Ahh The Youth Of Today!

Hello, 

I can certainly say that the last week has been much better than before. Whilst I am still stressed up to my eyeballs what with trying to find a solicitor that will actually communicate with me, source some little bits and pieces for our home and get a handle on my fluctuating depression, I have certainly found the last few days a little bit easier to deal with. Therapy this week was helpful and whilst I feel as though we are going over old ground with my mother and brother and that whole scenario, I feel as though this is a key component in trying to work out where I go from now and how best I go forward with my life and those in it. Life was just about manageable until Saturday morning happened. 

We had a new girl, maybe in her early twenties move in a couple of weeks ago, a lovely lass who seemingly appears to scrub up well when going on a night out and apparently had a toddler daughter that was due to be moving in with her soon. We hadn't spoken much to her if anything at all but seemed like she was a responsible and caring person, although sometimes the types of characters and people coming and going in and out of her flat were questionable sometimes. With most of her guests being young men or in their 20's and spending roughly about 20 minutes in her flat and then leaving, Mr Warehouse and I had our own ideas about what potentially they may be getting up to in such a short amount of time and I am sure you will make your own mind up also!

Saturday Morning however I was awoken at 6:45am by the iron gate at the side of our Alley-walk-way we shared with our new Neighbour being forcibly banged against the wall, clattering and clanging every time. Hoping it might have been the wind or rain bashing it against the wall periodically I rolled over, enjoying the free space that Mr Warehouse had given me when he went to work in the small hours of that morning. Not long after the clattering I heard a massive argument ensue which included grown men, about our age, yelling and shouting at each other. Getting up and out of bed to see what was going on I peered out of my bedroom window only to see fighting. 
"I've just buried my fucking Dad man and if your not careful I'll fucking bury you too" one lad shouted at another before storming off down the street, continuing the fight and even pushing and shoving each other on to the parked cars on the street. I heard the neighbours from upstairs shout down for them to pack it in. To be fair to them they did shut up for a short while before it erupted again, this time leading to glass bottles being thrown and smashed on the street outside our bedroom window. I could only assume that this was a drunken fuelled argument or spat that has happened between our new neighbours and/or her friends. 

Now honestly I don't mind the parties or even the copious amounts of lads that are in and out of that flat on a weekly basis, I am not bothered or fazed by this at all. However I am, I think, understandably pissed when I am awoken so early on a weekend morning to World War III kicking off outside my bedroom window. Thinking that there wasn't much left to do apart from just simply get up and have a coffee and maybe breakfast, I called Mr Warehouse and spoke to him about Jeremy Kyle Live that has just started outside our flat. Mr. Warehouse continued to explain that this had apparently been going since the very early hours over the morning when at three in the morning when he was awoken by our upstairs neighbours yelling down to the rowdy youths in order to keep the noise down as it was a quiet family street and we were all trying to sleep. When the Bae then went to work just a couple of hours later at 5 o'clock it was still going and whilst the music was quiet there was quite a lot of loud talking and running back and forth along the side of our Alley-walk-way. 

After the glass bottles were smashed outside on the street, there seemed to be a bit of a clean up operation in which the debris was cleared as best as possible, but with what appeared to be a spliff in one hand holding a red Cup probably containing a good measure of alcohol and the other hand in a desperate attempt to try and Sweep up what glass they could see with their beer Goggles on there is certainly a lot left to be desired. Flicking the kettle and rubbing my eyes I thank my lucky stars that I had my dressing gown on as two police officers were also called to the incident, I can only assume from the other residents on the street that were also awoken. Sipping my coffee as I watched some shit Saturday morning TV, all of which with one eye on the garden gate leading into our new neighbours flat of course. 

After summoning all my might to get dressed, I took the Pooch for a walk only to find that the glass was scarcely cleaned up and was still a bit of a mess, something which could also cause other children or other pets on the street harm not to mention possibly even puncturing Mr. Warehouse's bike when he comes home. I also noticed that because of the constant banging and slamming of the gate that our little sign is broken which welcomed visitors and warned them of our pup. Now whilst it cost under a fiver I still didn't appreciate that our property was being treated in this way and with such disrespect as well. 

Mr. Warehouse came home a few hours later and was the most angriest I have ever seen him. Seething, he ranted loudly about how disrespectful, rude and inconsiderate they were being. But what could we do? I had contacted my landlord a couple of hours after it had all kicked off and within minutes he had come storming round to the property, fuming that he was being taken for a ride and seemingly being made out to look like a mug. But now there were just as many people as before coming and going and coming back again, now even just standing around and having conversations in our garden. I felt quite uncomfortable and judging from the amount of alcohol that was going into the flat and comings and goings, I very much doubted that this would be ending anytime soon. 

Messaging my landlord again in one last ditch attempt to try and get something sorted before it's all got out of hand again. As before, within a few moments of me sending the message there was a car screeching to a halt and parking up outside. Not thinking much of that I saw my landlord storm right through past our flat and into the our new neighbours garden, banging on the glass and ushering for the lass to come out. 
"Woah who the fuck are you mate!" one bloke yelled obviously upset that his potential Beau had another older man banging at her window. 
"I'm the landlord of this place"  he answered as he marched the girl to the front of the property where they had a heated discussion, I can only assume (because I did not have my window open - Silly me) that she was being read the riot act and as a result would have to be on her best behaviour in order to keep a roof over her head. 

I think all of that had happened on Saturday without my Approval In Principle / AIP and Mr Warehouse and buy in the process of moving soon, it's almost certainly would have made my mood even worse. Not long now!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Magnets, Gold and Bubbles - All in the Name of Beauty!

Hello, 

Surely I can't be the only one that feels like today has been ever so long for a Monday. So busy. So many calls. So many issues. So many things to do. My weekend feels like it was years ago! Oh good lord send me back. It started well as after healthy eating I weighed myself in for the first time in months after initially starting my diet-that's-not-a-diet. And I lost! Half a stone, so not huge amounts but a great start and has really spurred me on. With the week I had as well what with visiting Cadbury's World and then having chocolate cake every day after dinner as Mr. Warehouse bought us a serves-sixteen massive chocolate cake. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I actually made the effort. 

Anyway after an early start seeing Mr. Warehouse off to Eurogamer EGX in Birmingham with Mr. CWG, I headed home and revelled in having the bed back all to myself as I slumbered until mid-morning, snoozing with the dog, watching pointless Youtube videos on crap and snuggling alone! People have often asked what Eurogamer EGX is and from what I know (which isn't much since I have never been) is basically a convention for all the new games that are coming out in the next few months on the count down to Christmas! The classics were all there including Call of Duty, FIFA and Far Cry as well as the smaller lesser known games that are attempting to break into the hard market of gamer-pleasure. As well as the host of games on offer there is also a abundance of talks discussions and places to buy merchandise from brands and gamer's themselves who are well established on Youtube, Twitch and other gaming networks. A small part of the event from what I have heard is of Comic Con also plays a large part in the day with people from all walks of life dressing up in everything from Manga and Anime to Pokemon and other gaming characters. What is slightly off putting for myself would be the fact that whilst you are playing your game, after waiting potentially anywhere up to four-hours or more, that other people are staring at you, literally face up against the glass watching you play a game. Weird if you ask me. 

Back to my comfy bed all to myself, but alas I had to get up, for I needed to be at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house ready for a night of pampering. But first I caught up on some telly and took pooch for a nice long walk in a local park and nature spot. After our walk I thought that in the good spirit of it nearly being Halloween I would head into town and look at some of the charity shops in order to try and piece together an outfit or at least get some sort of inspiration for what myself and Mr. Warehouse would be going as. In the next six weeks we have three fancy dress parties to go to, an eighties theme, a nineties theme and a Halloween one. Normally by this time of the year in late September I am all set and ready for Halloween with an outfit planned already, however this year I am again leaving it till last minute it would seem with the eighties themed party less than a fortnight away. 

With town centre charity shops being a let down I figured I should maybe just head down to "Home" early and maybe pop in to see some family whilst I'm there. Having a catch-up with my Auntie and Uncle is always cathartic as it makes me realise just how far I have come from the scared little 17 year old that ended up living with them all those many moons ago. And my cousins are growing up ever so fast too, the eldest nearly the same height as me?! Jumping back in the car I took the normal route I would through the winding streets and villages surrounding my home ground to Miss Tweedle-Dee's. Suddenly it hit me, Vivienne and I whizzing through the meadows. If my life had a not have taken the term that it did all those years ago, if my father didn't have an affair, if parents didn't divorce and if I had gone to Uni, I could be still taking this route home after visiting my Auntie, Uncle and Cousins to my old family home where I spent most my childhood, maybe to have dinner or maybe to get ready for a night out on the tiles. Maybe we as a family would be meeting my Brother's girlfriend for the first time or maybe I would be the one bringing home a boy! As surreal as it was I soon snapped out of it and wondered would I be there person I am now today? No I would probably be even more entitled than I think I am, with an additional side order of arrogance and sass. I would be the princess of my family and rule the roost as such being the only niece, daughter, sister and granddaughter. 

Arriving at Miss Tweedle-Dee's we all settled in for a night of wine, pizza and pampering. Starting off with make-up I started out with a sexy smokey eye and vampy Halloween lips, however I then found some glittery blue eye stuffs and before I knew it I looked like a man in drag. Wiping it off and resetting our faces we began the detox that was starting with a bubble face mask. Now for those of you that have been hiding under a rock or just avoiding Instagram for the last year or so, bubble face mask's are the latest time to hit the beauty industry from our good friends over in the east. Applying the creamy yet gooey consistency to your face, watch as your face starts to tingle and almost feels as though you have popping candy on you. After a few moments you will start to see small bubbles appear on the surface where the cream once was and in time your face or blow up to look like a massive Storm Cloud complete with chipmunk cheeks and poofy features. 

Cleansing afterwards we then all tried what I thought personally was the best beauty treatment yet. Magnetic Face Masks and T-Zone cleaners. Applying either all over your face or alternatively in areas where you feel there may be more toxins than others such as the t-zone, on your nose, forehead, cheeks or chin. Letting it sit and absorb the toxins from your pores a while later you can grab a hold of the magnet that the product comes with and gently rub it over the skin and without actually making contact with the covered area you will see and feel how it just pulls it away from your face, attracting the product back. This is 100% something I will be adding to my Christmas list this yeah and definitely would recommend it to anyone. 

Heading to bed, tired and sleepy, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Momma-Dee and others all agreed will certainly be doing that again for sure, Oooh, just think of the Christmas looks we could all do on each other with make-up and nails as well as what new fad face thing comes out. Maybe next time we'll even ramp it up with a Lazy-Boy spa for the weekend! Ahh Bliss ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Taking One For The Team!

Hallo!

Following the fun and frolics of last weekend at Bovingdon Market, this weekend was a lot more laid back and easy going, despite Mr Warehouse working on Saturday morning that is. Nevertheless I was glad for the relaxed weekend that we had together as come Monday morning I had a big challenge on my hands. 

For one reason or another during the office move from our old establishment, it would have appeared that the holiday board had been mislaid and therefore lead to several key kingpins in the management department being off at the same time, two of which are from my department in service. At first when I learnt that I was going to be heading up the service team for the next week I was nervous, but I soon realized that maybe this is the opportunity to prove my worth and make people realize that I am not just a twenty something looking for a job. I am a serious woman that is looking for a career before settling down to have children. I want to earn my money and gain a higher position within the company and the only way to do so is to prove my value as a team member and also as someone who will be able to lead. 

Today was my first day of the week (obviously being Monday) and whilst I had started on the back foot with another member of the team being off sick I felt that I was able to handle the day well, managing both my engineers and also the customers. I shan't go into great detail about what the issues were throughout the day however there was the normal stuff as well as a few Curve-balls and sticky problems that I eventually resolved, even if it did take me to 6.15pm. 

Did I enjoy being in charge? I think to be honest it is too soon to say, especially since it is only Monday. However, it is safe to say that I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that I am the one that people look to for help. Now I know how big headed that sounds and that I am really blowing my own trumpet, but with the amount of pitfalls that I had today I am almost certain that tomorrow and the following days I can handle anything. A part of me really misses being the only one there and in charge of the whole team. Back when I worked with Mr Warehouse at our last job's, I was the only one in charge and although the division that I was looking after was small, almost overlooked in some instances when compared to the Nationwide company, it was still my baby and I had brought it up from the absolute dirt ground. When I left, the division was blossoming into something seriously worth considering for future development and growth. Over the years that it took me to build up the rapport with customers as well as the engineers and sales people, I earned my respect both internally with work colleagues as well as on a national level with directors and big-wigs alike. 

Whilst I can look back on my time at the company with Rose-tinted-glasses I sometimes need to remind myself that it was far from perfect and take into consideration the fact that things were starting to go downhill and from a management perspective, it was probably for the best that I jumped ship sooner rather than later, only to be forced to find something else. Now don't get me wrong I absolutely adored the people that I worked with and my job I lived for. Some people say that if you love your job you will never work a day in your life and working for my previous company could not have been any closer to the truth. However the money that I got was not great and as an employee I felt undervalued and underpaid for the amount of work I did, with very little thanks along the way. 

Moving to my new company (I say new but it has been almost a year) has certainly been a breath of fresh air and this week can only confirm for me that I am desperate for something more than just a job to pass time until I have a family. I can see myself in years to come running my own team and looking after people beneath me. Maybe customer service or customer relations, maybe a smaller division of the service desk running my own team of engineers. I don't know, but what I do know is that I will ace this week. Women run this country throughout the two world wars and we're probably the only reason why we were able to be so successful, so I am sure that I can hold down the fort for the service team. And despite the initial setbacks and the fact that there was a major hiccup in the holiday-authorisation department, I am kind of grateful for it happening this way as I feel that I have the time to shine and show everyone what I am made of. Being a manager, I don't know yet but I am definitely willing to give it a go, at least for a week anyway ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

New Life, New Swag!

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last week's cheese Saga, Mr. Warehouse and I have since binned the smelly, perfumed cheese and instead bought a stronger variety and something a lot more palatable. And to think that the next shop I will be doing for our monthly food will be after our holidays. Speaking of which, with exactly a month to go today, me and Mr. Warehouse I'm nearly fit to bursting with looking forward to our first beach holiday together. After nearly three-and-a-half-years together I can hardly believe that we have never had a beach holiob. 

In preparation for such event it would only be fair that we would hit the shops for some new clobber. Now despite having a wardrobe fit to burst I still have the absolute urgency to buy holiday clothes. I have tops and skirts, and along with my myriad of kimonos, dresses and bikinis, all of them virtually worn a handful of times, all in all I know in my heart of Hearts that I really do not need any more clothes. However a unicorn pool float and a towel with pockets is still on my shopping list. Normally I don't care too much about what I look like or how I will look in photo's as there is a common understanding in the female world that we will just simply edit our way to perfection. Mr Warehouse is a boy and to put it bluntly does not understand it. Whilst I am told almost everyday that I am beautiful without all of the make-up and hair by my wonderful boyfriend, I still want to make sure I look good on holiday, and even more so when we will be spending so much time together. 

You might hazard a guess that Mr Warehouse was much more of a simple person, buying something only if he needs it and not because it's on sale. And for the most part you would be right in thinking this, as throughout the week he wears a uniform (lucky bugger) and as a result never wears normal clothes unless it is a date night or it is the weekend. However, this weekend after just been paid, both of us decided to head off to Bovingdon Market, which was originally Miss Tweedle-Dee's idea just to have a mooch around the 'designer brands'.From household goods such as knife blocks, pillows and carpets right down to the knock-off-nigel Timberland boots, Ralph Lauren T-shirts and Michael Kors handbags. You name it and Bovvy had it. And all for a fairly reasonable price. Well most of it anyway. Arriving to pick Miss Tweedle-Dee up for once I was earlier than expected. I even had to stop so someone (AKA Mr. Warehouse) could feel his face with a McDonald's breakfast, complete with extra hash brown. Nevertheless I chose the healthier life and opted for Latte with a Banana and Yogurt from home which I never actually got to eat as I was driving. As I explained to Miss Tweedle-Dee as she got into my newly MOT'd Vivienne; I am not on a diet  - I am just simply healthy eating. 

With less than four weeks to go until I am on a beach in Tenerife I certainly feel more pressure on this holiday with Mr Warehouse then I do with the girls. I don't know maybe it is the environment that I now find myself in on a daily basis. Verses my old office where I spent my days with a ragingly posh lesbian, a hackney city girl and an old man verging on retirement. Now I am in an office full of beautiful girls and women (As well as you men - You know who you are) who make an effort every day with their appearance. Applying make-up and doing their hair nice and pretty, a part of me honestly wonders why they bother. I am not single and there is no hot men to flirt with at work so what is the point. Equally I feel it is nice that we collectively all seem to make an effort maybe not necessarily for our co-workers but more-so for ourselves as women. 

I also get the feeling that life in my new(ish) office is to be constantly looking your best at face value is not the end of it. There is the Instagram's, Facebook updates and selfies to contend with. I feel like such a typical 'twenty-something-girl' by being desperate to get an invite to a fitness class or invited out for dinner or for a quiet night in with a bottle or two. It is a more sophisticated way of socialising that I am not sure I am accustomed to yet, although I am sure than in time the constant conversation about Love Island or what is at the top of my Spotify playlist will make a difference. A little part of me wonders whether I can ever go back to feeling my absolute self at work, discussing every little niggle in life and talking through all my problems with girlie work colleagues, both inside and outside of the office - But on the other hand, maybe I am not meant to be my full self at work, just the professional version of me. Maybe its just time to move on ... 

Anyhoo, arriving at the market it bought all the fun of it back when Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would all come down with one of our parents and I would look at all the handbags and shoes, hoping that one day I can afford to buy whatever I wanted and not just what the pocket money in my purse would get me. After scouting round from top to bottom of the market, perusing all the goods that everyone had to offer and working out which places we were going to buy what from we walked away with some supposedly John Lewis plush pillows, some pretty ballerina pumps with pom-poms on them, RayBan Sunnies, some T-shirts for Mr. Warehouse holiday wardrobe and some gorgeous smelling bath-bombs for me. A successful weekend I would say ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Hello New Boobs!

Bonjourno!

With Sleigh-bells a-ringing in my ears and the fast approaching nip in the air hinting at snow, I decided to spend a weekend away from the other half and with the other love in my life - Miss Tweedle-Dumb. And since Miss Tweedle-Dee was sunning herself up on a family holiday in America (Second time to he States this year the Jammy git!) I thought that there was no better time than the present to have a nice catch up with my sister from another Mister. And with less than a week until she flew out to Rome on a romantic Anniversary/Christmas getaway with her boyfriend and even less shopping days to find a dress for her works Christmas Party I felt her pain and distress. 

Joining her at the Greek restaurant back home in Dunstable, we shared a wonderful medley of meze dishes including Vine Leaves, Halloumi Cheese, Filo Pastry Sacks and chunks of grilled meats. And oh how I do love a selection of little foods that take me back to a holiday. To think that it was about eight weeks ago that Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I all returned from our Greek adventure and now it was nearly Christmas! Nevertheless as we sat and discussed the world and all of her problems, one by one we sorted them out and finally after finishing the overpriced wine we left and headed back to the warmth of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family home where we would spend the rest of the night in fits of giggles before falling asleep together on a blow-up bed in the dining room. 

Oh but I had the best dream ever! So there I was - Setting the scene for you now; Grey city, New York I assume. Tall, tall buildings. Everything in muted colours, Grey, Brown, Black, Olive, Maroon. Then I find myself in a lift lobby or landing of an apartment suite. Evan Peters (From American Horror Story and Kick Ass - General Hot topic in my eyes and someone I would love to see under the mistletoe this holiday season) is there. He says how beautiful I am. But I am with Mr. Warehouse. I can't! Can I? Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee who I am holidaying in the city with are supportive, unusual as in that situation they would have been very opinionated and forceful in me staying faithful to Mr. Warehouse. Over the course of the dream which felt a blissfully long, the more time I spent with Evan the more colours I saw, each of them brighter than the last. Then one evening before my flight back that evening I was presented with some dresses by Evan's maid/Mom. So Many styles, all of them long and flowing ball-gowns in various technicolour, although still dull in colour - Plum, Forest green, Gold, Chocolate, Aubergine, Sea green, Midnight blue and Ruby red. I wanted them all and yet I felt I could not have them as they were not mine to keep. Confused, I had a premonition in my dream that Evan was going to propose to me. I saw the ring and him buying it, just as I had always imagined, gold band with a Blue/Black Sapphire enclosed by crystal clear diamonds. It was not long before I was standing back in the lift lobby or landing of Evan's New York City apartment suite. I explained I had to go. My Work's Christmas party was in a matter of hours and I still had to board a plane and get back to the UK. Evan held me closed, pulled me into his warm chest and embraced me like no-one had done so in a while. I knew then that this was something special. Evan said that I was something very special and that Mr. Warehouse was a very lucky guy to have me. I tore myself apart to look one last time into his beautiful brown eyes and pulled me in close. Somewhere I could hear music. Sad and slow. 

Gradually I was pulled out of the dream and back to the reality of sleeping underneath a plant pot in Miss Tweedle-Dumb's dining room. Oh the sadness, the shear and utter sadness at the realisation that my dream with Evan Peters was not reality! Genuinely the saddest and most melancholy I have ever awoken from a dream, even though there was not sex or kissing involved there was a romantic and lustful connection I felt stronger than I have felt in waking life with anyone. Reading up on the dream and its meanings later on in life (as you do) made me realise that there was more to the dream than just some intense emotions and posed some unavoidable questions that needed answering rather than just burying my head in the sand and ignoring it all. 

Getting up and getting dressed I mourned my dream in New York with Evan Peters still even as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got in her little car and made our way to the shopping centre, arriving just in time for some poorly prepared breakfast, followed by some equally poor service. In search for a dress, appropriate for a Work's Christmas party which has sleeves to hide bingo wings and a skater skirt to hide the other multitude of yearly sins. seemed to be harder than I thought. Too long, too short, too tight to expensive, no arm coverage! Nothing seemed to fit the bill! Angry and annoyed we tried our luck at Pepperberry and Bravissimo, hoping that the niche market of larger busts would cater to the already well endowed Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Not finding anything we liked and with half hour to kill before our manicures we decided to have a bra fitting! And boy oh boy am I glad we did. 

Turns out that for the decade or there about, I have been wearing the completely wrong bra size. I had been told a few weeks before that I was the wrong size by someone but chose to ignore it thinking I was just having a good posture day or something. But no. I had been wearing a size B to C cup since I was about sixteen. I am now ... wait for it! A size DD to an E cup!? Thats like going from Gwyneth Paltrow tits to which aren't half bad to Kelly Brook boobs! It was a transformation that happened in the space of ten minute and my god have they changed my outlook on life. I was so down trodden with the hassle of dress shopping and stress of it all and yet someone handing me a better fitting bra and confirming I have massive Bap's has not only put me in a good mood for the rest of Saturday but for the rest of the week it seems since I cant stop talking about my new boobs. I have told the warehouse guys, I told the engineers at work, my sales rep's, heck I even told Mr. Warehouse's family round the table at afternoon tea Sunday afternoon. I love my boobs and how big they are. I can't wait to see what happens in different dresses and outfits and how much better I looked after buying all these new bra's! Even today wearing my first properly fitted bra in years I felt invincible! Come on work place give me your shitty comments and your snidey office politics remarks, I shall rebuff them with my bountiful breasts! Crappy customer? WHO CARES I HAVE BIG TITS! I am in love with myself all over again which for an egotistical, hedonistic, slightly controlling megalomaniac seemed impossible! 

And yes so whilst in the grand old scheme of things that Shopping on Saturday was fruitless in terms of a dress for either mine or Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Christmas Works Do, we found out with both have new boobs! A very productive day! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Deep Joys Of Dreamboys!

Morning One and all, 

Racing out of work I had battled the Friday afternoon traffic, picked up milk and bread and even posted a couple of items before heading back home to an eager Mr. Warehouse. But oh no, it wasn't him I was buzzing round like a headless fly for, no, no. My best friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were coming over. Not only that but we were heading out. Although much to my dismay not for a messy night out on the tiles. Nope, tonight was the last little dribble of my birthday surprises ... Tickets to see Dreamboys Live! Now if you don't know what or who Dreamboys are I urge you to head and check them out as I am terrible at explaining what theyre job description is. I tried to explain to my dear Nanna the other day that I was going to the theatre and after asking what acclaimed performance I was planning to watch I had to explain to her that these men barely kept any clothes on let alone bagged a Tony award. The same went for the poor shopkeeper on the way back to my flat after the show when he asked what our plans were we sheepishly answered that we had been in the company of the Dreamboys that evening and then ensued a conversation and explanation as to what the Dreamboys were.  I think by the end of the whole Charade that people just asked us so we would squirm and wonder what we should tell them we had been up to that evening. 

Nevertheless it was a wonderful evening beginning with the staple trip to the local Spoons (AKA Wetherspoons Pub) for a few bevvies and some dinner before the real show. Heading out into the cold Autumn air I pulled my coat around me, thankful that I wasn't spending a lonely night in with Jonathan Ross or Graham Norton on a Friday Night. But as we arrived closer to the venue I suddenly didn't look so out of place, dressed up in my heels and nude dress whilst my friends donned a more casual wear of Converse and Jeans which far more comfortable than what some of the other audience members were wearing. Finishing our cigarettes we sneaked in and found our seats. The venue, Bedford Corn Exchange, whilst being in the town centre was surprisingly comfortable to hold a show of this calibre and size I thought. Whilst not the biggest show on earth, the hall was packed out and as this was my first time visiting since being a very small child with my father accompanying him to a military 'do', I found the place beautiful and made me want to explore its beauty even more after the chairs, bleachers and stage were all gone. 

Awaiting the men on stage I took a look at the level of attractiveness this room possessed against myself. There were girls, mostly young, but a few not so, but almost all of them that were young and I suppose in a sense sharing the same age category of myself being late-teens and early twenties (Shhh, I can still try to get away with it!) all skinny size 10's with long hair, manicured nails and cracking dress sense. But it made me wonder how many of them actually had a man at home like I did. Sure they may be young and pretty, but they can't be the actual face of Rimmel all the time and at some point those fake eyelashes and biscuit tan have to come off. Would a guy still fancy them if they were dressed a little more normal in a pub? Maybe? (I know that in my defence when on a night out men feel or at least I feel that they are less threatened by me as I am probably more normal looking and closer to the-morning-after-result that Little Miss Twinkle-Tits over there swigging her sixth Smirnoff Ice) Would a Dreamboy give them a second look? And there you have it. The crux of the issue is that most girls think that to be with a Ken you need to be a Barbie and I suppose yes, but for how long before a Cindy or a Shelly comes into the picture. This got me thinking and yes, whilst I was about to watch an mirage of godly men on the stage in front of my very eyes, like porn, Santa and those Nigerian-Uncle emails they were all fake. 
Real men aren't like that. Real men are hairy and burp and fart ... And then laugh about it. Real men buy their girlfriends Haribo when they least expect it just because 'they were in the shop and knew that you liked them'. Real men can cry at Disney films and have absolutely no qualms attempting to squeeze into a Little Red Riding Hood Costume for Halloween. I love real men.

As the lights went down and the show began I looked to my two best friends and asked what we were all about to encounter. Curtains opened and screams filled the room as the act began to swish and turn in provocative move that would make even the Vicar blush. But as I hooted, whistled and screeched at all the scantily clad men on stage during their 'performances' I couldn't help but wonder what we were all doing here. Why had every person in that room purchased a ticket and why was the general population of those tickets bought by women? Well who else other than a few errant gay guys would want to see naked men on a pedestal of sorts, flashing their genitalia and creaming themselves up for another lucky lady, or man in some instances. I pondered across the ideas that whilst the media slams men for gawking at Page 3 (which is now sadly no longer with us due to a boring-arse feminist campaign to ban it) and now women are shunning men even holding doors open for them or having a friendly wolf-whistle in the street, it is somehow widely accepted that women are allowed freely and with little or no confrontation to go about acting the same way towards men straight out of a Diet Coke Advert. 

Now I am not trying to get everyone's back up but this seriously crossed my mind as I enjoyed the show on Friday night which believe you me, I enjoyed one hell of a lot. So much so I am thinking about going next year. But I just couldn't shake the fact that if the roles were reversed and it was hordes of men sat here with Victoria Secret-esk models on stage would it still have the lack of Media attention?! The truth is no. Why? I don't know. But what I do know is that if you are prepared to have the conversation about media portraying women in such a sexualised and revealing way then you must be prepared to say the same for the way that women can be just as animalistic and hungry when on the hunt for a man dressed and painted in the same seedy, sexual light as Page 3. 

Honestly, I don't see the problem with it. I thoroughly enjoyed the show and all that were involved with it but that was just it. It was a show. Something make-believe and pretend. The normal likes of me and you would probably never end up with a man like one of those oiled up for all female eyes to see. And besides would you really want to when you can see, barely when stripped to the nude, just how much athletics and hard work goes into a man of that build. The same with the women in the audience, crying out to be next in line for a dance. They make such an effort staying slim, constantly re-applying make-up and even considering going under the knife all for the title of Beautiful. I suppose if that night taught me anything at all (apart from some cracking sexy dance moves) that we all have our own body insecurities, both Men and Women - All of us seen in the media as unrealistic, airbrushed, new and improved versions of ourselves. Yes. We all want to be beautiful and gorgeous, but it is about perspective and learning who you are and loving who you are, inside and out. Because whilst I enjoyed the show in all its glory and splendour, I knew that I was going home that night to my very manly, very real Dreamboy. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Baby Brain!

Hallo there!

I hope this week finds you all in good health and enjoying the British weather we are having at the moment, unless you are in the Bahamas and reading along or somewhere else hot and sunny to which I congratulate you on your choice of weather and hope someone brings you a cocktail soon. 

This week I am feeling much better than I have been with a mixture of Hayfever, a hectic workload and not much sleep resulting in me feeling grumpy of late. However this weekend, spending it with friends, family and good food, all in the sunshine washing it down with copious amounts of Blossom Hill has obviously had a positive impact on me. Something else that has had an impact on me, and possibly put me in a favouring mood is children. To be more specific I should explain before someone starts throwing pregnancy tests at me! No I am not pregnant, or at least I think I am not anyway, but at Sunday's BBQ with Mr. Warehouse and his large family clan I felt more than ever that time was a-ticking and that my womb should probably be put up for rent in the next few years. 

I am almost positive that every girl my age has this problem though. There we are in the prime of our life, beautiful and as wonderful as we probably ever will feel. But at the back of our minds we know that there is only a limited amount of time that we have to procreate in. The hurry to get a career, find a man, settle down and start churning out sproglett's is immense and so is the pressure. Careers are limited now, and dating opportunities once college and university is over and done with are relatively slim unless you brave the dark depths of Internet dating. Forgive me for thinking so, but life seemed so much easier for our grandparents. I mean, you were cooped up in education until you were sixteen or so, then you found a nice job working in an office as a typist. Soon a young man would see you about town and ask you on a date. You would go jiving in a 1950's dance-hall and end up courting until your father was approached for your hand in marriage. Before you know it your 2.5 kids a dog and are looking like something out of a Betty Crocker cook book - Or at least in my head I am! Now I am sure that isn't perfect for everyone but for me it would and I am slightly disappointed in the fact I never made it to Uni and therefore maybe never met my future husband?

All of that aside however, if you had asked me a year ago, or even six-months ago, what my opinion of children, especially babies, was I would freeze with fear. Scared by snotty noses, nervous of nappies and wary of whimpers I had successfully avoided all contact with small humans for many years, even my own little cousins. However, over the past few months since Mr. Warehouse and I have been together I have felt increasingly more comfortable around children and babies, although granted I wouldn't know how to look after one on my own. I somewhat cockily think that I will just pick it up. Can't be that hard surely?! There just little people. "Who depend on you for everything" my inside voices say menacingly. And then it dawns on me how horrible that feeling must be. You can't have a lie-in. You can't just hit the town for a girls night out. You can't just make a quick detour after work to Debenhams just because you want to have a look for a nice pair of heels - Hell you can't even wear heels now your a mom! Leggings and flat footwear only for the school run and even then that's only after you have made several packed lunches and have prevented world war three from happening over Cornflakes or Coco Pops. 

I know that I am only twenty-three but I am well aware that I am not in a stable enough relationship or even financially strong enough for a child right now, let alone my living arrangements and lifestyle. People, and possibly more-so girls always question I find about "What would happen if I found out I was pregnant right now?" and I honestly think my answer is simple. I just don't know. Maybe before I would have said I would choose adoption or in some certain cases abortion, but maybe now my mind would change right now with my life as it is - A stable stead job, a good and loving boyfriend and a place of my own. Albeit it would be very far from perfect and the life I have wanted for myself from such a young age I think I would still learn to manage. After all, that is my job. 

I would definitely have to move somewhere bigger, leaving behind my pent house apartment with its sloped-ceiling, and cosy feel. Instead trading it in for somewhere more practical and with less stairs. I would at some stage have to think about giving up work to take maternity leave to live a life at home juggling Cbeebies, pots of 'HiPP' and a never ending rota of washing, instead of engineers and job paperwork. During pregnancy I would have to give up all the good things like wine, eggs Benedict and smoked salmon. I would have to sleep on my back and not my tummy as I usually do and would end up waddling more than a duck with a chaffing problem. All of this coupled with the lack of freedom, sleep and constant anxiety - Yes, I don't think I would enjoy motherhood as a twenty-something with her life full steam ahead. I would want to do it the proper way; Travel a bit, get a good job, nice place to live, meet someone and fall in love, move in, get married, and then start a little clan of my own. 

All that said though I kind of like the idea of being someone's sole provider. Their playmate, their comforter, their mother. I would be the kind of parent that would let them stay up and watch horror films (but only after I had watched them first to make sure they're not too scary). I would be the kind of mom that would rustle up some freshly baked goods when a broken heart is in need of mending. I would like to think that I would be that "hawt" soccer Moom that has all the kids round and secretly shares out some vodka between them all , in moderation of course. Hmm, yes. I think that motherhood would suit me in a way but there is a lot to do before we get there. Besides, a white picket fence and a four-bed detached isn't going to fund itself you know. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Frisky Frolic's and Festival Fiasco's!

Good Afternoon All, 

So as many of you will know from last week's post I have had a bit of a busy week and an even more manic weekend. After arriving home Monday evening and writing to you all I was up at the crack of dawn next morning to go into work to sign some papers and inevitably I couldn't help myself but to get stuck in for a couple of hours. What can I say though I am a self-confessed control freak who hates to leave her desk knowing that, like most things, no one else can quiet to it better than little old me. Nevertheless I thought I would use my time wisely and head to town afterwards to run some errands. Whilst shopping and collecting things for the weekend ahead I decided to catch up with Mr. Cheese whom was in town himself having coffee with his cousin. 

Obviously feeling the awkwardness she left pretty quickly leaving Mr. Cheese and I to talk about what we have been up to and how life was now we were separated. Not dwelling on it too much Mr. Cheese suggested lunch. Tucking into a bagel I felt awkward still as the fact that this was not a romantic lunch date with a boyfriend played on my mind. Shoving it to the broom cupboard of my head we ate lunch and as the afternoon progressed we eventually found ourselves on my sofa back at my flat. Flirting had commenced as soon as we met and being alone on the sofa that seemed to start all of our sexual encounters did not seem to hinder the situation. leaning in for a cuddle I stayed strong and held my ground telling myself not to give in. I knew that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb would have a field day if they knew my Ex was even within two-metres of my sofa let alone pinning me down on it with snuggles. Slowly I felt a hand on my arse. 

"Are you trying to seduce me Mr. Cheese?" I asked in a deep, coyly sexy voice reserved for only special occasions. I was greeted with an equally deep and husky answer. Being told that it was false of habit only made the resisting that much harder and after some more breathy, wanting phrases we were naked and having the most passionate, hot afternoon sex that I can ever remember having. Taking it to the bedroom for a little nap I curled up in his arms like we used to do. Just before I drifted off into a relaxed and tension-less slumber I heard a whisper. 

"You know when you left mine last Sunday. Well when I went to bed that night I could smell you in the bedsheets. It made me think of you. I've missed you." Said my Ex quietly. Thinking about what he had said and all the wonderful things we had made me question yet again why I was calling him and Ex. Snoozing most of what was left of the day away Mr. Cheese made damn well sure I didn't forget the last time as he brought me as close to an orgasm as I think I have ever had. Shaking and trembling I could tell that he was breathing in as much enjoyment as I was giving out. Shuddering to a climax I couldn't help but take him again as I climbed on top to go once more! 

As the evening set in I prepared for the weekend festival-ing and packed my bags with minimal effort compared to my friends whom I was in constant contact with right up until the early hours. In between cramming in extra pants and the odd hopeful condom I chatted away about what I was taking and how I was packing it all. Panicking we called it a night and headed to bed, my best friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in the hope that the festival fairy would come along in the middle of the night and pack their rucksacks. After waking the following morning the hours seemed to just melted away and before long it was time to set sail for Reading Festival 2014!

At four-am I was up. Curling my freshly dyed hair would take time. Sleeping at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the night before was a god send and having the bathroom space and areas to get all three of us ready was bliss. As I tip-toed around the family home I had hung out in as a teenager I made sure I looked as festival ready as I could. Crowning my head with an over-the-top flower garland I joined my girls out in the cold dawn to pack the car and head out on the open road. Whizzing down the motorway and bumbling along the roads into the outskirts of London we followed the signs for the festival camps. As stewards showed us where to park and unload we braced ourselves for the trek of a lifetime to where we would eventually call home for the next five days. In doing so we joined the longest line that there ever was in living history but thanked ourselves we had made the effort to get up early to land ourselves a great spot. 

Pitching the tent towards the back of the White camp we noticed that it just so happened to be a prime area for boys to urinate and so we dubbed any lone male with his trousers a little bit slacked towards the waste as being on Willie Watch. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee got involved once or twice. Finally relaxing after a very, very long trip to the local Tesco to pick up beer and other food supplies such as Snickers and Chewee's, we took time to reflect on the important things in life. Like which one of us would we Fuck, Marry or Kill and of which one of my ex-boyfriends I would rather my best friend marries or sleeps with. As lad-like as the conversation was it would have never topped some of our neighbours, of which one of them was called Tuggy. We never found out why he was given this unfortunate nick-name but we all had our suspicions as to what may have caused it. 

As tired as we were we still managed to make it to the man arena area where we collected our wristbands and checked out some of the stalls and huts offering over-priced festival tat which I would probably given half a chance bought all of. Returning to our camp the Girls stopped off at a eatery for some food whilst I perched on a wooden bench. Yawning wide as I looked at my watch realising it was still mildly early a young women walked up to me and ordered me to stop yawning telling me it was a festival and to 'get on it'. Out of no-where a ginger gentleman also sat down next to her and we began talking about who we were most looking forward to seeing out of the acts to headline and where we were all from. A few moments later Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb walked passed and I agreed to meet them back at the tent after my conversation with my new friends. Accent confirming that they were from the South Coast I probed further into their location. After explaining that they were from a little village outside of Exeter I felt a twinge of sadness as my mind harped back to days of Mr. Cheese and plans to visit Exeter with him. Changing the subject I asked their names. The guy offered up his name first and I struggled to contain a smirk as he shared the same Christian name as my ex Mr. Workaholic and another guy I went on a date with once (The date in question was awful and was something to never bring up again. Ever.). As the night closed in we partied in the bar and I threw myself into the festival spirit ending up dancing with strangers and adding people on Facebook I will never see again. Turning in for the night I felt that my new ginger friend was asking me back to his tent in a very forward yet round about way. Knowing that he was younger than my brother I declined and headed to my canvass home, stumbling in and rousing everyone in doing so. 

The rest of the weekend seemed to speed right pasted us all in a blur of drinking games, cider and music. Going to the arena everyday I saw some amazing acts including Arctic Monkeys, Paramore, Sigma, AndyC, Don Broco, Enter Shikari, You Me At Six, Twin Atlantic, Tonight Alive, Duke Dumont, Blink 182, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Jake Bugg and so many brilliant others. And whilst Jake Bugg was emotional to watch and hear, given the connotations and memories of Mr. Cheese it brought me but all in all, such a cracker of a weekend and all spent with my best friends. Its funny they did try to monitor (As they always do) the content of my writing in the Blog but I told them that the memories we share are the best any human could wish for from friends. 

Admittedly there are things I wouldn't share with you guys, like stories of human defecation and tales of falling in country potholes but I wouldn't have my friends any other way. As a few artists rocked out on the huge stages that swamped the fields of Berkshire I gazed on at them with pride. I was proud to have two best friends that were so diverse in opinion, honesty, humour, sexual preference, personality, judgement and individuality that I don't think that even the Queen herself (Whom Miss Tweedle-Dee has innate fear of) could have chosen a better network of friendship as my two Girls. Over the pasted decade I have not listened to them on many occasions although I hope they know that throughout everything they are the best thing I have in my life and all that is worth sharing is better when it is shared with them. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Silly Head and A Silly Phone Call ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Evening Everybody, 

So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice. 

"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there. 

One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again. 

Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese! 

Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship! 

By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'! 

Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but 

Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment. 

I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx