Burning Love

Hi-Dee-Hi, 

Landing in Stansted after what seemed like the longest day ever I was more than ready to go home and get a well rested nights sleep before work the next morning. After yet again trawling round Christmas Markets and the city sights of Prague, picking up the few last little bits and bobs, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had spent the rest of our day hanging out in Cafe's and bars. Getting up and out was a rarity over the last few days in Prague and I think the earliest we made it out on any day was eleven and that was only because it was our first morning. 

Nevertheless I was glad to be home, even if it was more than fifty miles away. Battling through the airport and passing through Passport control with nothing more than a few questions and a check that I hadn't come in on an illegal document. Sparking up our last Cigarette, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I revelled in how much of a good time we had on our mini trip to the European Christmas market / City Break. "Maybe a nice cup of coffee and another cigarette before I head home to my pooch and boyfriend?" I thought to myself as we stood in the cold awaiting Papa Tweedle-Dee to come pick us up from the collection points. Just as I finished my Cigarette my phone started to ping. Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Not bothering to answer straight away, assuming they were Facebook or Twitter notifications I ignored them, joking with the Bestie that it might even be Mr. Warehouse worrying if I have been kidnapped or held up in some sort of terrorist attack. 

Soon Miss Tweedle-Dee's phone started pinging as well, although more conscience of her online presence she responded and looked alarmed when she unlocked the screen. 
"Its the boyfriend. He says you need to call him urgently there is a problem!" Miss Tweedle-Dee read off from the message he had sent her. I called just as Papa Tweedle-Dee pulled up. Thinking maybe it was something to do with the dog or maybe Momma Warehouse or maybe another one of his clan I worried as I dialled his number. 
"So What is the urgent emergency, do you miss me?! Ill be home soon you kno-" I asked as I was cut off mid sentence. Answering back in hysterics was Mr. Warehouse. Thought the chesty coughs and panicked voices I could hardly make out what he was saying. 

"Don't Panic but there has been a fire!" Mr. Warehouse started, in between unconvincing coughs. Everything was not OK and I needed to get home pronto. Explaining on the car journey back up the motorway, Mr. Warehouse explained that as normal he had put the washing on with the intention it would be done by the time I got home, and ergo ready for a overnight dry in the tumble-dryer. Unfortunately after having it on for just a matter of minutes, maybe ten at most whilst walking our eight-year old (Labrador that is) the boyfriend and the pup arrived home to a flat thick with black smoke. Opening the front door it billowed out into the fresh night air he said, probably no later than nine at night. Instincts kicking in he ran back into the flat, with hope of stemming the buyer and making sure it wasn't to damage anything else in its path. 

As stupid as that sounds there is some method in his Madness. You see when Mr. Warehouse was younger, maybe in his early teens, and long before our little pooch was born; him and his mother were involved in a very serious, maliciously intended arson attack by someone close to the family. Traumatised, I couldn't believe the things that I was hearing when we first started dating and he told me the story of how he had nearly died. It was serious and Mr Warehouse and his mum lost almost all of their worldly possessions and were left with pretty much the clothes on their backs. It was about the same time of year as I remember Mr. Warehouse detailing how cold it was on his feet the ground whilst fire fighters fought the blaze. Obviously it is something that would seriously mess with someones head, let alone a kid. Momma Warehouse and a much younger Mr. Warehouse had to start a fresh start, begging, borrowing and stealing (OK maybe not that far) anything to try and make a home together and get back to normality. 

So you can imagine what last Tuesday night's event brought back for my dearest Mr. Warehouse. Acting as he had not been able to as a pre-teen he went back into the property, ordering pup to stay outside. Finding the source of the smoke in the kitchen (stupidly) he went to open the door, emitting more smoke to the already toxic atmosphere. Cough throughout Mr. Warehouse was able to lift out the burning clothes, mangled together but hot, molten plastic and metal, smouldering in his very hands. dumping them into the bath tub (luckily next door to the kitchen) Mr. Warehouse dowsed them in water from the shower and returned to the smoke filled kitchen in order to get to the electrics of the machine. Pulling it out with all his might through limited vision he was able to disconnect the machine and unplug it from the mains in order to stop the fire from spreading. 

Outside he came to his senses and after checking that our little lady was OK he tried to call me. But I was 35,000 feet in the air, probably over France or Europe somewhere. Instead he sat tight for over an hour until I had landed before calling me. Terrified as to what I would come home to I rushed back, not stopping for my coffee or last holiday cigarette with Mama and Papa Tweedle-Dee. The entire journey home I raced as fast as I could, speeding all the way I am not proud to admit it,, hitting hundred on the A421 back home. I needed to be with my little family. They were the ones that mattered the most. 

But the thing is that we order it don't we we put on our washing machines, tumble-dryers, dishwashers and even microwaves and simply get on with our lives. Those sorts of household appliances are the ones that you leave to do their job whilst you do yours. You do it. Your neighbour does it. Heck your Nana probably does it. No one in their right mind would have the time to sit and watch the washing machine go round and round or their dishwasher whirl away. It is probably something that you and I have done a thousand times before - Put the machine on and go to bed or head out for the day. But boy am I glad all the facts about Mr. Warehouse was only out ten-minutes. I dread to think at the possibilities that I could have returned home to from Prague. This was serious. 

Everything else can be replaced; books, pictures, clothes and documents can all be had again, but family can't. Mr. Warehouse was my start of something special and he had risked his life tonight, not only putting himself in danger but also the other residents and tenants in the block. Thankfully after those stern words Mr. Warehouse agreed with me that he should not have gone back in but with the circumstances from last time he felt it his duty to protect what little we had since he was unable to do that before. Luckily no one was hurt and after getting everyone checked out, including the dog, we are all safe and sound. 

The fire brigade concluded that it was something to do with a heating element or component in the machine that had become faulty which makes me wonder about some of the issues we had earlier in the year in relation to the tumble-drying part of the washer-dryer our landlord had installed, but alas I trusted his judgement in getting it fixed and ever since have been using the household appliance as a washing machine only, relying on a separate tumble-dryer to help after the wash was completed. 

Thankfully there has been no smoke damage and nothing was majorly burnt or broken in the process apart from the contents of the machine which was numerous jumpers (on of them being my favourite), some towels, work uniforms and a couple of expensive football shirts which just helped to melt everything together in one toasted, charred lump. I was pleased that I had renewed my home contents insurance just days before setting off for Bath a few weeks ago and now will have to go through the rigmarole of setting up a claim in order to get back our lost items which the Landlord will help with. 

A week on we are conscience of the lingering acrid and smokey scent that still hangs in the air, but with little if any at all ventilation down our Fritzl type corridor of our flat, there is little that we can do. If I could move out tomorrow I would and now it is more important than ever to get someone of our own. I am just glad that I didn't come home to a dead family. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Getting On Like A Warehouse On Fire!

Afternoon All, 

So after my tooth being amputated from my moist face cave, otherwise known as my mouth, I have been eating soft foods. Although I must be honest, after last weekends mind-blowing-ly gorgeous tasting Mulled Cider I couldn't resist trying to make some at home on my own! And to much success. Although now all the crappy still Cornwall Cider I had spare is fast running out and so is the jar of spices that go along with it! This week however especially the weekend has been pretty humdrum and with all my friends off playing with their respective partners I decided to spend a relaxing one with Mr. Warehouse and indulge in a little spring clean of my flat. Everything was and has been normal until this afternoon ... 

Sitting at my desk sorting out the holiday boards for the new holiday/tax year that is beginning in March, I was suddenly then interrupted by the warehouse ruffian who then proceeded to tell everyone that there was a fire in the warehouse and we should all get out of the building. Since there was no fire alarm and no office Fire Marshall was coming round I thought that it may have been an over elaborate joke. Ignoring his warning I answered an incoming call and proceeded to chat away to one of my engineers. That was until I was asked to put down the phone and get out of the building by another colleague. Hanging up I knew this was not a drill. Something deadly had happened and we all had to escape the building as quickly as possible. 

Braving the chilly weather and cold winds I turned to look at the back of the warehouse where the fire would have started. Wisps of greying smoke billowed out from the shutters and it didn't take much to see the orange flames licking the machines and the insides of the building like a kid with a melting ice-lolly. Concerned I looked at the time. Three-Forty-Five. I was worried that most of the staff were now congregating in the small car park and yet I could not yet see my Mr. Warehouse. It was his home-time at half-three so he may well have gone home. But then again what happens if he was still in the building?! 'Where was he' I thought, anxiously to myself. As I quickly scrabbled out a text and sent it I waited impatiently for a reply from Mr. Warehouse. 

It was a strange feeling though. Standing there alone in the car park was not an issue. I was surrounded not only by colleagues, but also friends and somewhat family, maybe even future family?! But as I nattered around with the other ladies in the office and lads in the warehouse I soon realised that there was one thing missing. A very important person in my life. As I watched Mr. Warehouse's supervisor walk out of the goods yard with an Italian swag on and the mouth of a sailor I worried even more-so. Just as I was about to go up and ask someone where Mr. Warehouse was, My phone bleeped. 

"Yes, Why? x" it read from the M.I.A Mr. Warehouse. 'Uh, thank goodness' I thought, forcing another reply through my slowly freezing fingers. Explaining that the warehouse was in a blaze and we had all been evacuated I wasn't surprised minutes later to hear my phone ringing. Answering I calmed his little sole by explaining that I was OK and that we were all waiting for the fire department to arrive. 
"Right I will see you in a second then!" Mr. Warehouse said, panicked. He then hung up and as I wondered what he meant, soon enough he was at the end of the road, coming back to check that not only was I OK but also whether he could blag a day off tomorrow. To be fair to him I was going to do the same, maybe throw in a few coughs and splutters to sound convincing but to no avail. I do indeed have work tomorrow as does Mr. Warehouse and co. 

But it made me think about how much I really do care and love him. Maybe not in the same way as Mr. Workaholic, but about as close to that kinda thing as I think I will ever get. I worried about him more in those few moments than I think I have ever done so in a long time, if at all. It made me think again about all the crazy dreams I have had in the past few months - A secret affair in New York with Evan Peters (As depicted in 'Hello New Boobs') or maybe the one where I made out with my new work colleague and then accused Mr. Warehouse of having an affair with a prostitute and a gay man at a beach-hut party or how about even that dream where I am boxing up all my old things in Dadda Workaholic's house and having a good old natter with Mr. Workaholic himself. Very strange dreams. But all pointing to one interesting point of contact for all when investigating further in my dream books and manuals was that they all pointed towards feelings of tackling issues that have been bothering my mind for a while. Even my masseuse added after a session that I was far too tense in my upper body, although not Mr. Masseuse I may add - Oof never again!  

And so it seems that I. No - We, needed to have a conversation. Theoretically it was going to happen sooner or later. In fact I think some of our work colleagues probably knew it before I did. But the thing is that last time it happened I was with Mr. Workaholic. Whilst I may have dreamt of 'boxing things away' and 'moving on' I am certainly terrified of moving on fully, only because I know how it might well end. Quite frankly I think one heart break is enough for an entire generation let alone a lifetime and never want to go through it again but on the flip-side it would make life for Mr. Warehouse and I that much easier. I have to keep reminding myself that whereas last time my entire relationship went up in a fireball to rival the Atom Bomb, I was only 20-years-old and was still a baby in comparison to my life now. I am more grown up than I was and in a way have become stronger and better within myself. I don't rely on anyone and certainly with this situation know that if it did all go tits-up, I would be able to handle going back to a-life-before-Mr.-Warehouse easier than if we moved out somewhere new. So I suppose the only question is ... 

When are you moving in Mr. Warehouse?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx