Clifford the big red car!

Hi All, 

Leaving the office, the clouds were grey and certainly far from partying in the sky above Bedford this afternoon as I jumped out of a work colleagues new car as she dropped me to the car dealership. I thought about the first time I came here and how I missed my little orange Ford Fiesta, Vivienne. Alas that chapter had ended with the haulage truck turning up last week to take her away, sparing me the anguish of seeing her leave whilst I had gone off to get my hair done! 

As I skipped into the dealership I was excited to see my new arrival outside, glinting in the overcast silver sky. The cute little Fiat 500L in red was to be christened "Clifford". He is big. He is red. He is mine. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needed to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and following a visit to meet him on Wednesday of last week I finally got a chance to have a whizz around town. A full panoramic glass roof, touch screen on board computer system, cruise control and even a trusty CD player I was certainly glad of some of the mod-cons. With just over thirty-thousand miles on his 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal. 


But I know what your thinking. With several grand sat in the bank, would it not have been better and more cost effective to put that money towards my new car, whatever it may be? However whilst I have essentially walked away not only unscathed but very-much essentially up on my investment, the money would be of much more use to me not tied up and with easy access should I need it in the future, that and the wedding would be nicely taken care of. Why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is always a huge factor in why I have chosen and will probably continue to choose to buy second-hand over new. 

That being said, my settlement doesn't make me stupid with money as the dealership found out in more ways that one. Following the visit to meet Clifford on Wednesday and our test drive, I was informed that there had been some minor damages on the vehicle and that they would be fixed before collection in a couple of days time, one being the rear brake light was cracked and the other being the front passenger seat belt casing was missing. Assured that the car would be fully checked and valeted as well before Clifford was ready to come home I was taken into the offices of Evans Halshaw Vauxhall in Bedford, offered a hot chocolate and the paperwork to sign and read through. 

However, reading down the page I could see that there was something blatantly obvious that had not been picked up and was potentially a huge issue. The Interest rate. Now cast your mind back to when I initially bought 
Vivienne I did not necessarily know about the best way to get finance on a car. I assumed, and rightly so I would be charged a slight premium for opting to go through the salesman who puts on their percentage, and then through the dealership who puts on their percentage to go to the finance company who, you guessed it, put on their percentage. But I never knew of the horrendous rate I was on until the accident. Nearly. Twenty. Percent. 

I was shocked, to say the least, and when I discovered what I had been paying for the two and a half years nearly I felt stupid. Normally I am so money conscience and always wanting to know if there is a way I can get it or a similar product cheaper or getting the best deal on something, only to be faced with an extortionate interest rate. Now I know that things were different back then and interest rates were higher, however when reading through the paperwork this time I was certain to make sure that the interest rate was no more than the ten-percent advertised by the saleswomen. But now, as I read through the pages and pages it stared be dead in the face. There it was in black and white. 12.9% APR interest rate. I asked why this was different to a few days ago when I initially enquired about the car and was met with a rude response. 

The rotund, grey-haired gentleman told me that it was what it was and it had always been that rate whether I was to borrow five pound or five thousand pounds. 
"Well it is only a three-percent difference, I can't see what the issue is?" He scoffed as I continued reading through, trying to work out my next move while deciphering the technical language and car jargon. 
"This is not was agreed or explained to me," I said boldly as I pushed the paperwork back across the desk. I stood up and thanked the sales lady for showing me the car and stated I would be in touch as the car was not the issue, the interest rate (and the old farts attitude) was. Spinning on my heels I turned and left, hoping they would call me back and offer a more reasonable rate. 

They did not, however arriving back home I had no sooner sunk into the black couch then I had a phone call. It was the finance manager. 
"I am sorry you have had this experience," he explained "I do hope that you will let me rectify this. You see I could essentially give you the car for 0% APR but that would mean I would be in negative commission and wouldn't make any money from the sale, so I am happy to beat the initial offer and settle at 9.9% if you are happy with this?" He continued. I thought long and hard about what he had to say. Time was running out on the hire car and I needed to make some decisions and fast. On agreeing that I was happy to settle at the now reduced rate (not that 0.01% is hardly a huge discount) I explained that considering I could go to a bank or online and get a loan for less than a third of what I was expected to pay, and I was already sensitive about the interest rate since last time I bought a car I was taken for a ride (I would excuse the pun but I love it too much)!

Happy I went along my merry way and was excited to pick up my car in a few days time once the work had been completed on the rear brake light and the front passenger seat belt casing. Although less than twenty-four hours after the APR debacle I had another phone call from the dealership. 
"So the front passenger seat belt casing will not be replaced due to the age of the car (its a 2013 plate car - less than six years old) but also because the part is a couple of hundred quid as the part comes only as a set and goes right the way under the seat." The sales lady explained. Fuming I ended the phone call and wondered what to do next. I had even less time now until my hire car went back and needed something soon. 

After getting some advice from work colleagues who knew the car industry well, I called the general manager of the dealership and asked why this could not be fixed as part and parcel of the works, considering all the issues I have had, and with special thought to the fact that whilst I am buying a used car, this was now a broken car with an issue that was not detailed on the pictures, nor on the information held on the website. Going off to investigate I was prepared to ask for something cheekily to be thrown in if they could not fix it free of charge, however I needn't have put on my boxing gloves, for when the manager called back moments later I was told that this would be done as soon as the part was in and without any cost to myself. 

With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and after being shown around and how to use him, I bid farewell to the sale lady (although I am certain she was more pleased to see me go) and with that, Clifford's almighty diesel engine steered me homeward bound. I am certainly looking forward to more adventures together, and hopefully even sharing it as Mr Warehouse and I expand our family in the future. Road trips, holidays and sneaky trips to the shops, I will be sure that Clifford and I will be riding high!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Beware - The Stagsden Hag!

Evening All, 

Standing in the freezing cold and blustery wind that I thought was going to take me off like Mary Poppins, my frustration and anger was growing minute by minute that we sat in the car park of our future wedding venue, Stagsden Village Hall. For weeks I had been trying to arrange an appointment whereby I could view the building again with a fresh pair of eyes and alongside my fiance Mr Warehouse after we had booked it for our special day. Finally, after some communication issues, I was told that the original lady though we had met on site the first time that we viewed The Village Hall that she has now moved on and how work commitments meant she could not dedicate enough time to the running and upkeep of the village hall and its users. 

With this in mind, I had been put in touch with another lady who assured me that she would be here. The difference was that we were not alone and accompanied also by a potential caterer who had met us on site in order to see the facilities that he would be working with in order to give us some scope for a menu. 
"This was getting ridiculous" I raged to Mr. Warehouse and the caterer as the wind howled and I stormed around the property. It was now nearly half an hour later than planned and after getting up at the crack of dawn in order to make it for my 9:30am appointment, I was seriously vexed at being seemingly stood up. All things considered, the delay would not have been a huge problem had I been alone and had not consumed 4 bottles of wine the previous evening along with Miss Hackney who had come round for gossip and to offload on the week she had. 

Fragile to say the least I had been up until about midnight drinking only to then get up early the next morning in order to drive Mr Warehouse to work at approximately 5:30am. So yes, I am sure that my patience was quite thin anyway and my temper was wearing by each minute that slipped by. 
"I could have been in bed asleep, or binge-watching craft and life hacks on YouTube, or maybe even hitting the road for a morning run?!" I fumed to my entourage. So many more things that I could be doing better than standing around waiting for someone to turn up if at all. I was constantly calling the numbers that I had for the village hall which were only one or two. When no one answered I decided to email an urgent request to the contacts I had, and again to no avail. 

Just as we had discussed with the caterer that there was to become a time where none of us could wait around all day, a large red people carrier came bungling into the gravel car park and out stepped a woman in her mid-thirties and a gentleman about ten-years-older. She asked for my name and said that she was here to set up for a party the following day. I jokingly said with a little bit of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she had a number and had prearranged an appointment since no one had actually turned up for ours. The lady and gentleman explained that they had booked the whole the following day for a party and that they were there today to set up in preparation and to collect the keys. 

It was at this point that I started to get angrier and started to wonder if something sinister had happened. Just as the caterer had come to say he was unable to stay any longer a silver sports car come whizzing into the gravel car park, nearly missing some of us standing around and pulled up to a halt outside the front door. Out popped a chirpy retiree who had mentioned "good morning". Barely being able to hold back after waiting around for nearly an hour I marched over and asked what had happened which made her late for our appointment. She scowled back at me the caterer and Mr Warehouse and proceeded to explain that our meeting was at 10:30am and she was not late. 

Taking a deep breath and mustering all I could by not wanting to smack a bitch in the face, I allowed her to open up the village hall as I explained that I was not the 10:30am appointment and that this was the poor woman and her gentleman friend behind me that had arrived on time to set up the venue. 
"Oh yes well there must have been a mistake and I do apologise but it is of course run by volunteers don't you know" was her response, to which I could handle no more. I made the gestures that we should probably rearrange a better and more suitable time that would be convenient for both of us since there was already someone setting up the hall to which the retired old hag just ushered us in and said to look around. I didn't feel comfortable and explained that the lady and gentleman in the car park had hired the hall and were clearly setting up for an event that they did not need anyone wondering around taking photos or getting in the way when they have hired and paid good money. On hearing this, however, the lady who was setting up the hall with her friend was quite sweet and had said they did not mind us walking around and taking photos if necessary as it was clear there had been a major misunderstanding. So nice! 

Accepting I walked off with my caterer in toe, dashing for the kitchen, Mr Warehouse following and maybe throwing a tut or sigh about the place as he went. However last Stagsden Village Hall is large in comparison to its other contenders we had on the list, it was no stately home and on many occasion, I kept bumping into either the lady and her gentleman friend setting up or the old bag herself. At some point, a group of two or three workmen came in to assess the state of the foyer to lay down some new flooring and then a few moments later another elderly gentleman joined the "Stagsden Hag", tinkering about with the Gas and Electric metres in the middle of the corridor. 

Frustrated beyond belief I think the woman figured that I wasn't best pleased that her and tried to stay out of my way. When it came time to leave I asked her for her mobile number so that this incident would not happen again. Yet again she ran off the bullshit spiel that this is "run by volunteers and there must have been a mistake", that was until I pulled up the email which clearly stated the date and time of which our appointment was. Now I acknowledge that as a side note I was probably a little ratty that day. A combination of very little sleep, lack of food and my bloodstream being made up of at least 30% Rose I was in a foul mood. Add in the fact that it was incredibly windy and very cold as well, all whilst I was on time (which anyone who knows me knows this is a rarity in itself) and someone else was late. I suppose in a way that I have blown this a little out of proportion but the way I see it is that I am sure I will laugh about this in years to come however at the moment I am still narked. Mr Warehouse and I left there Saturday morning, hoping against all hopes, that the "Stagsden Hag" would not be the one handing over our keys the day before our wedding next year. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Crackling Idea!

Ola!

Still we are on our hunt for a videographer, however this time they are taking a back seat as Mr Warehouse and I start to look into catering again. Following the blog posts previous with our "The Gluttonous Guest List" and the dreaded "'W' Word" we have cautiously started to embark on the next voyage of discovery and financial entrapment! After settling down to a rough number for our guest list back before Christmas, we calculated a round figure and cost per head and sent it out to as many caterers as we could find and think of, stating that the event we were catering for was a "family meal" rather than the 'W' word as it seems to add on an extra thirty or forty percent to the total bill for no apparent rhyme or reasoning. Essentially this is still true since the only difference between a genuine family meal and a wedding is that I am going to be sitting in a fat white dress. 

Ideally, we were, still are really, looking for a sit-down meal consisting of 2-courses and finishing with our wedding cake as dessert handcrafted hopefully by a family friend. The catering facilities at Stagsden Village Hall are very basic and minimal as it is an old school house, however, they do have two ovens with hobs and a fridge plus crockery, glasses and tableware we are able to use. Now I was quite understanding, as was Mr Warehouse, that we were not going to get Foie Gras or Duck Breast for our wedding breakfast, however, we were anticipating something simple yet effective.

After multiple caterers coming back to tell us our budget was outside of what they could do for us, we had not one but two catering companies that were able to supply us with a quote and even some sample menus. My fiance and I had asked commonly requested things from anyone providing food for an event such as if the price included VAT or whether they work with fresh or frozen food and how would they handle last-minute requests or changes.  However, after several back-and-forth emails and questions, the caterers stated that "After careful consideration and a discussion with the team [the catering company] are unable to cater for your event, as it wouldn't be cost effective for us to do so due to your requirements and budget. Unfortunately we may have crossed wires throughout e-mails, as [the catering company] were unaware that the catering required was for a Wedding as no mention of this throughout the correspondence and that our Wedding packages start from £30.00 + VAT per head due to the preparation involved and the high standard of service we like to provide for our brides." 

Be it a wedding, family event or Uncle Eric's funeral, you would expect the same level of service and ergo the same price per head. But Ohhh No! Furious at being asked to pay nearly treble the original cost quoted, for a menu, Mr Warehouse and I were extremely happy with, I emailed them back. The catering company replied by attempted to justify the price increase, stating that they "feel from the original enquiry, there was a different impression of the type of catering and service required and anticipated only sending a maximum of two members of staff. We understand when you have said that you would not be fussy about the preparation, but for a Wedding, there will be a lot more involvement to go towards making your Day a special occasion and we can’t offer this type of service for under our standard Wedding price of £30 + VAT per head."

At the time I was so angry and just could not believe that the mere mention of the word wedding would increase the price by nearly twenty-quid per head! That is where my gorgeous Husband-to-be came in with his idea of Italian Family style eating. Imagine heaping platters of delicious food brought directly to the guests' table. No waiting in long buffet lines or figuring out which table goes first. Family style is a beautifully presented and relaxed style of dining, that makes guests or event attendees feel right at home. Platters, full of fresh food, delivered to each table so that guests can enjoy a relaxed meal without leaving their seats. Something I had never thought of, however, the more I think about it the more I like it. And again we are back at the drawing board, sending out quotation requests to as many caterers as we could find and think of and find within a thirty-mile radius. Ideally, we would be looking for a Hog Roast man, just as it is easy and most people are happy with that for a main along with a few pasta dishes, salads and tatties. Not only that but it also lends itself to being great for evening guests too as when the dancefloor becomes too hot they can chill out with a pig in a bun and crackling on the side!

Other than the catering, 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. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Key To Our Future

Ola Senors! 

Finally the day has come where Mr. Warehouse and I are within touching, tasting and smelling distance of our new home! To that in less than 24 hours I will be officially a homeowner, joining the league of people who end up staying at home binging on box sets and not going out on the lash for lack of money as every penny is been eaten up as they have joined the mortgage club. 

Gone are the days of controversial blog posts about "The Story of a Generation Robbed" and Wish I Was Born In The 80's! where I felt like a disadvantaged generation that has to fight for everything just to make ends meet. The world has moved on from the days of past generations and whilst I am now able to pay for just about anything using my mobile phone and share my opinion on something called "social media", my generation still struggles with the simple things such as getting a fair wage in the workplace and a decent place to live - Rented or Mortgaged! However, a few weeks ago I had a phone call from the Housing Association stating that the list of snagging given to the builders the last time over a fortnight ago had not been done at all and now we were to be expecting a provisional new Handover of 31st October 2018. But on top of all that was the bombshell that the floor plans we were initially shown at the point of sale were wrong. And not by a little either. 

The plan that my Fiance (I still like saying that) and I were sold was that on the ground floor as you come in the front door you would be greeted by the staircase on your right hand side. To your left would be the kitchen in a horse shoe shape with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall. Next door on the left hand side would be the downstairs bathroom which would include a privacy window facing out to our driveway. Entering through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be rectangular Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and leading out into our large garden through a patio door which would also have an adjacent window. Whilst the layout of the ground floor still contains the staircase on your right hand side and the same horse shoe shaped kitchen with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall, the downstairs bathroom was now to be positioned under the stairs on the right rather than the left meaning that a privacy window would not exist. Continuing through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be a now "L-shaped" Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and eating into the area where the downstairs bathroom was supposed to be. 

Upstairs on the first floor following on from the stairs positioned on the right-hand side of the property, we were expecting to have the main bathroom right in front of us with a large privacy window so as to allow for natural light, followed by the two double bedrooms to the front and the back of the property. Although this had changed from our initial plans and now will be the main bathroom sandwiched between the two double bedrooms and will not include a privacy window potentially making it dark and unnaturally lit.

After getting over the fact that the Housing Association knew all along that the floor plans, initial dimensions and specifications for the house had changed in the very early days of the build process, even before any bricks had been laid, I calmed explained that Mr Warehouse and I will need to view the property in person before we make any snap decisions. 

Of course she obliged and despite asking for months and months for a viewing of the property in whatever condition or state it was in within a few hours and by end of play that day we had a two hour slot to visit our new home and it's all new layout. Our contact at the Housing Association assured us that because of all of this that we would be well within our right to withdraw from our contract to buy going on to state that the responsibility would also live with the housing association in order to make payments to our solicitors, mortgage lender and mortgage broker, reimbursing us totally for our cost and making us at ground zero again. The other option we have is to suck it up and live with it, literally. 

Once my future Hubby and I had seen the property and had a chance to measure up not just the windows but also every nook, cranny and corner in order to draw up our own floor-plan we were already in the knowledge that both of us were highly committed to this purchase and with such a huge investment, the biggest any one person or couple will ever make in their lifetime, every penny of our savings we had was in this. The next few days myself and Mr Warehouse consulted our solicitor and further legal advice in order to ascertain what our next steps would be. With this in mind though, we did not have much choice but quite frankly selling us a house that was built completely wrong and not in the specified way we were told it would be is not on and I was angry. Still between decisions, I received an email from the Housing Association detailing that, nearly a week early, they had taken handover of the property finally and that we should probably consult our solicitor with a date for completion and move. 

A slightly presumptuous move I thought given the fact that we had not even accepted the property in its current new format, however after months of handover dates being missed, moved and postponed coupled with constant snagging and the odd issue thrown in for good measure, we finally had some good news! After looking at a couple of properties online and making the conscious decision that if we were to live in the flat much longer we would go insane or end up killing each other Mr Warehouse and I decided to take the adults decision and accept the property as it was. 

And so here we are with less than a fortnight left in our old, 18th-century-converted one-bed flat just outside the heart of Bedford Town Centre, I will soon be reporting to you from the idyllic countryside estates of Cranfield! Within the next twelve-hours money will be transferred several times over eventually ending up in the solicitors hand ready to go and for Mr Warehouse and I to finally get our hands on those stainless steel set of keys to our first ever home ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Drain-Pipe Dreams

Hiya, 

I suppose, as it is for most engaged couples another weekend in paradise and another wedding fayre Mr Warehouse and I are off to! What with having to call out breakdown yet again for no less than a third time in less than six weeks for my little Vivienne who was unable to start because of battery troubles and Mr warehouse encountering at very much a similar scenario with his motorbike stuck on a building site, outside our new home in the middle of the Bedfordshire countryside for nearly five hours as he awaited to be recovered back home we were certainly ready to have a relaxing couple of days off. After the week me and my Fiance (still love saying that) have endured we were more than excited to wander round wedding fayres at overly priced venues, sipping champagne to pass our time despite the miserable weather outside. 

Although I came crashing down to reality this morning when I received a phone call from the housing association. Answering I heard a familiar although melancholy voice on the other end of the line. Over the last few months the house had slowly ground to a halt in terms of any updates. After jumping through several hoops and bending over backwards in order to get our Mortgage Offer back in July of this year, Mr Warehouse and I was told that our initial handover date when the builders would have fully completed the property, inside and out, ready to hand over to the housing association that we were purchasing half of the property with would be mid-August. With this in mind we hoped that we would have a completion date and moving in prior to Mr Warehouse's birthday, plenty of time to move our stuff in and get settled with even a few moments to steal in our new garden before the sun eventually made its departure for the winter. Handover Date Move Number One! I was told that it would be another couple of weeks or so and with that Mr Warehouse and I prepared for a move around or even on the Bank Holiday Weekend in August!

However after hearing nothing and following the long weekend off, I spoke to the gentleman who had initially sold us our new home but sadly he did not have the news that we were hoping for and that the properties had not been handed over. Handover Date Move Number Two! In fact, what had happened that morning was a rather important and integral meeting between the builders and developers of the plots and the housing association. The local housing association had basically said that they were not happy with the standard of homes they were being given and that given the amount of snagging that needed to be done it may be some time before they would accept any sort of property from the builders and developers. Unfortunately the estate agents were not privy as to what the snagging was or how long it could potentially be. The reality was that it was all internal and nothing structurally was wrong with the build, theoretically meaning that the snagging could simply be down to the fact that the paint job isn't done to a high enough standard or that a screw isn't screwed in properly to a door handle. 

I asked for a new handover date so our little family could try and calculate a rough idea of a completion / exchange date and therefore a move date so we could organise things like TV, broadband and get some quotes or book a removal company for the big day. Again, I was told that it would be about a week and with that crap news returned to my desk and emailed the Boyf the bad news and although Mr. Warehouse and I had a few things planned on the run up to my birthday weekend we were still looking forward to moving into our new home shortly. 

However as we neared our third provisional handover date from the builders and developers to the housing association I had another phone call. Handover Date Move Number Three! It was at this point I nearly dropped the milk as the new handover date was being pushed until the end of December 2018. Frustrated and angry I had to keep calm and remember that I was in a lucky position that I would be one day able to afford my own place of safety, tranquillity and warmth; something that many people across the globe even tonight will not have. 

The following morning I checked my emails only to see a reply from the housing association, apologising profusely for the fact that they would have to postpone the handover date although with this came a small silver lining. Handover Date Move Number Four! The email did go on to say the new handover date was to be expected on the 28th of September 2018, three-months earlier than anticipated the day before. Mr Warehouse and I were assured that this would be the final change and hopefully everything would be handed over and we would be in our home just in time for Halloween! 

But sure as sure can be, as the date grew closer I had another dreaded phone call. Handover Date Move Number Five! As before I was told our new handover date would be would be postponed another week due to snagging and lack in quality that the Housing Association were expecting. Trying to hammer down an exact reason as to why the snagging was still continuing to be an issue and so I tried a softer approach in order to try and get a definitive handover date that would not move - Friday 5th of October 2018. 

As the next few days passed in a blur of meetings, I had a frantic phone call from Mr Warehouse asking if I had seen the most recent email from the housing association. I had not. On opening up my emails I could see what he was so upset and angry about. Handover Date Move Number Six! With less than 48 hours to go until we were expecting handover to take place, I was now reading an email that stated this would not be the case. Our new handover date? Over a fortnight away on Friday 19th of October 2018. Fuming and almost on the brink of losing my rag with everyone involved in our house buying process I called my contact at the housing association and asked her what gives. She basically told me in not so many words what I was reading between the lines of her email to me and the other future-neighbours on the street in that the list of snagging issues that had been brought to the attention of the builders had not actioned appropriately. Nothing more to say or do I ended the phone call and informed Mr Warehouse to keep him in the loop.

With the whirlwind of family dramas, wedding planning and my mounting workload I was looking forward to potentially having a week off to move into our new home, although cutting it fine for the spooky season of Halloween and "Trick-Or-Treat-ers". Only this morning I answered a phone call I had been hoping wouldn't come. Handover Date Move Number Seven! As with the last times the postponing was as a result of poor quality of work, although this time my Housing Association contact was not so coy with her responses. She blatantly admitted that the list of snagging given to the builder the last time over two-weeks ago had not been done at all and now we were to be expecting a provisional new Handover of 31st October 2018. But wait - There was more ... 

Continuing our conversation I could sense that the person on the other end of the phone line was nervous and anxious about something. It was then that she dropped the bombshell! Turns out that the floor plans that we were initially shown at the point of sale with the building specifications and dimensions were wrong. And not by a little either. The plan that my Fiance and I were sold was that upstairs on the first floor following on from the stairs positioned on the right-hand side of the property, we were expecting to have the main bathroom right in front of us with a large privacy window so as to allow for natural light, followed by the two double bedrooms to the front and the back of the property. Although this had changed from our initial plans and now will be the main bathroom sandwiched between the two double bedrooms and will not include a privacy window potentially making it dark and unnaturally lit.

On the ground floor as you come in the front door you would be greeted by the staircase on your right hand side as before. To your left would be the kitchen in a horse shoe shape with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall. Next door on the left hand side would be the downstairs bathroom which would include a privacy window facing out to our driveway. Entering through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be rectangular Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and leading out into our large garden through a patio door which would also have an adjacent window. Whilst the layout of the ground floor still contains the staircase on your right hand side and the same horse shoe shaped kitchen with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall, the downstairs bathroom was now to be positioned under the stairs on the right rather than the left meaning that a privacy window would not exist. Continuing through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be a now "L-shaped" Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and eating into the area where the downstairs bathroom was supposed to be. 

Shocked and Gobsmacked I asked about the reasons why this had happened and how out had only been now, several months down the line into buying our first time that we were finding these details out. Furious I was ready to call the builders and rip them a new arsehole. That was until my Housing Association contact explained that in actual fact the floor plans, initial dimensions and specifications for the house had changed in the very early days of the build process. The house builders and developers themselves had actually been very upfront with their decisions and had explained fully to the housing association the builders change in plans and layout. Unfortunately it would have appeared that this information was not passed through to the sales people within the housing association itself and that our property and our Semi'd neighbour were sold the properties on the basis of the homes being a completely different layout to what they were being built as. 

Taking it all in I ended the phone call and called Mr Warehouse immediately to try and discuss our options. The contact at the housing association of was sincerely apologetic for the fact that there had been a huge fuck up and had explained that because of all of this that we would be well within our right to withdraw from our contract to buy going on to state that the responsibility would also live with the housing association in order to make payments to our solicitors, mortgage lender and mortgage broker, reimbursing us totally for our cost and making us at ground zero again. 

The other option we have is to suck it up and live with it, literally. The fact of the matter was that Mr Warehouse and I were already highly committed to this purchase and with such a huge investment of most if not every penny of our savings we will have not much choice. Obviously in a way it is nice to see a housing association company as large as this one looking out its future customers, making sure that the homes are up to scratch and safe (even if it is on selfish terms as if anything was to go wrong we would be calling up the housing association to come and put it right rather than the builders or developers) but quite frankly selling us a house that was completely built not in the specified way we were told it would be is not on. 

And there I was saying that buying a house was not stressful at all. Where we go from here I don't know but one thing is for certain and that is that me and Mr Warehouse will need to view the property in person before we make any snap decisions. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Boiling Blood and Melting Hearts!

Heyy, 

Booking some much needed time away from my desk and off work was certainly what the doctor ordered. With the last few months being a bit of a whirlwind in terms of emotions and life events and as suggested by several people including Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat, I decided a couple of days off for rest and recuperation to relax has been beneficial. 

I did have a few things planned and on Wednesday I booked to get my hair done, but alas a relaxing afternoon in the hairdressers chair was postponed due to the fact of my hairdresser being poorly. As frustrating as that was it was annoying even more so as it was slap bang in the middle of the day at two in the afternoon and after it was cancelled with only half an hour to spare or so there was not much else I could do with my day. I suppose if I was a little bit more organised with my time then I could have found someone that would be able to do me a new 'do however I decided not to and just rebooked for a couple of weeks time. Here's hoping that none of my colleagues have the 7th of August off fingers crossed. 

Along with a nice long lye-in and some more crap daytime TV, Thursday started with going to my usual counselling sessions and therapy, although this week was the first of the NHS Treatments. The meeting itself was quite matter-of-fact and went through the different kinds of therapies the government in the UK now offers. Everything from group therapy sessions to CBT as well as one-to-one counselling and therapy however the waiting list is extremely long. It was suggested that the group therapy sessions would be better for myself although the two hour-long sessions either in the morning or an afternoon on a weekday may not be possible with my work schedule at the moment. I also question as to whether I would reap the benefits with up to ten people in a group. I suppose that it is just one of those things I will have to try and see if it works or not, and on the plus side I get to hear about other people's sob stories which will ultimately make me feel better about myself as harsh as that sounds. 

In the afternoon I had a doctor's appointment to discuss my ongoing medication and going forward with treating my depression. As expected the doctor has suggested that I continue with my medication at least for another month or so with a a check up in a month or so. Whilst the medicine I am on has finally stopped making me feel queasy and nauseous and regardless of how I feel much better and more back to normal, I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will need to continue my treatment with pills, at least for the short-term. 

As Friday soon rolled around, I was really looking forward mine and Mr Warehouse's to a spa day in London, courtesy in part to Nanny Pumpkin's Christmas present to us both. After using the voucher back in April when Mr. Warehouse and I went for our aweful spa day and afternoon tea (which was OK actually) hosted by the Loch-Stress Monster, I complained and the company who sold us the voucher agreed to offer a return visit to a selected spa of our choice. Booking it in last week, Mr Warehouse and I were excited to be spending some quality time together with what we expected to be a gorgeous fruit platter, welcome drinks and some relaxing treatments. Arriving at the spa in London's busy Soho District it was a bit of a palaver to try and find parking and get the tubes through to where we needed to be. By the time we arrived it was only moments before our first treatments which meant that we did not have enough time to explore the spa or indulge in some of the areas as listed on the website such as the ice cave, sauna, steam room, pool or relaxation area. In fact we didn't even have enough time to get anything to eat beforehand and since it was nearly lunchtime we were both famished. But it didn't matter too much since we had a lovely fruit platter and welcome drinks to look forward to ... Right?

Wrong! As we approached the spa reception in order to check in for our treatments, dressed only in our swimwear and flip-flops, my thoughts drifted to what sort of delights would be on our fruit platter and welcome drinks. A young woman in her mid-twenties checked us in and took our voucher code from us. On asking politely for our fruit platter and welcome drinks to be brought to us in the relaxation area, I was promptly told that the fruit platter and welcome drinks package were no longer offered and had been this way for about a year or so. This baffled me slightly as I had only booked spa day a week ago and already had a few email confirmations from another lady on site that clarified our treatments times as well as that elusive fruit platter and welcome drink. Seemingly not bothered at all the young girl called through to the top reception and spoke to the lady I had been emailing to clarify on the fruit platter and welcome drinks we were advertised when booking. In between the young girl holding the phone away from her ear and then putting it back again I thought about how I calling the customer service in this establishment is especially for Central London and what from the advertising of products and treatments did not seem to be a cheap place to spend your time. As the spa receptionist ended her phone call with the lady one floor up she explained again how the package was no longer offered and therefore would not be something if they would be able to accommodate despite priding itself on being in a central Westminster location with a prestigious postcode and a Tesco's only a moments walk away with all the fruit you could ever think of being on a fruit platter. I am almost certain that if even that was a stretch, that maybe a cup of tea or coffee would have sufficed but even this seemed to be a step too far and something that was not offered to us despite explaining the fact that we had not eaten anything in anticipation for the delicious package. 

Thus so far our spa day was shaping up to be a bit of a non-starter and considering this was a effort by the voucher company to restore faith in their products and services it certainly was not going well. Up until that moment, no one had showed us around the spa or what facilities they had so I asked if this would be possible. The young girl just simply sat behind her reception desk and added to the already lacking customer service by pointing to the different areas that we would be able to use. Walking around ourselves, Mr Warehouse and I explored the areas including the sauna, steam room, showers and relaxation area. I was extremely disappointed to learn that along with the fruit platter and welcome drinks the ice cave did not exist. There was little enjoyment to be found in the pool as there were several swimming lessons / classes going on and the rest of the pool dedicated to medium or fast swimmer lanes, something of which myself and Mr Warehouse were not told at the time of booking our spa day or indeed when we arrived. 

Frustrated and disappointed entirely we headed back to the relaxation area in order to try and unwind before our treatments. Whilst the spa was extremely clean and well kept there was a lack of facilities that were advertised on the website had been a major let down and combined with the fact that the relaxation area was centred right by the reception desk and the changing facilities made for a less than relaxing time with the constant noise of dryers, showers which wasn't ideal. Now I understand that a spa or similar type environments will need changing facilities, dryers and showers which generate noise, the presence of a cleaner hoovering and what can only be described as workmen either drilling or hammering something in an area down the corridor only disrupted us further. 

Even as Mr Warehouse and I attempted to get some peace and quiet, the clicking of the receptionist mouse could still be heard loud and clear, something which only reminded me of my own daily grind sitting behind a desk which hindered my ability to try and relax. I don't know, maybe it is just me but I simply cannot understand why you would have a "relaxation" area located somewhere that can still be polluted with noises from the daily coming and goings of what can only at this point be described more as a leisure centre than a spa facility. 

Quite frankly I just wanted to get changed and leave as what had planned to be a relaxing and enjoyable day together spending some quality time was certainly not what it cracked up to be. As I was called in for my back, neck and shoulder massage plus a full body exfoliation, I wasn't expecting much although I must admit that the treatments themselves were wonderful and helped to take my mind off of things - That was until I came out of the treatment room only to find out that my 55 minute combination of treatments had actually only taken less than 40 minutes, again leaving me deflated and upset with the level of service I have received. Mr Warehouse however did say that his treatments were lovely and that the lady had even taking extra care due to Mr warehouses skin condition, also gave him advice about his pedicure treatment and elaborating on how he can keep his feet in the best possible condition with similar and more regular treatments. 

As frustrating and disappointing as our spa day was, it was meant to be a happy time where we could relax and recuperate together, getting excited about finally getting a home of our own. I think that Mr Warehouse would join me in saying that the last few months life has been a poisonous melting pot of my mental health issues, Mr. Warehouse's own health worries mixed together with a good helping of work dilemmas, family problems and the stress of buying a house. 

Leaving thus far almost immediately after Mr Warehouse had finished his treatments, we headed to Battersea Dogs and Cats Home in order to say hello to some of the unfortunate friends of the charity. Wandering around and looking at all the doggies in their little cages made us so sad that we just wanted to take all of them home. I was quite surprised to see a good few greyhounds as I expected there to be more staffies and bull-type breed dogs. It turns out after talking to members of staff working there that the greyhounds had outlived their Racing days and therefore were cast aside due to no longer being able to compete. There were also a couple of smaller dogs which took my fancy including a German Spitz called Teddy, a cute Patterdale Jack Russell who was rather barky and a gorgeous Alaskan Malamute called Damien. Although sadly after having a conversation with one of the adoption ladies, we were told that the likelihood of getting a puppy would be slim to none as we work during the day and would need to be home in order to take care of it. I think for me at least, the fact that my puppy or new friend would be neutered is a bit of a sore subject as I would want a boy dog that I may or may not want to stud from in the future. I think that it is for this reason that I would probably more so get a dog from a registered breeder rather than a re-homing centre such as Battersea. Obviously with a few weeks left to go before we hopefully (fingers crossed) move house, getting a puppy or even a adult dog is certainly far from my priority list.

Suffice to say that I have enjoyed the time away from my desk and the constant ringing telephone with customers, however with that being said I am definitely glad to be back to work today and into the normal swing of things and a routine I am familiar with. That been said I better get a shifty on as I am due to be meeting Miss Tweedle-Dee for some sushi and a catch-up in an hour - No rest for the wicked 'eh?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx