). I did however venture out most days, oddly going for a run a couple of times. I know - I must have been bored. I did venture into the city of Kilkenny one day to see the sights and to have a cheeky shop in the knowledge that my bags had plenty more room to fill with clothes and shoes. Sad to say though by this point (Tuesday Afternoon I might add) I was already missing work and so this reflected in my shopping habits with me picking up several new shirts and a pencil skirt I shall no doubt return once home. Exhausted I headed for a bearded gentleman manning the information desk to call me a cab back home since my driver was unavailable for the week. After dialling for a taxi and trying with no avail to tell him where I needed to go I sat in the back of the large silver tin can hoping and praying that he wouldn't turn down a dirt track and try to grope me. 

Thankfully I made it home in one piece although robbed of forty-euros for the cab fare. The cheek! Apparently I found out at a later date that the journey in total shouldn't have cost no more than about twenty but how was a pretty little English girl to know that? Disregarding the incident I went about my usual duties for the week feeding all the animals on my Aunties increasingly growing collection of farm yard creatures. In total I was sharing my Irish retreat with four goats - One of them pregnant, a horse, several chickens, a rooster, a couple of guinea fowl and three dogs. Snuggling down under the blankets and with the warmth of the hounds we watched a film and then headed to bed. Soon enough though the weekend was upon us and I was greeted by the local farmer again offering to take me to the local pub up the road for a proper Irish knees up and a few pints. Obviously I obliged but had to clear myself of dog hair and the smell of oats. 

Donning my boots and 'Big-Boob-Bra' I headed out for a night out with the local lads. Lads however may have been an extreme use of the word. I think maybe the phrase I was looking for was of the more mature variety. Stepping into the quaint little public house I could tell how it once used to be someones front room. Warm and cosy though I stood at the bar and soaked up the surroundings. It was far from busy and I took shelter with my 'date' for the evening until I found some company. Looking around my thoughts were confirmed. I was not only the youngest in the joint but also the only female! Now most people would have thought 'Oh dear god no! They will harass me and try all there best 1974 chat-up lines on me?!' but not me. I revelled in the conversation about cow's and farming, even dropping in about my blog once or twice. 'I knew I would be a hit' I thought to myself as I spurred out all the old tales of bad dates and naughty escapades of a younger, less informed self. Rounding off the night I thought I might have to carry my farmer friend home but thankfully his wonderful wife came to collect us and saved me from a good four-mile trek home in the scary darkness of the Irish wilderness. 

Being woken up at the crack of dawn by the rooster "Cock-a-doodle-dooing" is something I shall never become accustomed to however on the morning following the Irish night out my head was craving for more time with the pillow. I reluctantly rolled out of bed, fixed my curls into pigtails and began the feeding of horse, goats and poultry. I did fancy picking one of the chickens up and just whispering to it "Nando's" but I thought that would just make me hungry so went back inside to find the CoCo Pops. Rounding off my week away I rose early this morning to make sure that all the animals were fed and watered and that the dog man collected the pooches before I headed off back to Dublin and to catch my flight later on that afternoon. And after all my in-vain searching for an Irish fellow I finally found one in the Kennel-boy. 

Pulling up in the silver van I could hear the Pitbull and Dog Bordeaux going mental. Not evening thinking twice I nearly ran outside to see what all the commotion was all about minus my top. Bare breasts to the guy that collects Mutts for a living is not the best first impression to give someone not to mention probably making the poor boy vomit and causing mental scarring. Huffing on a vest and joining the barking two-some outside I could see what they were barking at ... Woof Woof! Talk with wispy curly hair and a thick Southern Irish accent and I was sold. On top of all that (Yes please!) he worked with dogs for a living so no more bow-wow bashing. Handing them over to him I thought about crawling into the cages next to them and asking the young chap to take me for a walk! 

After watching my Irish farmer boy drive off up the lanes I waited next for my carriage to whisk me away to Kilkenny so I could grab a much needed coffee and some breakfast before boarding the coach again back to Dublin. Waiting at the station I helped out a African man struggling with a folding bike, unbeknown to me however it turns out I had made a friend. When questions surrounding my love-life arose I remembered how Mr. Cheese had said that African men always see a girl with no ring on her finger as a potential wife. Reacting quickly and not wanting my love-life to seem as tragic as it actually is I made up a story that I was engaged and that my fiancée whom I have lived with for several years after meeting at University in London, was buying the ring this weekend. It seemed to throw him off but left me feeling deflated and wondering when or even if I will ever get to that point in life. 

Trundling through the city streets of Dublin flooded my head with wondrous fantasies about one day living over there. Not permanently of course, I can barely leave my Tweedles for a week let alone a lifetime! No maybe just a year or less. You know, living in a hostel, working in a bar, making new friends and chatting up nice Irish men! What could be better. It got me thinking and I am now seriously considering a sabbatical from work to live out an Green Isle adventure. Finally connecting to Airport WiFi I completely miss read the departure gate for my flight and instead of being at gate 107 I was at 307. 'Im not going to Manchester?' I thought. Then it hit me and my Caramel Frappachino like a tonne of bricks - 'Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!' 

Running through the airport as they were making the call for final boarding I realised that not only do I probably look like a twat running but that I may become one of the disgruntled passengers I always laugh at on my favourite TV programme of all time 'Airline'. Finally arriving at the correct gate I flew through the check in and boarded the plane home. And so here I am now. At my trusty window in my apartment writing to you fine people! Safe to say though that my feet themselves will barely be touching the ground this week as I have to go into work tomorrow to sort some stuff out, I have the UnDate that we spoke of that I may have to reschedule as well as all the washing and packing for the weekend ahead. Weekend ahead you ask? Well I most certainly will not be going to Tiffany's to pick out an engagement ring with my future husband (Or maybe I will?!) No I will be crowning myself as an Indian Chief and getting down and dirty with the best of them. Mallet, mud-fights and cagoule at the ready - Next weekend is Reading Festival 2014!

'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx