Some things never change.

Good Evening, 

One week ago I sat here writing to you from my sofa, anxious in anticipation for my grandmothers funeral. I was dreading it and more than most for a multitude of reasons. Now I know that no one ever looks forward to funerals, but this one will be especially fraught with emotions, and, as with last time, the tension and anxiety will be riding high. I laugh to myself now as I write this to you, it seems that funerals, whilst are not the happiest of occasions, always seem to be dogged for me with huge anxieties and bouts of doubt and uncertainty about myself. And this time will be no different. 

As with Granddad's funeral just over two years ago now almost to the day, I recall waking up on the morning of the funeral. I could see the bright May day beaming in through the spare room window across the hallway. And just as before, I wanted to curl up in my duvet, hide away and pretend that today was not happening. Instead, I pulled myself from slumber, my Puppy for once being kinder to me this morning and not jumping on me as he normally would, affectionate little licks to gently encourage me to get up and along with the day. Isn't it funny how animals sense these things, especially so when they come and cuddle up next to you on the sofa as you write this?

As normal, or at least as normal could be I dropped Mr Warehouse at work and headed home for a strong coffee and mind-numbing telly. Soon enough though it was time to get ready. Dressing in a black long-sleeved soft jersey wrap dress, nude tights and black heels I was all set. Hair in a plaited nape bun and fascinator fixed in place I got in the car ready to go. The journey was quiet as I thought about the attendants, my mother and brother, both of whom I had not seen since the last family funeral when I first started dating Mr Warehouse. Its been five years.  

"I suppose," I thought, "on a positive note, the Coronavirus pandemic means she can't come within 2-metres of you". I smiled at the thought. Soon enough we were approaching my Hometown and as we turned into the neighbouring street of my old family home I saw the hurse pull in front of us. Mr Warehouse asked if that was Nanna, or if it could be someone else, but as the vehicle in front took a left, I was certain she was making one last visit to the church before heading home. As the car slowed coming into Nanna's house, Mr Warehouse rested his hand on my thigh and gave me a sweet and gentle squeeze. Stopping the car he motioned if I was OK. I would be, I just needed to get today over and done with, as we all did. 

I could see some familiar faces amongst the people who had come and seen her off. Neighbours, friends and family all there for one last goodbye. My eyes fell to my Nanny Pumpkin and Uncle Africa from Ireland who was now staying with my Nanny Pumpkin (don't ask, easier not to get into it). Immediately I made a beeline for them as I knew they were my safety net, there for me and my family. I spoke with Uncle Golf a little and his younger brother, my Uncle KON. I went to see how my Auntie DD was holding up and my cousin too. At only just a teenager, this was a lot to handle. I can't imagine the pain he must be going through, especially after seeing her pretty much once or twice a week since he was born. The shock of seeing a coffin in the flesh (excuse the pun, but Nanna would have appreciated it) for the first time can be overwhelming and a bit much, especially for someone so young. 

My fiance and I took him aside for a second to console him, showing him the beautiful flower arrangement I had made on behalf of the grandchildren, my brother included as he sheepishly stood in the background with my mother, too ashamed to raise his head above the parapet I expect. After speaking with Auntie DD several weeks ago, It had been suggested to do something similar to my Granddad's funeral. Obviously, I included my brother, texting him last week to let him know of the plans and if he would like to be included he was more than welcome. Of course, he never replied, and of course, I still put his name to it as he was and still is the grandson of the dearly departed, despite not showing an ounce of remorse for not showing himself in the final few months and years of her life. I only wish he could man up and just be apart of this rather than hiding in her shadow. 

As 1pm approached we all headed into our cars, out of the way of the biting cold that she [Nanna] had cast over us from Scotland. Pulling away from her home, my thoughts turned to the next part of today. At the graveside, I was going to say a few words as I had divulged in last weeks blog post. Since there was going to be no church service due to the Coronavirus outbreak (even after Boris' announcement yesterday) there was a need to pack the occasion out and make it feel more than just a box and hole situation. As expected, my poor cousin was in no fit state to say anything let alone put words together in order to form a sentence in front of everyone and so the suggestion of something lighter about our time as grandchildren with Nanna was definitely best left to her memorial ceremony and celebration hopefully in a few months time when all of this is over. 

Pulling into the Cemetary I could see my father's car which gave me great comfort to know he was here, mostly because of the "am I, aren't I" conversations we had a few times over the last few weeks. Regardless of if he came or didn't, there would be backlash either way. My father would have been ridiculed for showing his face and coming if he had turned up and equally would have been bad-mouthed had he not come to the funeral of a woman that was once your mother-in-law. My Dad, accompanied by his new wife, was there to support me and my Auntie and Uncle's as well as my brother. Standing in the background I was glad of his presence. 

Moments later, in the freezing cold with the sun shining, I read from the freshly printed pages my monologue as posted last week. It went down well. Very well in fact, my uncle passing comment about not being about to follow such a touching tribute which I thought was lovely, especially considering how much I pawed over it and fretted about its broadcast. The moments slid by as we watched her be lowered into her final resting place, next to Granda, and soon we all started to dissipate into the Cemetary. 

All was well and we bid goodbye to close family and family friends with promises of meeting again once this Lockdown had lifted Mr Warehouse and I headed for the car. Uncle Africa wanted to speak with my mother and brother, alone, and so had asked if I could take my Nanny Pumpkin home. This delayed my catch-up with Miss Tweedle-Dee, something I was going to need after all this, but I was happy to assist as I knew that some stern words would need to be had. Although just before we left, my father made a bold move by walking in their direction. Before I knew what was happening (and truth be told I still don't) I heard my mothers voice ring out across the small parking lot. 
"BACK OFF" She bellowed, screeching at my father and holding a firm hand up in protection. Of her? Of her son? Who knows. All I do know is that my father only wanted to speak with his son and offer both him and his ex-wife his condolences. 

Sadly it seems as all the years have rolled by, the anger and searing pain are still raw. My brother is still hurting and my mother is still her old self, melodramatic and over the top. I just wish that we could all be civil. Enough time has passed for us to all get over ourselves and just accept that in certain situations we need to put things like this aside. Obviously, my mother never got that memo and instead embarrassed not only herself, but also my brother, who seems to have grown just as bitter and hateful as she is. Some things never change ...  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Love Like Nothing Else

Hello, 

Sitting here and writing to you I know I am less than a week from my grandmothers funeral. I am dreading it. More than most and because of a multitude of reasons. To think that this time next week it will all be over and done with, all said and done, with only the memorial service to complete the mourning process. I know that no one ever looks forward to funerals, but this one will be especially fraught with emotions. 

I recall the feeling on the morning of my Grandfather's funeral just over two years ago now almost to the day, waking up on the morning of the funeral in the flat Mr Warehouse and I shared, way before mortgages and new puppies were a thing. With the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hedge outside, I just wanted to hide away and pretend that today was not happening at all, probably not helped by my rapidly deteriorating mental state at the time. I remembered with chills running along my arm hiding my head under the covers as Mr. Warehouse told me that this was a normal feeling and it would soon pass, something he had already been through several years earlier with his own Granddad whom he was very, very close with. 

And now, all of that will come again only as with last time, there will be tension and anxiety riding high. I laugh to myself now as I write this to you, it seems that funerals, whilst are not the happiest of occasions, always seem to be dogged for me with huge anxieties and bouts of doubt and uncertainty about myself. And this time will be no different. 

On a positive note, the COVID-19 Coronavirus pandemic following the strict social distancing measures introduced at the end of March, the daily death toll started to slow into April, before gradually starting to come down just before Easter. Today another 288 deaths were announced which marks the lowest daily figure since 29 March this year. Speaking at the government's daily news conference today the BBC reported that the deputy chief medical officer for England, said that it was now "very clear in the data that we are past the peak" which can only mean that we are somewhat of a step closer to all of this being over. 

That being said however is a good thing as more people than originally thought are able to attend Nanna's funeral meaning it can be a bit more normal than planned. Another positive that this has brought about is how much closer I feel to Auntie DD (my mother's sister) and Uncle Golf. With both of them planning everything and sorting out her house I felt the need to try and support them and be with them as much as I can be at the distance of 2 metres of course. Phone calls every couple of days and catch-ups over WhatsApp really help to feel connected in a way. It's nice. Especially when things were so different and awkward throughout my parent's divorce and the earlier years of me being kicked out. 

So much closer we have gotten, I had suggested doing something similar to my Granddad's funeral and donating or making a wreath from the grandchildren. Obviously, I included my brother, texting him last week to let him know of the plans and if he would like to be included he was more than welcome. Of course, he never replied, and of course, I will still put his name on it as he was and still is the grandson of the dearly departed. I only wish he could man up and just be apart of this. Along with this, my Auntie DD asked if I would like to say a few words at the graveside, moreso to pack it out and make it feel more than just a box and hole situation.  I suggested something similar to funny tales and stories about my time with Nanna from myself and my cousin, and my brother too, as an anecdotal tonic to the harshness of the setting. However, after much care and consideration, I did not think that my cousin ould be up for talking, especially when it is so raw and fresh. I am hoping however we can put something together for her memorial ceremony and celebrate Nanna's life, rather than mourn for it. 

But I still felt as though I wanted to say something. And so, with my wedding less than a handful of months away now, I turned to some of my fondest memories and stories about Nanna's very own love of her life, Granda. And therein lays my inspiration. It didn't take long, and in my mind, cannot be a more fitting tribute as a tale that will live on forever ... 

Love can be found in all types of strange places. Some find it at work in offices and warehouses, stealing kisses and cuddles in the canteen. Some find it in pubs and clubs under the bright lights and heart-pounding music. Some even find it online and in the future, who knows where my children or grandchildren will meet their true love. 

But sometimes you don’t find love, but moreso, it finds you. Sometimes it can be closer to home than you think. When Granda went to stay with a family friend and her family whilst he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England, never could he have imagined he would meet the love of his life.

After getting to know the family and the beautiful but feisty young women that was Nanna, work took Granda elsewhere, but before he had left he made certain that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks passed when Nanna's very own Granny fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, my Nanna started writing to Granda and soon enough they were writing every week to one another and over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger with every letter that the postie brought.  

Just over a year after meeting, fate brought work for Granda back to the Scottish borders and once more they reunited. But this time Granda had something incredibly special he wanted to ask. After a wonderful day together my Granda plucked up the courage and asked Nanna for her hand in marriage. But alas as the wonderful news and exciting update was marred by the differing religious backgrounds and beliefs of their families. Granda was Protestant and Nanna was Catholic.

On hearing the news, Nanna's parents were less than happy for the newly engaged couple and refused the relationship forcibly stopping it from going any further. Several months later after multiple letters to Granda whilst he was away working with no response Nanna went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bus from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, every little feeling came rushing back and lit a fire so bright it burned for decades. It was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring.

Telling Nanna’s parents was not easy and after moving away to be closer to her future husband she had upset her family greatly. So much so that by the time their wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up. Nanna was not walked down the aisle by her father and was not doted on by her mother in the hours before the ceremony. Nanna dismissed the traditional white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan. Every person present that day, standing outside the Church in Oxford was from Granda's side of the family and a handful of friends.

In the years that followed, the black and white wedding photos were a placement in the many homes where they created and grew their family, bickering and arguing all the way. But soon enough, there comes a time for us all and even as Nanna raced to the hospital to be by her husbands’ side in his final moments on earth, she knew the exact moment he was gone. “It was like I could hear his last breath” she used to tell me, reliving the tales and stories she was so fond of telling over and over again.

For me, one thing is for certain. Once you have found that one special person, there is very little that will pull you apart. No wedge that can be placed between you. No tie that can severed. Like the blossoming of Wisteria, you become not only enchanted and curious with each other but fascinated and infatuated, love drunk, giddy with excitement and adventure. And then, before you know it, your lives are so tightly intertwined you are but one beautiful soul with a bond so strong, not even death can keep you apart.

It will be sad not to have you both there on my wedding day in a few months’ time, watching from the sidelines as me and my husband take our first few steps into married life and all that it brings. But I know you will be there, somewhere in the faces as we take our vows and have our first dance. For that is what I hope for. A love like no other. Mickey and Minnie. Romeo and Juliet. My Nanna and Granda – A love story like no other and a tale to be told forevermore… 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Turning off the Christmas Lights

Heyy,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Cloud

Evening Everyone, 

And so as another weekend rolls around, so do the many reasons as to why are flat still looks the same as it did four weeks ago. The thing is when I landlord is in the process of upgrading and potentially remodelling some of the areas of our flat, I am hesitant to start any work of our own until he has fully finished what he would like to do so I can work out exactly what I need and when I need it so we can crack on with our own little DIY projects. 

I feel at the moment as though the flat and housing situation is a bit of a double edge sword. On the one hand I want to make our little home as special and nice as possible whilst we try and desperately save for a house of our own one day, all whilst still feeling the same as I did this time last year when I wrote the blog post about being a misfortuned statistic in "Generation X" whereby many of our parents and grandparents reaped the benefits of having plentiful and affordable housing, a lower cost of living and stable employment with good earning potential. With this in mind, I can fully understand why some adult children are still living at home when they are my age. However that being said I was never given that option. Living by myself since I was seventeen I have always strived for a perfect home that I would be able to host parties in, everything from my tiny little one bedroom single room I rented from an Indian woman back in college, right through to my large and spacious one bedroom ground floor flat with a patio. 

Albeit it is not perfect but it is currently where I call home. Now whilst I feel grateful for what I have, I also partly begrudge spending money on something that will realistically not necessarily improve my situation. I mean, why would I optionally spend money on a property that both is not mine and will not benefit me when I come to move. It's not as though we can take down the wallpaper or strip the paint when we leave and take it with us. I think I know that realistically if Mr. Warehouse and I do up the flat, it may not have to cost the Earth and in all sense of the matter will make me feel a lot better. 

Truth be told is that I have not been feeling myself of late. Gone are the cheery "Hellos" and sunshine smiles only to be replaced with dull colours and a loss of smell and taste. Instead my usually warm and bubbly personality has been replaced with a cloudy view and very little laughter. Honestly it scares me how much I have changed in the last week or so. A part of me wants to talk to everyone about what I'm feeling, shouting it from the rooftops or whispering until the early hours. And yet at the same time I feel as though I would be burdening someone with such a pessimistic outlook on life and want to hide it all away and pretend that everything is OK.

Why am I feeling this way? Truthfully - I don't know. Right now it seems as though there is a lot of things that I don't know. There are potentially a few things in my life at the moment that could be causing me to feel like this. Whilst I am struggling to accept that it was a big deal, my grandfather passing away has probably had more of an effect on me than I first thought. With the passing and the funeral being a good few weeks apart it was almost like living in a weird grey scale limbo-land whereby nothing really changed and all we seem to talk about was funerals, death and family feuds. 

This, coupled with the fact that less than a week later I was attending the wedding of my best friend who, within the next eight-weeks or so, will be leaving for America, and as dramatic as it sounds may never return to back home to the UK again. The worst thing being is that I would not feel guilty at all about leaving those behind and would have been on the first plane out of here, long gone before anyone even had a tear in their eye. And that makes it worse for I know that I should be happy and glad that she has such a wonderful opportunity to create such a fantastic life for her and her new husband out in the world of the hopeful. 

You see depression is a big word not just in size but also in how I feel. Depression makes even the smaller things in life appear so much more prominently in your mind and bigger than in reality they probably are. On it's own I could have probably dealt with my granddad's passing and the funeral. On it's own I could have probably dealt with the beautiful nuptials of my best friend and her emigrating to her new life. On it's own I probably wouldn't feel so awful about myself, my weight and how I look. On it's own I probably wouldn't feel so desperately trapped and hopeless buy our flat and the lack of resources to make ourselves a better solution. But the problem is that none of these come by themselves. Unlike the last times I have felt cloudy and sad I have always been able to put it down to just one thing. My Dad went to war, my parents divorced, I got kicked out, My boyfriend left me. But what happens when it is not just one box that is ticked but all of the above. 

Am I clinically depressed? I don't know and I suppose until I see a doctor or professional there is no way of medically telling. Do I feel depressed? Yes. All the fun out of normal things I used to find enjoyable or make me happy now it seem like a lot of effort and with very little joy coming from them seem pointless. I certainly know what depression feels like but the question is - Am I there yet? No, but the constant and unnerving feeling of not being wanted or loved by the people who should and just being a general annoyance to people is something I simply can't shake off right now. The thing is that I know it is all a lie that the Demons in my head are telling me, making me question and second guess myself knocking my confidence even further, pushing me further into a downward spiral. 

I know that this is just a phase and that the clouds will soon pass making way for my true self to reappear once more. I just need to immerse myself and really try to bring myself out of this darkness, surrounding myself with good friends laughter and happiness. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

This is not a goodbye but a mere see you soon ...

Afternoon one and all, 

Normally when I take half day I usually feel very stressed and under a huge amount of pressure to get everything finished and Thursday as lunchtime approached I did not feel like this. In a weird way I felt a odd sense of calm wash over me. I knew that I would be rushed off my feet in the few hours before I relaxed into the salon chair to have my hair done before meeting my family for dinner and reminiscing about some of the the times we had with Grandad and with each other. 

Unfortunately for me this would not be the case. Sweating in the sweltering heat of my Orange Vivienne that in ASDA car park, Mr. Warehouse and I called my Nanny Pumpkin to find out what time she was due to be at the restaurant this evening. After ringing through a few times she finally answered flustered and in a bit of a flap. On enquiring what was wrong I was told that after my Uncle and Auntie had landed from Ireland they had going to visit my grandfather in the funeral parlour at Nevilles. Following this harsh reality my Uncle hit the bottle. In all honesty I am still pretty impressed that he was able to do a whole bottle of brandy in the space of about fifteen-minutes. 

in a way it is quite easy for myself and the rest of the family to maybe forget just how how hard that kick from reality must have been. Both my Auntie and my Uncle live abroad and as a result there is an almost inability to connect with what is happening back home sometimes I think that some members of my family would be worth noting that whilst others have had time to process the news, others have not. Whilst I acknowledge that Granddad's death was certainly not out of the blue or something quick, the luxury almost of being away from constant conversation or updates about his progress or not at the case may be almost lends itself to the fact that they were sheltered almost from the reality until they landed on Thursday Afternoon. 

And so it was with a heavy heart that I gave up my mojito in a nice restaurant and instead opted for a healthy salad whilst everybody else in on Indian or Chinese takeaway. But I missed out on all the drama when I went to collect the food with my other uncle and Mr Warehouse. So the story goes that my father turned up and when he confronted my uncle in the kitchen of my Nanny Pumpkins house it all went to pot and my family started a slanging match. Now don't get me wrong, all families argue, but I just hoped that given the circumstances at the time that things would have been left and not acted upon or challenged at all in one way or another one for each and every one of us were in some sort of shock, upset or grief including hurting and anger. No matter which way you look at it that was not the moment to pick an argument for have a fight. After my father left and my other uncle, Mr Warehouse and I arrived back home with dinner everything was tense. Here's hoping that everything would be OK tomorrow for that was the last thing that we needed another point for argument. 

Waking up on the morning of the funeral with the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hedge outside I just wanted to hide away and pretend that today was not happening at all. Hiding my head under the covers, Mr. Warehouse told me that this was a normal feeling and it would soon pass. Getting ready and heading down to my grandparents home, it's strangely had an almost wedding day like feel. With everything organised and things in place there was nothing left to do but turn up and hopefully try and enjoy what we could offer day whilst we remembered a great man. Throughout the morning as I helped people get ready and dressed, fed and watered, I can tell that Mr Warehouse was watching to see if and when I would crack. Truth be told I was fine and I had grieved for my grandfather many years ago. In a morbid sort of way I just wanted to get today over and done with so we could all start to move on. 

Arriving outside the church it was getting hotter and hotter. As the sun shone down on us standing there in our black glory I looked over to see my uncle crying which made me feel quite uncomfortable, all in the knowledge that there was simply nothing I could do to make his pain go away or for the feeling to get any better. I looked over to Mr Warehouse and he gave me a sweet smile. Soon it was time to go in and with this I stepped forward after my Grandma and my youngest cousins at just twelve and eight. I walked into the church alone and with nobody by my side. This was not how it was supposed to be. My brother should have been here by my side, and yet after all the trying and attempts made to get him to reply to my messages or even acknowledge what had happened, I walked alone. In away as I saw everybody look in our direction I realised that they were not looking at me or even my Nanna, but at the military draped coffin. I felt the lump in my throat get larger as I watched The Pine coffin being carried along the aisle the brass cross emblazoned on the back of the coffin was all I could focus my attention on and hope that I did not trip in this god awful heels. 

Sitting down on the second row on the right hand side of the church, I familiarise myself with the pictures and images I had seen as a child of Jesus Christ and other holy sentiments. It certainly was a blast from the past as I remember the times from my childhood where things were a lot less stressful and there was a lot less drama. Things were simpler back then but I was also a child and this is what happens when you grow up. People die. After listening to my father's eulogy it made me feel so proud as he stood along his two brothers, telling Granddad's life story and explaining some of the myths and legends that surrounded the man himself. Listening to that piece about my grandfather and looking around at the people that the Sat listening to only made me appreciate him more for everything that he had achieved in life and even opened my eyes to a few things I did not know about him. 

As the service came to a close I stepped out from the church into the bright sparkling sunshine. Seeing some of my mother's side of the family come to pay their respects warmed my heart and made me feel as close to crying as I possibly came throughout the day. Everyone complimented me and my family on how beautiful and personal the service was. But it was not over yet so I had to say my bit too at the crematorium. Bundling back into my Viv, I raced across town in order to try and beat the traffic in order to get to the venue first. I wanted to make sure that I was not going to be late and that I had plenty of time to maybe rehearse or even look over my notes. I could not get this wrong. I had one job and this was it. With my grandfather yet again being carried into the crematorium for the very last time again I walked in alone after my grandmother and cousins. This is not the last few weeks have been leading up to. As I was 'introduced' and took the stand I knew that this was the moment everybody had been waiting for. What was she going to say and was it going to be appropriate?

Song Lyrics? Nah. A Poem? Nope. An extract from a book? No. I have wondered for weeks what would be a good way to start this off but somehow ripping off someone else’s writing, no matter how good it is just simply isn’t my style - Is it granddad?

What do I say? Truth be told, what does anyone say? Sorry just seems a bit bland. Your not sorry. Neither am I. I had some wonderful memories with my grandfather. I don't have anything to be apologetic for yet everything to be grateful, thankful and appreciative of.

   

We had some great memories though didn’t we. Like that time after your eye operation that you had to wear an eye patch. I told everyone at school that your fought off a bear or that you are secretly a pirate. I remember when, after a few weeks of being a one-eyed bandit, Me and Sean thought it would be a good idea to cut out pictures of eyes from the magazines and stick them on your patch. The real fun though came when we figured out that heavily made up ladies eyes were much funnier!

Or how about the time that time when we had a birthday party and I thought it would be really funny to throw marbles out the window with my friends to spook people. The frustrating thing is that it never worked as they would always bounce off your soft grey afro hair!

Do you recall that moment when we were on holiday? The towels we soaked from a day at the beach or the pool and we hung them on the back of the sun-loungers to dry off. But it was all too much for the white plastic frame for when you came along to take a seat the whole thing just gave way leaving you mangled in a heap of plastic and soggy towels.

There was that moment that we went out for dinner at a quiet French village. Dusk settling in and with the hilltop vineyards as our view it was perfect. That was until the young waitress came along with our drinks, tripped, and showered you with a mix of wine and fizzy pop. Oh lord your were so mad, but I think looking back on it the faces you pulled and some of the choice English phrases you told the poor lass only makes for a funnier memoir.

One of my favourite tales, and I am sure that this will become one of yours too when I tell it is the time you visited Uncle Dave and Auntie Bernie at their Irish country cottage. From all accounts Granddad was outside coming in and on a stone floor with crutches and the dogs at his feet it was difficult keeping his balance. I suppose in a way a big slobbery dog is the last thing you want when trying to negotiate your way to the sofa and yet there she was. But before my grandfather knew it the floor seemed to give way under his crutches after placing them on what we thought was doggy dribble. In a spectacular style and yelling to my Nanna all the way he fell over. For years Granddad you thought it was dog slobber you slipped on. I am sorry to tell you that it was not. It was a puddle of wee.  

Over the years as I got older and grew from a sweet child into an independent women we shared in a stories and anecdotes about travelling the world or my sometimes eclectic dating life. I always loved hearing tales of the good old days where my grandparents were young and walking on the moon was a myth thought up by dreamers. I myself hoped that someday I would have something as special as what my grandparents had. A love to surpass all others, born out of a pure organic romance that all started because my Nanny Pumpkin was paid to come on a double date with a friend! What I want to know was how much were you paid, because you had something with granddad that is priceless and eternally lasting. All I can pray for is that one day I can reach your level of marriage where playful bickering and comedic arguments only ended when one of you laughed it off. Or muttered under your breath, which ever the other one couldn’t hear.

But for me personally my fondest memory was the arduous task of him teaching me how to ride a bike. All the cuts and the grazes, all the tears and tantrums. I cant remember how many times I stomped my feet in a grump or walked off in a huff but my goodness there was many. I hated him for it but Granddad would always make sure I came back to my little pink bike with a basket up front, shiny new white tyres and frilly tassels billowing out of the handlebars. He taught me the surest life lesson that would see me through many a problem or difficulty, probably making me the person that I am today. When you fall off your bike you should always get back up and start riding again for the longer you leave it the worse it becomes when you do. And that is what we have to remember here today is that whilst it is hard and horrible to say goodbye, we need to pick ourselves up and get peddling again. For this is not a goodbye but a mere see you soon

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Loch Stress Monster!

Evening, 

So after feeling so helpless last week my emotions are still a little bit all over the place and I think that this will probably be the case until well after the funeral on Friday of this week. I still I still feel as though I'm not in control even though I don't necessarily need to be. I almost get the impression that there is something that I am forgetting to do organised or plan. Something has been missed off my to-do list and I'm terrified that it will be on the day and at that very moment that I need it that I choose to remember. 

With all of this and more on my mind I felt that it would be an ample time to use some of the vouchers we got for Christmas on a spa day for Mr Warehouse and I. Well needed I think definitely I was looking forward to having some time relaxing and not thinking or worrying about anything. Including access to the swimming pool, sauna and steam room facilities plus a short treatment as well as a luscious afternoon tea with champagne was definitely what I needed. Arriving on on the day at the hotels reception, Mr Warehouse and I were welcomed into the premises with a nice cup of tea and coffee. Relaxing into the soft and comfy chairs of the Holiday Inn Corby lounge area we talked for a few moments and I wondered the last time we had had an opportunity to do such a thing together just the two of us. Truth we told that we hadn't actually probably since we had been to Bath back in late November. I think what with Christmas, New Year's, saving for the house and the more recent events of the last few months I will be the first one to admit that we probably have not spent that much quality time together just the two of us. Maybe I need to make some time for that. Hmmm ... 

After chilling out on the lounges by the pool it was time for my treatment. Heading down to the spa and Treatment Rooms I was excited and glad to be massaged for the next 25 minutes. That was until I met the masseuse. Taking me into the treatment room everything was going swimmingly and I was describing exactly how I would like to feel after my massage and what areas I would like her to concentrate on. On leaving the room I took off my bikini top and lay down as instructed beneath the towel blanket. Coming back into the room the masseuse soon whipped off the towel only to reveal my bikini bottoms still on. 

"Oh well those will need to be removed as they will make my blanket and bed wet. I'll leave the room again!" the masseuse said with a attitude problem. Feeling on edge and certainly far from relaxed I did as she asked and resumed my position on the bed. On coming back into the room she yet again tugged down the towel only this time, revealing my bare bum.  Trying to think nothing else of it I tried to relax. This was especially difficult when I was told that I was not in the best position for right angle. At one point I obviously was not relaxed enough for her liking to which she grabbed my arm and flopped it back and forth in an effort to 'loosen it up'. I can only assume at that both my arms are pretty tense and knotted since the angry Scottish lady had to do this several times with each arm which only seemed to aggravate her even more. When it came to working up to my neck and shoulder area I wasn't even given the chance to be told what I needed to do or how to relax as best as possible as the masseuse just grabbed my head and pushed it into whatever position she needed. 

Harping back to the days of my 2015 Blog post 'No Pain No Gain' of Mr. Masseuse, well I think I found his wife! I sometimes wonder to myself am I ever able to have a moment where life doesn't throw me a curve-ball or something as hilarious as this in order to be worthy of blog material. On finishing the massage I didn't think too much else of it and left the room feeling in a way on edge and not at all as though I had just had a relaxing massage. I was polite as ever and thanked the masseuse before exiting the spa only to see Mr Warehouse sat waiting for his treatment. I briefly explain to him that more likely than not he would have the same lady as I had and if this was the case then he should just relax, relax, relax! To be honest I would have just Shrugged it off as her attitude and something that may be had pissed her off earlier in the day had maybe put her in a foul mood, but when Mr Warehouse met me by poolside ready to go down for our afternoon tea, he too had explained how she had attempted the floppy arm manoeuvre on him also. Unfortunately the apparent desired effect have not had any workings on Mr Warehouse and therefore had been abruptly huffed at that if he was unable to relax his arms then there would be no point in her trying to massage them. We tried not to let it spoil the rest of our day however we would be lying to say that it didn't put a damper on it. Afternoon tea however was lovely and as ever very filling. 

Sitting here now thinking about it and after talking to work colleagues today in the office about how my weekend went, I suppose in a way I do kind of feel a little bit let down and disappointed generally with the experience that Mr. Warehouse and I had. Especially since this was meant to be a relaxing Sunday afternoon before what was going to be a very busy, hectic and emotional week 4 not just me but also Mr Warehouse also as he tries to support me through a difficult time. The pressure to look, talk, act and be a certain way is still immense and the whole idea that things will just go as they are on the day is simply not sitting right with me, causing me to be highly anxious and constantly worrying about everything and anything that could go wrong. 

It's becoming a bit stressful and overwhelming so truth be told I will be happy when I have said my part at the crematorium and event can relax with a drink or two, once I drive home of course. I worry constantly and feel like I am on a permanent wobble. I have even worried that this might be the beginning of that god awful cloud feeling.Sometimes I feel like I have to put on such an act for everyone, pretending to be happy-go-lucky and enjoying and loving life, Its long. I feel like I am forever walking on eggshells and scared of not upsetting someone or being inconsiderate or not saying or doing the right thing that its leaving me felling that whatever I do is never going to be good enough. 

All I can hope is that what everybody is telling me is the truth and that going forward everything will be OK. I think maybe I just need to slow down, calm down and collect myself and my thoughts. Everything will be Okay. I'm sure of it. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Where's my Xanax!

Hiya!

Have do you ever feel as if you just want to put the brakes on? When you just want to tell everything or everyone to stop. Freeze. A moment in time. I do and truth be told I have probably felt this way for a few weeks now. Since coming back from Ireland I feel as if everything has been on fast forward mode. Work is busy, so is my schedule to try and get slimmer for summer and my social life is hectic. On top of all of this I also have several big life events to contend with. My Grandfather passing away and his hastily approaching funeral and my best friend since being a small child emigrating are just the tip of the iceberg. 

Miss Tweedle-Dumb has been there through it all and to be honest there isn't anything that I think our friendship has not been through or tested by. In all fairness I am almost certain that some of those testing's probably came from me directly but I would not change our friendship or life together that we have shared since we first met in the sandpit of our Lower School. Me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were the best of friends and when Miss Tweedle-Dee came along, every man and his dog were telling us all that it would never work out and "three's a crowd"! But through the decades we have always remained friends. Now of course there is sometimes a love/hate relationship as we all know what buttons to press and I think when asked individually, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I would be lying if we said that we didn't piss off each other at least mildly on the odd occasion. I think like most girls we are a little bit jealous or envious of each other, well, at least I know that I am, and on its own this could be a toxic combination. However when it is combined with a rock-solid strong friendship and a resilience that we share together, a little reminder to keep up with the Jones' is just whats required to keep our 'A' game. 

And maybe it is this that I am worried or scared of, that we have been friends for so long that I don't know what it is going to be like without all three of us together. Looking back on things, it was about two-decades (God I'm old) that we met, all the way back in the heady heights of late 90's scrunchies, A1 Posters and Jelly shoes! I suppose in a way it wasn't that long ago that I was having the same worries and fears that I was now about Miss Tweedle-Dumb moving to Basingstoke to be closer with her fiancee. There I was thinking that the whole world would Collide in on itself because my best friend moved a couple of hours down the road. And to think that whilst LA is nice and all, I would sooner her take a couple of hours drive down to the Anbil rather than boarding a plane for several hours. I just know I am going to miss her so much and that may be the fact she is emigrating and moving on with her new life in the sunshine state it just worries me that I wont be a part of it or her life anymore. 

Maybe a part of me feels that I am not in control despite not necessarily needing to have any control over anything. Take the funeral for example. With the funeral less than a fortnight away, I feel a heavy pressure to look a certain way, talk a certain way and act a certain way that it's all becoming a bit stressful. The fact that I am a fully fledged adult and know exactly how to act, what to wear and what to say is obviously beyond them, my Dad in particular. I know he means well and just does it as he maybe wants me to come across in the best way or to not mess up and embarrass either me or himself and the family, but sometimes it is just so overwhelming. I worry constantly every day about being judged. I am forever conscience of not upsetting someone or being inconsiderate or not saying or doing the right thing that its leaving me in an anxious mess. In the beginning it was only a fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, whatever I did was never going to be good enough whereas now it is a constant reminder. 

I don't know, is this what anxiety feels like?! Constantly in a state of worry or concern? Always overthinking things? Is this why I feel the need to be in control? I am terrified that something will go wrong and that it will all be my fault. I am worried that the funeral wont go to plan and that I wont know what to do or say on the day itself, I'll just be in a snotty, teary kitchen-floor-reset state or that big or small, something will happen that will spoil the day for everyone. I have been told that I expect too much (from myself) and that I need not be so hard on myself when things don't go to plan, but I do and I don't know why. All I can hope is that everything is alright on the night and that when it really comes down to the crunch that I stay calm and collected. Now, wheres my Xanax!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Olive Branch?

Evening, 

Following my visit last week to the wonderful island of Ireland after my grandfather's departure, it was certainly a visit to see family and recuperate that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. But back home in the struggling spring of Mainland UK and with most things organised for the funeral including piecing together an all black outfit that would be appropriate for a funeral whilst still maintaining at some class and decorum about me, there was very little left to do. 

And yet I had to still try and get a hold of my brother. When it first happened, my granddad's death that is, I hoped he has some sense in trying to get in contact with the family, including both my mother or fathers sides. But what with Mr Warehouse and I travelling to Ireland, contacting my brother had slipped my mind in all fairness but as I said last week, in a funny sort of way I had made my peace with my Granddad and his demise, all I wanted is for my brother to have the opportunity do the same and make an informed choice. Last week I supposed that only time will tell. I didn't have to wait long. 

Following my return from County Kilkenny, I called round all family members, hoping to get an update or to find out that maybe given the circumstances my brother had contacted anyone, even just to send a card or to call and give his condolences and sympathies. Nothing. At the very least I thought he might reach out after all these years to our grandmother who had lost not only the love of her life but also the father to their children who eventually grew into the family she now has. But no. 

After speaking with my mother's brother, my Uncle Golf, I was informed that he to had not had any communication from my brother at all since the beginning of the month. I was disappointed to say the least. This was certainly not how our parents raised us and far from what I would expect my brother to act as an bow fully grown man. Talking more my Uncle Golf decided that my brother and I needed to talk and would be most unfortunate circumstances needed to talk and at the very least discuss the details for the funeral and what we both might like to say about our memory of our time with him. And so with this information and coupled with my brothers mobile number, on a evening after a heavy gym session I decided to give him a call. 

Was I nervous? Yes! Was I Anxious? Definitely!  Was I scared? No, he was my little bro! OK well I was a little bit but I think that all of those feelings are fairly normal when you have not spoken to someone who is meant to be one of the closest people in your life in the last four years. I suppose it is kind of morbid in a way that the last time we spoke it was at another funeral. honestly speaking I hope that it was not going to be add another but here I was. In my kitchen. In my flat. Dialling his number Mr. Warehouse stood by me stirring the pot of risotto watching it boil and bubble. It began to ring. With the dialling tone continuing I expected a voicemail to hit soon. 'Maybe he was just like his big sister putting his phone on charge and ignoring it for the whole evening?' I thought. But I barely had a moment to think about that before a deep manly voice answered the phone in a jovial tone. 

"Hiya" The young man said. Shocked, I had not expected my brother to be so receiving and happy about me calling. But oh how wrong I was! On hearing my voice my baby brother proceeded to tell me to "Fuck Off"! Stunned by his outrageous behaviour and inability to control himself and show a bit of respect, I had only a few seconds before he hung up the phone. Attempting quickly to return his call, it went almost straight to voicemail. Leaving him probably quite a lengthy and rambling on voicemail I followed up my communication, although brief with my brother, on a text message. 

Hi Sean it's me, your big sister. 

I know that you don't want to speak to me so I thought I would message you instead. Obviously I'm hoping that you know this already but if not our Granddad passed away recently. On behalf of myself, the family which you are apart of even after all these years but most importantly Granddad himself we would really like to see you. 

I understand if you do not want to come and see myself, dad or anyone else in the family for reasons I can only assume, but at the very least I think you should go and say goodbye to our Granddad one last time. I have enclosed the details below that are on all of the families social media pages as I am not sure if you have seen them. If you have not then you now have all the right information in order to make an knowledgeable decision about what you would like to do for yourself and I hope you do the right thing as a lot has changed in all these years. 

I have spoken to other family members and they have all said that if you would like they are more than welcome to offer you a lift to and from the funeral, crematorium and wake and this is including myself. 

If you end up deciding that you would not like to come to the funeral for whatever reason, personal or otherwise, then at the very least call the funeral directors and they will be able to organise a time for a personal viewing of the body so it is just you and Granddad where no one else will be allowed in. 

It's up to you at the end of the day but I would like to hope that you would still go and pay your respects to our grandfather who loved us unconditionally and irrespective of our parents and what they did or did not do. 

When everything is said and done, I just wanted to make sure that you had a chance to make an informed decision for yourself as an adult. I love you and if there is anything else I can do or that you would like to discuss them please call me. My number hasn't changed. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Getting Back on The Bike

Good Evening, 

With myself and a another work colleague wrestling with telephones and battling the emails I to thought myself was it really all worth it. Don't get me wrong I loved the feeling of being under pressure and a good kind of stress. I knew that within a day or two life would be back to normal and the equilibrium would be restored back in the service department of a busy fire and security company. Getting up from my desk, probably the first time in the whole morning, I went in search to get a cup of coffee. Almost on cue my phone rang. It was my Nanny Pumpkin. 

"Hello dear. I just wanted to let you know but your Granddad has gone back into hospital again" she said hastily knowing that she had quite a few other people to call. After more than five years of constant trips to doctors, pharmacies and hospitals myself and the rest of the family were well used to having at these sorts of phone calls just find out that there was no need to worry or stress as he bounced back once more. But there was something different about this time. Something more serious. Something wrong. But with customers queueing on the phones and emails coming out of my ears I have no choice but to return to my desk and see out another day in the office. 

Throughout the afternoon I had more phone calls from Auntie's, Uncle's and even my Dad updating me on his progress or lack of thereof. After work I called around, trying to find out if anyone in the family had been able to contact my brother. It has probably been a good three maybe even four years since we last spoke, and even then it was at a funeral. God knows I didn't want it to be at another one but I needed my brother to know the details for him to make an informed choice like I had about whether he wanted to see my granddad one last time. But on speaking to my mother's sister she assured me that whilst she had fed the message back about just how poorly our grandfather was including details about where abouts he was being looked after in hospital to my brother, it would have appeared my mother was not all that serious about saying goodbye and in turn was preventing my brother from also going, even larking about 'how sick he really was'. 

Later on I discussed my decision about not going to see my grandfather in his final moments with with Mr Warehouse and I seriously worried that I have not made the right decision in going. I can only assume that after the upbringing I have had within the military family background, death is but inevitable along with taxes that is. I pondered on whether my grandfather would want me there but I settled my mind telling myself that he would be so high on drugs he would probably not even know I was there. 'How would I know if I have made that right decision to not see him?' I thought but in reality I knew the answer already and that it would only be clear if and when he was gone. My grandfather and I were never really that close. We chatted whenever I went round to see my Nanny Pumpkin and even shared in a few stories and anecdotes about travelling or dating. He was the person that taught me how to ride a bike all those many moons ago and was the person that taught me a very sure life lesson that would probably make me the person that I am today and that is when you fall off your bike you should always get back up and start riding again for the longer you leave it the worse it becomes when you do. 

Exhausted from a hard few days at work Mr Warehouse and I went to bed early where I quickly fell into a deep sleep. I was only in slumber for a few hours before I was awake once more. On waking I noted about it was still dark and was far from morning. I heard the faint tone of my mobile ringing and trying not to wake the rest of my household I went to go and answer it hoping that it would not wake Mr. Warehouse for he does get ever so grumpy without his beauty sleep. Looking at the time I could see that it was within the hour of 2am. 'Who would be calling at this hour?!' I pondered as I answered the call, expecting it to be a a drunk dial. Answering I heard my dad's voice and he sounded serious. 

"Hi. I am sorry to wake you but I thought you might need to know that your granddad has passed away tonight." My father said. And it was at this point that everything I thought about life and death came into perspective, as crystal clear as a diamond. I don't know for sure exactly what I said although I do remember asking him if he was OK despite very reason we were speaking at such a late hour. A brief conversation as it always ever was with my father he ended the call promising to speak in the morning. I was now shaking. I was freezing cold. Now I was hot. Wait, I'm going to be sick. Nope I need to poop. What the fuck is this. Now I'm cold again but sweating. My hands were clammy as I figure out my way to the bathroom for fear of something unnatural happening to me. Is this shock? Is this fear? 

Sitting on the toilet with my head hovering over the bathtub for at least 30 minutes I became more and more chilly. Head spinning I took a bowl from the kitchen and returned to the safety and warmth of my bed shared with my beloved Mr Warehouse, fast asleep, just as I had left him. But climbing back in bed did not solve my problems. I was pleasantly warm now but the clammy sweaty cold feeling did not leave me. All I could think about was my family and what I may say at the funeral. Would I be asked to say anything? How would we all get to and from the church, service and wake? What would I wear? What would Mr. Warehouse wear? What will the family say about my decision not to see him before he passed? Would the family argue over silly things? All these things that whizzed around my head until I fell back asleep. When I next open my eyes it was morning. My alarm is ringing letting me know that it was time to get up, get ready and get on with the day. As I pulled on some black leggings and a comfy jumper, a staple it seems for my work attire at the moment, Mr. Warehouse awoke, groggy from the Sandman's reign. I told him the news which suddenly seemed to make him perk up and listen. 

"Why are you going in?" Mr. Warehouse asked me, clearly concerned with how I was feeling and possibly worried as was I on how I would handle my workday today, all in the knowledge of what yesterday and the day before brought me. But I had very little choice. If I chose not to go in and stay at home I would just vegetate and watch crap TV which was not really an option when you know that someone else is going to have to pick up the pieces and run an entire five-man service desk team by themselves that was already snowed under and bombarded with constant emails, phone calls and to do lists. And so I went in. Do I regret not going in? Yes probably. Many people and mainly work colleagues told me that I should have probably not gone in that day. But the fact of the matter is that I did and let's be fair in realistic terms what choice did I honestly have. If I had not turned up and for whatever reason my other colleague has not come in also there would be absolutely no one to answer any of the customer complaints, queries or questions. After the week that I have had I could have probably done with not going in. A few close work colleagues and friends of mine had said that family comes first regardless of the job and what I was doing it should have all taken a back burner in order for me to be with my family at what was a difficult time. 

But was it though? Whilst yes what happened in the early hours of Tuesday morning was very sad and upsetting for everyone involved, myself included, unfortunately this was something that we were expecting as a family for some time now. This was far from being out of the blue and a shock to our system. Everyone was apologising and saying sorry. Whilst I did honestly appreciate their condolences, I did consider what I did in the past given the same or similar situation. I too had apologised and said sorry. But I suppose the ironic thing is that I was not sorry at all. I could not take away the pain and sadness as much as they could not take away mine. Alas we are British at the end of the day and it just so happens that we are not that great at talking and dealing with death. I mean you can hardly say "Awwh That Sucks!" when your best friend tells you her Nan died. 

In between my hectic work schedule, barrage of emails and heavy flow of customer calls I was contacted by various members of my friends and family asking me how I was. The truth was that I felt fine. Admittedly. my world was certainly not the same as it was when I went to bed last night and in a small way felt a little emptier than before. The last few days have been difficult and odd to say the least. Work has been exceptionally busy and with a hectic weekend I have barely had a moment to think. Work colleagues, friends and even Mr. Warehouse are telling me that I am taking everything in my stride and dealing with it very well. But I'm just getting on with it. Besides, gotta get back up and on the bike sooner or later?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx