Heyy,
This was the last thing I needed before my holiday with the girls?! Issues with my phone. After completing a system/software update on my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note4, upgrading the operating system from Android Lollipop to Android Marshmallow (*Geeky snort* for being so nerdy) it decided to knock out all my contacts leaving me unable to access my address book, call log, or even my key pad to call 999 for emergencies. As scary and frustrating as this is I also lost all my contact names so if I was able to make any texts, which was difficult as the system would just crash after a few seconds of being in my messages, I couldn't know for sure who I was texting as my names-to-numbers had been lost. Frustratingly after several calls to Samsung, over nine-hours backing up all my data, a factory reset and an unsuccessful restore of data my phone is still running at the same speed as a Windows PC with Packard Bell 1994 installed. So god help the poor person that has to answer my next call to Samsung when I touch down in England because for the love of god I will rip them a new arsehole.
Anyhoo! I am on holibobs in the serenity that is the Canaries. Lanzarote to be precise. Has it been hotty in Lanzarote? Sort of. After touching down on the island known famously for its volcanic rock and black sand beaches, we were finally allowed off the plane by our snotty Liverpudlian air hostess and through our very grumpy passport control. To be brutally honest, apart from him sitting on a chair I genuinely thought to myself as he slapped my passport back to me on the desk that he resembled something of a seven dwarf from the fairytale. But myself and my Tweedles were far from Disney Princesses, and after a manic half-day at work, stretching myself between trying to sort my phone out and actually doing some work of my own I was more than pooped. An uneventful coach journey to the resort and cheeky cigarette on the balcony, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were ready for bed.
Waking up on the first morn of our week long holiday together Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were very excited to get out and about and explore all the sites and sounds that the darkness had hidden from us the night before. Our hotel, a white-washed building typical of Spanish architecture is called Oceano and whilst is not a five-star resort, certainly is one of the nicest "Budget-Budget" holiday resorts we have stayed in, even if you do have to pay for everything from the Wi-fi to the Kettle. The room is large and allows us all to have a bed as opposed to one of us always having to kip on the couch. The large balcony, overlooking the pool and bar areas it is the perfect spot that allows all three of us to sunbath topless on days when there is no point wasting money on beach sun-loungers for twenty-minutes worth of sun. Heading to the beach we singled out many a restaurant and were slightly bemused by why there are so many Chinese establishments on such a small strip. Nevertheless we were all soon down to our carefully selected swim-wear, basking in the sunshine and soaking up all the tanning time we could. But, as always, we went too far. Myself and Miss Tweedle-Dee are currently still regretting having a little afternoon snooze on said beach whilst the sun blazed our skin, turning me especially into what can only be described as a Christmas Candy Cane when naked. Mr. Warehouse back home finds this side-splittingly hilarious. Aftersun at the ready we have slowly began to relieve the sting although the redness I fear will last long after we leave the island. I wanted a Beyonce Bronzed Glow about me when I returned to my desk, not a Coke Can Original Hue!
Saturday was overcast and feeling like the holiday sun might be gone forever we took to trawling the shops for anything exciting to spend our hard earned and poorly exchanged Euro's on. It is definitely all tat that we don't need but for some odd reason five fridge magnets with penis' and bottle openers on for a Euro each seems very good value for money, even if it will get some strange gasps from Nanny Pumpkin when she comes round. I have however seen some exceptional examples of faux handbags. The 'designer inspired' handbags will certainly be going in my luggage at the end of the trip and suffice to say that with my haggling techniques I may have luck in bagging more than one, if you will excuse the pun.
Heading to the market Yesterday was a highlight as it always is, however yet more tat graced the beautiful cobbled streets of ancient market town of Teguise. Enough faux Michael Kors and Mulberry to drown in and even more magnets with phallus shapes adorning them. Cotton anklets, friendship bracelets and wooden foldout fruit bowls were all sold to us as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I walked through the streets. Coming to the end of our tether we agreed on a coffee and a bite to eat in order to get some worth from the trip. A few hours or so wasted we headed back to the bus and headed home, none of us buying anything apart from a magnet and a thimble as souvenirs.
Although the day was bleak, we still decided on the evening being a right old British knees-up, starting with what should have been a banging Chinese. although, as with many of the restaurants out here, you are simply not allowed to browse the menu outside, the owners and staff invite you in to look at the food, pressurise you if you would like a table, add you on Facebook, Invite you to their second-cousins wedding next year and convince you to be the birthing partner for Great Aunt Isabella. OK maybe taking it too far, but nevertheless I was thrust into the seat of a questionable all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet before I could even say Hello Kitty. After what was an OK meal, we all paid. However as I was the only one (I always am) to put in the incorrect money for the meal, I waited patiently for my change. I was to be waiting a long time for I think they mistook it as a gracious tip and kept it. Sipping on my weird-tasting apperifer, from a shot-glass that contained a naked, 1970's-styled porn star with a large cock at the bottom I thought to myself that if the local Chinese thinks I am tipping them next time they bring me a delivery then they will be sorely mistaken. Afterwards we went to see a drag act which was funny if a little scary when he/she/it/they look your way!
Suffice to say that today has been better as I have spent most of the day lounging on the sunbed at the beach, taking trips to the ocean and rocks for a dip and on the odd occasion, with Miss Tweedle-Dumbs support of course, venturing out into the deepness of the Mediterranean ocean, away from the prying eyes of men in snorkels and children in goggles, to strip off and into the basic bathing suit that mother nature blessed us with, and all in the light of day. Honestly, nothing makes you feel more free or at one with the world than pulling off your bikini bottoms and unsnapping your bikini top. I found something out today as well that I have always wondered but never known how to achieve in the suburban environment of my homelands. Do Boobs float? Well I can tell you all today folks that yes, yes they do. And boy does skinny dipping give you the breast-lift you have always dreamt of. Oh yes. I would highly recommend anyone, heck everyone, skinny dipping and am glad that I have had the opportunity to brave the taboo.
So right now the Tweedles are showering and making themselves beautiful for dinner tonight. They needn't have to though because on this holiday it has shown me just how much I love them and our friendship. After last weeks debacle with my father and how low I have been after accepting him as the selfish and arrogant arse he is, I am glad to have chosen-sisters who will always have my back, especially when the Chinese man decides not to give you back your change.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Handbag. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Handbag. Show all posts
Monday, 4 July 2016
Monday, 1 December 2014
Christmas Is Coming!
Evening One and All,
And so as today is the first of December, most of you I am assuming will be opening up your Spiderman or Peppa Pig chocolate advent calenders with the wonder of what will be finally waiting for you when you have no more doors to open. Looking at my flat adorned with bunting and yule-tide decorations I am pleased with how perfect it all looks. Even my tree looks like its from posh department store (Photos can be found here) and topping it an angel no you can't buy from John Lewis. I think that I have near enough as to perfection here as I one can get to at aged twenty-three. And this weekend has been just as filled with merriment.
Finishing work on Friday Mr. Warehouse and his older brother, another work colleague of mine, picked me up and we headed over to Elstow, Bedfordshire for a poker night with the other lads from work. Suffice to say that this would be one of hopefully many joint engagements myself and the newly acquired Boyfriend would be attending. You see I think that is one of the things I love and somewhat miss most about being in a relationship. The joining together of two diaries makes for much more fun and as a complete self-confessed control freak myself I love being both the centre of attention and one of the first people to be invited somewhere. Pulling into a huge, newly built housing estate on an aptly named road after yours truly I arrived at a very expensive looking five-bed home I had been Google-mapping only hours before. Stepping into the home I longed for myself I gazed around at the bright lights, rooms full of colour and the long statement staircase that ruled the entrance hall. Gradually overcoming my awe I congratulated the home-owner on their taste and as food was ordered and we sat down to eat I was I think probably the first, and possibly the only person ever to ask for a knife when eating a kebab. It was still in it's polythene box for crying out loud. If there was ever an award for being commonly classy I think I would win it hands down!
Clearing down after dinner and helping out with the laying down of chips we proceeded into a very interesting and laddish game of Poker. A long game but one with intense stares and lying eyes. I thought that I might be fairly alright at Poker given the fact that I can lie easily and I knew most of the people I was playing with well since I worked with them most days. I was surprised to say that Mr. Warehouse stunned a few people with his ability to play his cards close to his chest and on a few occasions won a few rounds himself. But alas his luck was only as good as a three-leaved-clover, suffice to say that it all ended when Mr. Warehouse went all in and hedged all his bets in the hope of a straight flush. As first one out I felt determined not to be second to last and came a somewhat respectable third when I came to the conclusion enough was enough and that I wasn't going to win as easily as I hoped. With my other half twittering on in my ear hole I decided to take his advise and hedge all my bets in at once. falling flat when his brother wiped the floor with me and my silly ace and spades.
Upon finishing the game and before heading home we had a relaxing wind-down in the second lounge I might add, whereby the cat eating McDonald's fries was the last topic of conversation. I had a few drinks whilst playing Poker and Spoons so when it came to the downtime I certainly was not all there. With Alcohol flowing through my veins I tipsily made an error with the the home-owner and her pal and thought they might have referred to themselves as Herill and Cheryl. As a result the room was filled with pant-wetting laughter and snigger's at my mishearing but as I went to correct myself I realised I had been accepted somewhat into a new family and one I felt very, very at home with. Deepening conversation though, it seemed that whilst the ice was broken the water was too hot to dive into fully just yet. Questions that seem normal to most people but rather strange to me began to arise once again. They asked about my mother and why I never speak of her. They asked of my own family and of my background. Nevertheless though I was more than happy to tell all and whilst it would never be as in-depth as it should really be I spared the gory details of mine and my mother's background, not wanting to dampen the evenings mood. We all ended the evening on a high and after a few anecdotes to lighten the mood it was time to call it a night. And with that Mr.Warehouse and I left but not before Herill and Cheryl asked me to join them the next time they went out for dinner. Whilst I am sure this was just a throw-away comment it really made me feel happy and appreciated by not only a man, but his friends and family too. Sinking into Bed on Saturday and after a cheeky game of spoons ourselves, Mr. Warehouse and I dozed off without a care in the world. Even as I recall my moments with him I can smell the heady concoction of hand-cream and aftershave filling up my lungs.
"Finally!" I thought, as the car pulled up to the huge bright yellow supermarket in a town that looked familiar. It was Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee, here to pick me up so we can hit up the sights and sound of Bicester Shopping Village in all its Xmas glory. Fixing my seat-belt I could tell the atmosphere was frosty but I knew that would be the case since it had taken me nearly two-hours to travel twenty-five from Bedford arriving as usual - Late. In the attempt to thaw out the atmosphere we hit the Christmas tunes big bringing out all the classics that were just as big when our parents were the same age. Harmonising together in the little blue Renault we felt as if we were in Destiny's Child. Whizzing through the lanes of Oxfordshire we arrived at our destination in good time all things considered and after a free park and ride on an old school double decker bus we were there. A quick toilet break followed by a much needed Starbucks and safe to say that the Eggnog Latte is still a winner in my books.
Eyes widening at the sights and smells of such a place as we walked and talked about all things festive. Staring through glass at beautiful things and watching as the queues lengthened for the biggest designer brands. Following a lazy lunch and a cigarette break we chose to start browsing. Myself and my Tweedles knew than none of us would buy anything but it didn't stop me falling in love. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee tried on funny hats and giggled about the silly styles of clothes I pawed through rails upon rails of catwalk worthy gowns encrusted with sparkles and hand-crafted lace. I was in heaven, until I saw the sizes. And the prices. In Temperley of London I held in my deft fingers the closest thing to my ideal wedding dress I think I have ever found, seen or could even have imagined. Calling over the girls after a good ten minutes of jaw dropping admiration staring I couldn't believe how stunning it was.
Paper-thin silky straps held up a smooth, white bodice carefully lined with rows of diamonds and crystals glistening under the stores lights. An asymmetric hemline billowed with silky, cloud-like chiffon which shined. I was in love. My Temperley of London Bridal Gown. But at over £1,500.00 I unfortunately would not be calling it mine permanently and as the girls grew restless of my daydreaming we headed to Prada for some sneakers. Mourning my future bridal attire I found solace in Valentino. There it was. Hung on a railing taller than me I stared up at yet another china-white piece of artwork from the fashion world. This time my fingertips ran over slowly the soft, fluffy, angelic fur you have ever had the pleasure of touching. As I yet again entranced myself to the A/W'14 collection of Mr. Valentino Garavani's I couldn't help but notice my friends were not as enthralled by the fur coats. As I begged the gods to give me the money to buy a coat like this one, splashed with flecks of ebony black pellets across an otherwise whitewash of bleached Mink fur I realised that no amount of money would ever make it acceptable to buy. Not for me anyway. Searching for the price tag and hoping my friends might hang around long enough for me to try it on I nearly died when I saw the numerous digits. £12,000.00. Not only was that alot of money but as I left the shop and consequently discussed my sorrowful goodbye to my Mink fur winter jacket with the others I discovered that if I indeed did have the money I could afford to buy such an item I would also be able to pay for not one, not two, not three but four trips to Las Vegas with my girls. Or maybe a wedding itself including the Temperley frock. Or even as a deposit on a nice little starter home with my Husband-to-be. Or I could have had the coat!
As the night drew in Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I all headed for the car hands empty and my heart ready to burst. An exhausting day down I headed home ready to hit my head onto that cold pillow of mine fresh for the shops of Bedford again on Sunday. But as manic as the shops were on the last day of the Black Friday Weekend I was able to do two good deeds in the form of buying some specialist chocolate advent calenders for a lady at work whose children seem to have allergies to everything and anything as well as return a lost handbag to a little old lady otherwise known as Mrs. Burridge of Bedford. So all's well that ends well and after an eventful weekend I am not stopping as the run-up to the big day begins I have little or no time to spare between working, working and socialising. Pheww! I don't know how I do it sometimes ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
And so as today is the first of December, most of you I am assuming will be opening up your Spiderman or Peppa Pig chocolate advent calenders with the wonder of what will be finally waiting for you when you have no more doors to open. Looking at my flat adorned with bunting and yule-tide decorations I am pleased with how perfect it all looks. Even my tree looks like its from posh department store (Photos can be found here) and topping it an angel no you can't buy from John Lewis. I think that I have near enough as to perfection here as I one can get to at aged twenty-three. And this weekend has been just as filled with merriment.
Finishing work on Friday Mr. Warehouse and his older brother, another work colleague of mine, picked me up and we headed over to Elstow, Bedfordshire for a poker night with the other lads from work. Suffice to say that this would be one of hopefully many joint engagements myself and the newly acquired Boyfriend would be attending. You see I think that is one of the things I love and somewhat miss most about being in a relationship. The joining together of two diaries makes for much more fun and as a complete self-confessed control freak myself I love being both the centre of attention and one of the first people to be invited somewhere. Pulling into a huge, newly built housing estate on an aptly named road after yours truly I arrived at a very expensive looking five-bed home I had been Google-mapping only hours before. Stepping into the home I longed for myself I gazed around at the bright lights, rooms full of colour and the long statement staircase that ruled the entrance hall. Gradually overcoming my awe I congratulated the home-owner on their taste and as food was ordered and we sat down to eat I was I think probably the first, and possibly the only person ever to ask for a knife when eating a kebab. It was still in it's polythene box for crying out loud. If there was ever an award for being commonly classy I think I would win it hands down!
Clearing down after dinner and helping out with the laying down of chips we proceeded into a very interesting and laddish game of Poker. A long game but one with intense stares and lying eyes. I thought that I might be fairly alright at Poker given the fact that I can lie easily and I knew most of the people I was playing with well since I worked with them most days. I was surprised to say that Mr. Warehouse stunned a few people with his ability to play his cards close to his chest and on a few occasions won a few rounds himself. But alas his luck was only as good as a three-leaved-clover, suffice to say that it all ended when Mr. Warehouse went all in and hedged all his bets in the hope of a straight flush. As first one out I felt determined not to be second to last and came a somewhat respectable third when I came to the conclusion enough was enough and that I wasn't going to win as easily as I hoped. With my other half twittering on in my ear hole I decided to take his advise and hedge all my bets in at once. falling flat when his brother wiped the floor with me and my silly ace and spades.
Upon finishing the game and before heading home we had a relaxing wind-down in the second lounge I might add, whereby the cat eating McDonald's fries was the last topic of conversation. I had a few drinks whilst playing Poker and Spoons so when it came to the downtime I certainly was not all there. With Alcohol flowing through my veins I tipsily made an error with the the home-owner and her pal and thought they might have referred to themselves as Herill and Cheryl. As a result the room was filled with pant-wetting laughter and snigger's at my mishearing but as I went to correct myself I realised I had been accepted somewhat into a new family and one I felt very, very at home with. Deepening conversation though, it seemed that whilst the ice was broken the water was too hot to dive into fully just yet. Questions that seem normal to most people but rather strange to me began to arise once again. They asked about my mother and why I never speak of her. They asked of my own family and of my background. Nevertheless though I was more than happy to tell all and whilst it would never be as in-depth as it should really be I spared the gory details of mine and my mother's background, not wanting to dampen the evenings mood. We all ended the evening on a high and after a few anecdotes to lighten the mood it was time to call it a night. And with that Mr.Warehouse and I left but not before Herill and Cheryl asked me to join them the next time they went out for dinner. Whilst I am sure this was just a throw-away comment it really made me feel happy and appreciated by not only a man, but his friends and family too. Sinking into Bed on Saturday and after a cheeky game of spoons ourselves, Mr. Warehouse and I dozed off without a care in the world. Even as I recall my moments with him I can smell the heady concoction of hand-cream and aftershave filling up my lungs.
"Finally!" I thought, as the car pulled up to the huge bright yellow supermarket in a town that looked familiar. It was Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee, here to pick me up so we can hit up the sights and sound of Bicester Shopping Village in all its Xmas glory. Fixing my seat-belt I could tell the atmosphere was frosty but I knew that would be the case since it had taken me nearly two-hours to travel twenty-five from Bedford arriving as usual - Late. In the attempt to thaw out the atmosphere we hit the Christmas tunes big bringing out all the classics that were just as big when our parents were the same age. Harmonising together in the little blue Renault we felt as if we were in Destiny's Child. Whizzing through the lanes of Oxfordshire we arrived at our destination in good time all things considered and after a free park and ride on an old school double decker bus we were there. A quick toilet break followed by a much needed Starbucks and safe to say that the Eggnog Latte is still a winner in my books.
Eyes widening at the sights and smells of such a place as we walked and talked about all things festive. Staring through glass at beautiful things and watching as the queues lengthened for the biggest designer brands. Following a lazy lunch and a cigarette break we chose to start browsing. Myself and my Tweedles knew than none of us would buy anything but it didn't stop me falling in love. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee tried on funny hats and giggled about the silly styles of clothes I pawed through rails upon rails of catwalk worthy gowns encrusted with sparkles and hand-crafted lace. I was in heaven, until I saw the sizes. And the prices. In Temperley of London I held in my deft fingers the closest thing to my ideal wedding dress I think I have ever found, seen or could even have imagined. Calling over the girls after a good ten minutes of jaw dropping admiration staring I couldn't believe how stunning it was.
Paper-thin silky straps held up a smooth, white bodice carefully lined with rows of diamonds and crystals glistening under the stores lights. An asymmetric hemline billowed with silky, cloud-like chiffon which shined. I was in love. My Temperley of London Bridal Gown. But at over £1,500.00 I unfortunately would not be calling it mine permanently and as the girls grew restless of my daydreaming we headed to Prada for some sneakers. Mourning my future bridal attire I found solace in Valentino. There it was. Hung on a railing taller than me I stared up at yet another china-white piece of artwork from the fashion world. This time my fingertips ran over slowly the soft, fluffy, angelic fur you have ever had the pleasure of touching. As I yet again entranced myself to the A/W'14 collection of Mr. Valentino Garavani's I couldn't help but notice my friends were not as enthralled by the fur coats. As I begged the gods to give me the money to buy a coat like this one, splashed with flecks of ebony black pellets across an otherwise whitewash of bleached Mink fur I realised that no amount of money would ever make it acceptable to buy. Not for me anyway. Searching for the price tag and hoping my friends might hang around long enough for me to try it on I nearly died when I saw the numerous digits. £12,000.00. Not only was that alot of money but as I left the shop and consequently discussed my sorrowful goodbye to my Mink fur winter jacket with the others I discovered that if I indeed did have the money I could afford to buy such an item I would also be able to pay for not one, not two, not three but four trips to Las Vegas with my girls. Or maybe a wedding itself including the Temperley frock. Or even as a deposit on a nice little starter home with my Husband-to-be. Or I could have had the coat!
As the night drew in Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I all headed for the car hands empty and my heart ready to burst. An exhausting day down I headed home ready to hit my head onto that cold pillow of mine fresh for the shops of Bedford again on Sunday. But as manic as the shops were on the last day of the Black Friday Weekend I was able to do two good deeds in the form of buying some specialist chocolate advent calenders for a lady at work whose children seem to have allergies to everything and anything as well as return a lost handbag to a little old lady otherwise known as Mrs. Burridge of Bedford. So all's well that ends well and after an eventful weekend I am not stopping as the run-up to the big day begins I have little or no time to spare between working, working and socialising. Pheww! I don't know how I do it sometimes ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)