Evening All,
Someone once told me when I was much younger that the phone seldom brings good news when past nine at night. And oh how right they are.
After a long week at work I was ready to settle down with Mr. Warehouse, chill out with a drink or two over dinner and discuss our busy weekend to come. What with my Daddies big 5-0 party on Saturday evening I was looking forward to getting glammed up and seeing some familiar faces again. Getting my nails done and having a hair-cut I was excited to spend my weekend with loved ones. But as I snuggled into my boyfriends chest, man-boob and all, I could hear my phone vibrating on the side. Flicking on the light, my ringtone kicked in for another repetition I raced to the kitchen to pick it up. It was my Dad. I answered thinking it was something about the party. It wasn't. As I walked back to my bedroom of my small, dark flat I perched myself on the edge of the bed. Feeling hot all of a sudden and with prickles beginning in my eyes I listened carefully to what I was being told.
My grandfather has not been well for a long time. Ever since I was small I can remember him bribing me or my Brother to get him tit-bits from the kitchen or fetch him something from around the bungalow he shared with my Grandmother. I never remember him being the active type to walk around the garden let alone run after his grandchildren. But as I got older he seemed to take more of a back burner in my life-story, forever there but always playing the part of a extra rather than a starring role. I still loved him, but I suppose a older child, and being the only girl in the family, I don't think he really knew what to do with me. Becoming a teenager I was always rebelling and whilst he was there to stick his ore in a few times I knew that the majority of the time he probably knew best. After retiring and not keeping as active as he was working as a refuse collector for the local council back home he grew larger than he ever had. A mixture of nothing to do and a constantly well stocked cupboard made his weight balloon and over the next few years his weight would fluctuate between looking like a Christmas Turkey and looking like a Turkey whom had got a lucky escape from the December oven. Always being clinically termed "morbidly obese" it never seemed to bother him and I suppose as his family it never really bothered us. Until that was he reached a point of no return.
With the lack of exercise my Grandfather's legs started to become sore. in time they became infected and had to be dressed and redressed several times a day. At one point us as a family were left wondering that if the infection got any worse that it may lead to amputation. Whilst on crutches the Doctors still encouraged my Granddad to walk, even if it was to the kitchen or to the top of my grandparents highly maintained garden. But he failed to listen. On the odd occasion he could be found in the kitchen standing up or sitting on a stool peeling vegetables for dinner or preparing something yummy for lunch, but more often than not he would be in front of the Telly or on the computer. After progressively getting worse over the next few years he was in and out of hospital with heart problems and even referred to the UK's leading heart hospital in Harefield, just outside of London. Worried we all might loose him I made sure I put in the effort to see him and the family when I could. After a triple heart bypass surgery to fix the dodgy ticker I thought that this would be it and he would not only be back to his old self but be more conscience about what he puts in his mouth and how much more moving he should be doing. But alas, as yet again this fell on deaf ears.
Last year Granddad had a fall as he was getting in and out the shower. Breaking his leg clean, his Femur was too broken to stand on and so more crutches and a brace was used. Taking its toll on Grandpop's heart he was rushed into hospital again after being allowed home, but after dying on the operating table and having lost more than six-pints of blood, we were lucky as a family to still have him alive. You could say he was a fighter, but if you could fight off death, you could fight off the fat attacking your organs. But even after all of that there was no change in his spirit and after much consideration he was put into a local care home so that the adequate care could be given. And there he has stayed for the past few months.
I try to visit as much as I can and do when I have time but with life as busy as it usually is you could sometimes go weeks forgetting to even call or text. With the lack of "get-up-and-go" Granddad became sneaky, asking family members to smuggle in sweet treats like nuts, seeds, berries and crisps. When he approached me I stood my ground and whilst it was one of the hardest things to do I knew I was doing him good. But ever since that moment My Granddad whom I love and care for dearly has been stand off-ish and is quite frankly rude in some circumstance, leading me several times to put him firmly in his place. The family agreed that for too long we have been soft and that now, more than ever, we needed to take a tough love approach to Granddad and his behaviour. That was until he was rushed into hospital on Friday evening suffering from too much fluid in his lungs and with his heart not strong enough to pump it out I listened intently to what my father told me next.
"Your Grandfather is going to die. It could be weeks, it could be months, it may even be years - But he is dying" My Dad said out loud. My heart nearly stopped. As I croaked out past the growing frog in my throat I took in and accepted fully what I had already known for months, if not years. "He is dying" I thought. "He is actually, really dying and there is nothing I can do to stop this?!" Hanging up the phone I sat bewildered for a moment. Somehow I had always known this would be the result of over eating and under moving but to finally hear it from the source of a Doctor, passed through the ears of a family to the granddaughter was hard to take in. I am only twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four and never have I ever experienced a death this close. Rising from the bed I went to make a cup of tea, sweet with lots of sugar, a proper little, china tea-cup and all. Coming back to bed I climbed in next to Mr. Warehouse and thought about what was next. With the words solidifying in my head I was left with more questions than answers. "Do we just wait? Wait until another nightly call comes along to inform us that we are no longer with Granddad?" I wondered.
"Is this really the next chapter in my life? The next thing to go wrong?" mixed round my head with questions about why Mr. Warehouse was here - Was he next in what was seeming to be a long list of boyfriends that only turned up to help me through a difficult point in my life. Mr. Ginge was there when my parents divorced and when I was chucked out by my hateful mother. Mr. Workaholic was there throughout the years of torment form my mother and the separation from my baby brother. Mr. Coffee, Mr. Sick and Mr. Woof were their to fill the gaping hole that Mr. Workaholic had left when we separated. Mr. Cheese was their when I moved into my first ever flat and when I changed careers from stressful credit control to where I am today. Is this the tale of Mr. Warehouse? I hope not! I was starting to really like this one?! The good egg I thought. Maybe "The One"? I don't want to loose him, but at the same time I have some slight issues with relying on people to be there for me. What with my Grandfather being in hospital all I wanted to do was be enveloped by my boyfriends and his protecting arms, telling me that fairy-tales of how it would be all OK. Equally though I wanted to push him as far away as the moon favouring myself and my own company in comparison to leaning emotionally on yet another boy who would break my heart.
"Why do people have to get old?!" I sobbed into my cooling tea-cup, feeling very much like a child whom had just found their goldfish belly up. "Why does this have to happen now?" I sniffled for now I am in the knowledge that my Grandpop's will never see me get married. He will never hold his great grandchildren in his arms. He will never come round and throw himself into my sofa in a house I have just bought. No, he will never see those things. Not only am I feeling angry and bitter that he has let this happen to himself, selfishly not only letting our family down but more disappointingly, letting himself down. We have always been a big family and with weight being a constant issue for us all, I think it is safe to say that this has given us a gentle nudge to do something about it before it gets to the stage whereby we are all too old and frail to stop it from killing us.
After speaking to Mr. Warehouse and Miss Tweedle-Dumb well into the small hours of Saturday morning I soon feel asleep holding my tea-cup, now empty. Upon waking everything seemed normal, until Mr. Warehouse mentioned the night before and suddenly it all came flooding horrendously back to me. Gathering myself together, Mr. Warehouse and I packed for our weekend away back home in Luton and with plans to see my Granddad on Sunday I was hoping for some fun to brighten my mood. And Saturday night certainly did not disappoint! Squaddies dressed in offencive camp outfits, high-heeled tumbles and even the odd boogie on the dance-floor it was a definite winner in terms of pick-me-up's. With all the old faces from my childhood I found myself getting wasted with the best of them, and even had a cheeky "Special Cigarette" with my Dad's best friend from Somerset.
But as I write to you now, eyes heavy with the call of my bed, I am only thinking of one person. Whether it be in two weeks or in two months, I can almost guarantee that by the time Christmas arrives, there will be one less Santa in my world.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heart. Show all posts
Monday, 20 July 2015
Monday, 27 April 2015
Giving the Gift of Life!
Evening all,
So last week I was talking of learning to drive and slowly but surely scraping the money together in order to afford my motorcycle licence, and whilst still important something caught my eye as I was reading a newspaper the other day on my morning commute.
About a year ago, childhood sweethearts from Cardiff in South Wales gave birth to a little baby boy called Teddy and his twin, Noah. Teddy was poorly and after a few hours he sadly past away. A story widely covered by the British media I was in awe of how little Teddy's parents handled the traumatic ordeal as after much deliberation they allowed his tiny frame to be donated in the aid of helping others through being a donor. I believe that both his heart and his kidneys were used in helping someone else live a day that this brave little bear couldn't have.
I was shocked to learn that since the 1st of April 2015, there are over six-thousand people awaiting a organ in the UK. That means that every single one of those people, in the majority of circumstances, are awaiting a death to bring them life. In the last twenty-seven days since the beginning of the month, sixty-eight people have donated something in aid of helping another person to live on which is fantastic, but in comparison to the one-hundred and seventy-one people who took a transplant or donated organs its sad to see that people are more willing to take than they are to give. And this got me thinking about me. And as I stared out the window at the oncoming traffic and the trees and buildings passing me by I thought about what I would do in that situation. In all honesty I would like to think that everyone would act in the same way, giving up parts of their child so another human life can be saved. I would like to think that I could do this, however if faced with the circumstances I don't know if I would truly be able to go through with it. I have always said that organ donation should be an opt into service as opposed to the current, opt-in system we have here in the UK. If I don't want my organs being shipped out across the country, possibly even the world, then I should be within the power to say no before that happens. I am currently on the donor register in England and Wales and am proud to know that if I sadly die (unfortunate I know) that I could potentially save multiple lives, and thus ending and preventing the grief for their families, at least for a short while anyway. I have donated, at least registered them for donation should anything happen to me, some of my most medically sought after assets including my Liver, lungs and Kidneys ... Just like Teddy!
There is a line whereby I draw and say enough is enough. I would have certain rules on who gets a piece of me, I mean there isn't that much "brilliant" for everyone! I would ask that my organs are never given to anyone who failed to look after their own, for example my lungs to an inherent smoker for the past thirty years or to a alcoholic whose liver had packed up from all the White Ace and Frosty Jacks. No, I would insist that my items go to someone whom will love them as much as I have and cherish them as they're own. As well as that, out of the list of donated items you can gift someone I have only two exceptions; My eyes and my heart. My eyes, or moreso my Corneas which are of most value to people can bring the magic of sight, yes, however I would want them kept in tact as I head to the grave, in the knowledge that no-one will every see some of the most beautiful, and sometimes heartbreaking things. My heart on the other hand I am grappling with. On the one side you have the fact that it is something all the more metaphoric and symbolic. With my heart I have loved many (you have seen the amount of Mister's I go through) and may there be many, many more to come. The phrase "Listen to your heart" is one I think sometimes I have done too much in the past but worry that in the future I will look back and regret I never did enough of. But then on the other side of the coin you have the simple scientific and biological fact that it is just tissue and muscle and a organ that powers my entire being. Without it my existence would be nothing and I would quite frankly be dead!
Death is horrible to think of and about, but it is as natural as nature intended. From the moment we are born we are dying (and in some cases a Monday afternoon can escalate that feeling all too well some may say) but one thing is for sure that as we take our first breath's as babies, screaming for air, we are destined for a life of unknown fortune and fate! Its not nice to have that conversation with Granny or Grandpa but sometimes I really do feel like you have to. In order to preserve and respect their wishes beyond the grave you have to talk about it when you have the chance, after all you wont get any answers from a cold corpse and I would hope that my friends and family would know what I want and help me in achieving that after I am gone.
I would hope that I could make it into my nineties before I die. I would like to get a letter from the Queen (or King by that point) congratulating me on my 100th birthday. I would like to see my children, have children, who in turn will have more children. I would like to fart and blame it on a dog I don't have and get away with it just because I am old. But if that day doesn't come, and I am called away on business by another entity then I am safe in the knowledge that I can not only spread humour and laughter through my story telling and wit, but also through helping others, because its not every day you can say you saved not one, but many lives, maybe even created a few in the process of giving something un-giveable.
To find out more, please visit: http://www.organdonation.nhs.uk/ and don't just think about it, register and start saving lives as soon as yours has ended. Thank You.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So last week I was talking of learning to drive and slowly but surely scraping the money together in order to afford my motorcycle licence, and whilst still important something caught my eye as I was reading a newspaper the other day on my morning commute.
About a year ago, childhood sweethearts from Cardiff in South Wales gave birth to a little baby boy called Teddy and his twin, Noah. Teddy was poorly and after a few hours he sadly past away. A story widely covered by the British media I was in awe of how little Teddy's parents handled the traumatic ordeal as after much deliberation they allowed his tiny frame to be donated in the aid of helping others through being a donor. I believe that both his heart and his kidneys were used in helping someone else live a day that this brave little bear couldn't have.
I was shocked to learn that since the 1st of April 2015, there are over six-thousand people awaiting a organ in the UK. That means that every single one of those people, in the majority of circumstances, are awaiting a death to bring them life. In the last twenty-seven days since the beginning of the month, sixty-eight people have donated something in aid of helping another person to live on which is fantastic, but in comparison to the one-hundred and seventy-one people who took a transplant or donated organs its sad to see that people are more willing to take than they are to give. And this got me thinking about me. And as I stared out the window at the oncoming traffic and the trees and buildings passing me by I thought about what I would do in that situation. In all honesty I would like to think that everyone would act in the same way, giving up parts of their child so another human life can be saved. I would like to think that I could do this, however if faced with the circumstances I don't know if I would truly be able to go through with it. I have always said that organ donation should be an opt into service as opposed to the current, opt-in system we have here in the UK. If I don't want my organs being shipped out across the country, possibly even the world, then I should be within the power to say no before that happens. I am currently on the donor register in England and Wales and am proud to know that if I sadly die (unfortunate I know) that I could potentially save multiple lives, and thus ending and preventing the grief for their families, at least for a short while anyway. I have donated, at least registered them for donation should anything happen to me, some of my most medically sought after assets including my Liver, lungs and Kidneys ... Just like Teddy!
There is a line whereby I draw and say enough is enough. I would have certain rules on who gets a piece of me, I mean there isn't that much "brilliant" for everyone! I would ask that my organs are never given to anyone who failed to look after their own, for example my lungs to an inherent smoker for the past thirty years or to a alcoholic whose liver had packed up from all the White Ace and Frosty Jacks. No, I would insist that my items go to someone whom will love them as much as I have and cherish them as they're own. As well as that, out of the list of donated items you can gift someone I have only two exceptions; My eyes and my heart. My eyes, or moreso my Corneas which are of most value to people can bring the magic of sight, yes, however I would want them kept in tact as I head to the grave, in the knowledge that no-one will every see some of the most beautiful, and sometimes heartbreaking things. My heart on the other hand I am grappling with. On the one side you have the fact that it is something all the more metaphoric and symbolic. With my heart I have loved many (you have seen the amount of Mister's I go through) and may there be many, many more to come. The phrase "Listen to your heart" is one I think sometimes I have done too much in the past but worry that in the future I will look back and regret I never did enough of. But then on the other side of the coin you have the simple scientific and biological fact that it is just tissue and muscle and a organ that powers my entire being. Without it my existence would be nothing and I would quite frankly be dead!
Death is horrible to think of and about, but it is as natural as nature intended. From the moment we are born we are dying (and in some cases a Monday afternoon can escalate that feeling all too well some may say) but one thing is for sure that as we take our first breath's as babies, screaming for air, we are destined for a life of unknown fortune and fate! Its not nice to have that conversation with Granny or Grandpa but sometimes I really do feel like you have to. In order to preserve and respect their wishes beyond the grave you have to talk about it when you have the chance, after all you wont get any answers from a cold corpse and I would hope that my friends and family would know what I want and help me in achieving that after I am gone.
I would hope that I could make it into my nineties before I die. I would like to get a letter from the Queen (or King by that point) congratulating me on my 100th birthday. I would like to see my children, have children, who in turn will have more children. I would like to fart and blame it on a dog I don't have and get away with it just because I am old. But if that day doesn't come, and I am called away on business by another entity then I am safe in the knowledge that I can not only spread humour and laughter through my story telling and wit, but also through helping others, because its not every day you can say you saved not one, but many lives, maybe even created a few in the process of giving something un-giveable.
To find out more, please visit: http://www.organdonation.nhs.uk/ and don't just think about it, register and start saving lives as soon as yours has ended. Thank You.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 8 September 2014
Ego Vobis Valedico (I Say Goodbye To You)
Hello there,
So one week on and a slight emotional roller-coaster as always (would you expect anything less from me?) but nevertheless I have been able to suck it up and get on with it. Unfortunately I have not yet been on Date number two with Mr. ToyBoy as yet however there is no need to rush into things as I am sure we will have plenty of time - Until I die before he does as a result of before mentioned age gap, Haha.
And so with no Date planned with anybody else either I saw my week moderately filled up with social meetings, cinema trips and hanging out with friends. Even managed to squeeze in a little trip to the Zoo with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Pea - Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little Sister. Well I say little but at eighteen she is the same age as my Brother but that doesn't stop me thinking of her as the baby of the pack. My weekend was spent having makeshift facials (Nothing filthy you - Just Miss Tweedle-Dumb lathering my face with a moist, creamy substance), being pestered into going to the Zoo to see monkeys by Miss Tweedle-Dee and company and then on top of all of that being told that I have no maternal instinct and should never be allowed to be around children under the age of twelve. Thanks Guys! Sometimes I wonder how lucky I am to have friends with such confidence in me being a parent one day. Really, Haha! But the week wasn't always so jovial and light. There was a dark cloud that hung over yesterday (Sunday) that had been grimacing since Thursday, a storm I knew was coming and one which I had prepared in every way I could and knew how to ...
Rushing through my workload I realised come midday that my 'in' tray was empty. I had boshed through my pile of papers on my desk so hard I was now sat here twiddling my digits. Taking an early lunch I messaged my dinner date and checked in on my Tinder's. As a final farewell and in all honesty a last ditch attempt at getting laid I had invited Mr. Cheese over for dinner and a film at my apartment although I think we both knew that two bottles of our favourite Rose and my warm orange sofa would soon make the film seem like the less entertaining option. Returning to my desk I pottered around the rest of my working day keeping myself busy until the clock hit five and it was home-time for me! Snatching at my coat and scurrying off the bathroom to apply my war paint I was soon ready and waiting outside the office under my window awaiting the blue bug to come bumbling round the corner into the now quiet industrial estate. Adjusting my pink 1950's skirt and leather jacket I then lit a cigarette cockily thinking to myself that what did I care if he went out to Ghana for quarter of a year and met some blonde bimbo called Sarah-Jane, I was way out of his league anyway. I needed something real. After a good twenty-minutes of bigging myself up and yet again checking my dating profiles for potential suitors in the hope that Mr. ToyBoy would message me back more frequently than he was a car pulled into the parking lot. Climbing in I went to lean in for a kiss only to realise stupidly that this was not the etiquette now Mr. Cheese and I were no longer dating.
Pulling away we chatted about our days and as we crossed the river into town I looked out at the water that once blossomed our relationship but now is a source of life for something new. I smiled at the irony as a voice asked what I had been up to since we had last met. "Is it a good idea to tell my ex that I have met someone new?" I thought to myself. I decided 'no' but only because it would inevitably lead round to the question "Well I have - Have you?" and in all honesty I just didn't want to hear about the dates that he had been on. Ignorance is bliss they say and I wasn't going to spoil my chances of a spoon. Letting ourselves into my flat I listened to some of the pompous and frankly upper-class snobbery that was vacating Mr. Cheese's mouth. I knew he was posh but fuck me! Maybe this was for the better?!
Plating up I donned the table with condiments and nice cutlery as Mr. Cheese topped up my wine glass. Sitting down to dinner and without thinking I let him take the floor with conversation. Avoiding his gaze and not really listening to him I acknowledged more the view from my window across the rooftops of Suburbia. Conversation soon switched though and became about that dreaded subject - Us! Talking honestly and openly I again gave him the space he clearly needed to express about our failed relationship. On noting just that - Another one of my failed relationships - I was told that Mr. Cheese did not see it as a failure but as something that had to happen. Fate almost. Disregarding his philosophy I reached for bottle number two at this point and retreated to the sofa, changing the subjects to something a little less depressing than my lack of a normal relationship that wasn't between myself and Cadburys. As the liquid-relaxant kept flowing and I slid on my new heel's making me now taller than my 6ft-Ex we soon noticed that the fiery couch was up to its old tricks again.
Etching closer I knew more than both of us the painful implications in which this would end but tossing them aside along with other undergarments we retreated to the bedroom, lead only by the flickering flames of the all hallowed Yankee Candle in a sickly sweet Salted Caramel flavour. After a short period of teasing we got on with it only for me to wonder why I was here again. As we lay panting, my head on Mr. Cheese's chest I played with his chest wig one last time bidding it a silence goodbye from behind my lashes. Running my fingers over his sternum was something that had always comforted me and now this was the last time. For ever. I knew that when he walked out that door in the morning it would be the last time we ever saw each other again. But at least we would fall asleep together. At least I would have one more morning waking up to him right beside me. Wrong! Mr. Cheese soon made the statement that he was sleeping at his Grandma's that night and as a result could not stay the night. All my preparation had gone out with window. This was something I did not have a contingency plan for!
Feeling myself loose my grip on the situation I fought within myself, a constant battle that continued for almost an hour. Back and fourth I grappled between telling him to fuck the fuck off and begging his to stay, the later only brought back the scorching pain of the moment Mr. Workaholic left me. I knew that once he left I would be alone once more with only my mind and TV to keep me company. Feeling anxious at the prospect of spending the night alone I pulled on his arm to keep him from getting dressed. When told that Mr. Cheese was leaving I responded by lashing out. This went on until the Cab arrived to take him away. In the knowledge of its stationary position outside my door I sat on my bed, cross-legged and naked. I was as bare as a human could be. Almost as a metaphor to our relationship I had yet again laid myself open to him, open as a book and had poured my heart out presenting my soul as an offering and yet it still wasn't enough.
Making a promise to myself never to get to this point again, I let my head know once more that I was going to be OK. As Mr. Cheese perched himself on the end of my bed I tried one last attempt to make him call off the Taxi. He declined in apology. Starting an obviously well-rehearsed soliloquy with how I should remember how beautiful and special I am, I rested my fingers on his soft lips, putting the goodbye to an end. Even though I knew that this was the end and that it was for ever a goodbye in ever sense of the word, I did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever. I had accepted it in my head, but hearing it from a different voice to my own would only make it more real. As Mr. Cheese and I stared into eyes that were filling, for the first time mine broke first. Wiping my cheek I took off my silver St. Christopher's and placed it over the head of hair I had come to know and love, explaining that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travel and would keep him safe on his own adventures.
"But it's yours ... " Said Mr. Cheese, sobbing too.
"It was never mine" I replied lovingly with a small smile. Holding each other in a tight embrace I swore that this was the end and that tomorrow would be a fresh chapter in the novel of me. As my front door clicked I raced to the skylight pushing it wide open, breathing in the crisp night air. Mr. Cheese looked up. Whether he saw me or not I don't know but that was the last time I ever saw him. Watching the lights of the Cab drive off down the quiet street I stood looking out across the navy sky for a long time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that he would come back. But Mr. Cheese didn't. He never did. And so I poured myself a Screwdriver to ease the pain only to shun it moments later realising I had poured it into the glass Mr. Cheese had drank from hours earlier. Curling up on my trusty settee I spent the entire night trying in-vain to sleep. I couldn't. I wanted to, even just for a little bit, just to pretend this was all a bad dream. It wasn't. This was reality now. My reality. And yet again I was alone.
But this time it was different. I was in my flat. With my sofa and my bed. They belonged to me not Mr. Cheese. So why was I letting him get the better of me. Consulting a friend most the night we chatted into the small hours and when the frosty sun finally broke through the Friday morning fog I knew that work would bring forward a purpose and something to occupy my brain. After no sleep at all I threw on something from my wardrobe not bothering to dress up for the office today. I needed comfort and if I found it in a pair of baggy jeans, soft jumper and Converse then so be it.
The days have passed tediously and yesterday alone seemed painfully slow to end. Despite me having a good time with close friends and enjoying a wonderfully impromptu day out watching Chimpanzee's scratch their arse and Elephants defecating in front of a live audience, I couldn't help but notice the hours ticking down to the moment in which Mr. Cheese and I would no longer be on the same continent let alone breathing in the same air. Last night though on my way home and before I put the key in my door I looked up at the moon, as I did with the sun today, and comforted myself in the knowledge that it we would both be looking at the same thing.
I'm not saying that I should never trust any more people with my heart or that I will never fall in love again. I'm only stating that next time I would prefer it to be real and something in which I can grow and nurture, not something that needs constant attention and weeding to keep healthy. And so my final closing statement is one of joy and thoughtfulness. To the person four-thousand, four-hundred and eighty-five miles away staring at that same ball of light in the sky I ask you - Did you pack your bag yourself?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So one week on and a slight emotional roller-coaster as always (would you expect anything less from me?) but nevertheless I have been able to suck it up and get on with it. Unfortunately I have not yet been on Date number two with Mr. ToyBoy as yet however there is no need to rush into things as I am sure we will have plenty of time - Until I die before he does as a result of before mentioned age gap, Haha.
And so with no Date planned with anybody else either I saw my week moderately filled up with social meetings, cinema trips and hanging out with friends. Even managed to squeeze in a little trip to the Zoo with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Pea - Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little Sister. Well I say little but at eighteen she is the same age as my Brother but that doesn't stop me thinking of her as the baby of the pack. My weekend was spent having makeshift facials (Nothing filthy you - Just Miss Tweedle-Dumb lathering my face with a moist, creamy substance), being pestered into going to the Zoo to see monkeys by Miss Tweedle-Dee and company and then on top of all of that being told that I have no maternal instinct and should never be allowed to be around children under the age of twelve. Thanks Guys! Sometimes I wonder how lucky I am to have friends with such confidence in me being a parent one day. Really, Haha! But the week wasn't always so jovial and light. There was a dark cloud that hung over yesterday (Sunday) that had been grimacing since Thursday, a storm I knew was coming and one which I had prepared in every way I could and knew how to ...
Rushing through my workload I realised come midday that my 'in' tray was empty. I had boshed through my pile of papers on my desk so hard I was now sat here twiddling my digits. Taking an early lunch I messaged my dinner date and checked in on my Tinder's. As a final farewell and in all honesty a last ditch attempt at getting laid I had invited Mr. Cheese over for dinner and a film at my apartment although I think we both knew that two bottles of our favourite Rose and my warm orange sofa would soon make the film seem like the less entertaining option. Returning to my desk I pottered around the rest of my working day keeping myself busy until the clock hit five and it was home-time for me! Snatching at my coat and scurrying off the bathroom to apply my war paint I was soon ready and waiting outside the office under my window awaiting the blue bug to come bumbling round the corner into the now quiet industrial estate. Adjusting my pink 1950's skirt and leather jacket I then lit a cigarette cockily thinking to myself that what did I care if he went out to Ghana for quarter of a year and met some blonde bimbo called Sarah-Jane, I was way out of his league anyway. I needed something real. After a good twenty-minutes of bigging myself up and yet again checking my dating profiles for potential suitors in the hope that Mr. ToyBoy would message me back more frequently than he was a car pulled into the parking lot. Climbing in I went to lean in for a kiss only to realise stupidly that this was not the etiquette now Mr. Cheese and I were no longer dating.
Pulling away we chatted about our days and as we crossed the river into town I looked out at the water that once blossomed our relationship but now is a source of life for something new. I smiled at the irony as a voice asked what I had been up to since we had last met. "Is it a good idea to tell my ex that I have met someone new?" I thought to myself. I decided 'no' but only because it would inevitably lead round to the question "Well I have - Have you?" and in all honesty I just didn't want to hear about the dates that he had been on. Ignorance is bliss they say and I wasn't going to spoil my chances of a spoon. Letting ourselves into my flat I listened to some of the pompous and frankly upper-class snobbery that was vacating Mr. Cheese's mouth. I knew he was posh but fuck me! Maybe this was for the better?!
Plating up I donned the table with condiments and nice cutlery as Mr. Cheese topped up my wine glass. Sitting down to dinner and without thinking I let him take the floor with conversation. Avoiding his gaze and not really listening to him I acknowledged more the view from my window across the rooftops of Suburbia. Conversation soon switched though and became about that dreaded subject - Us! Talking honestly and openly I again gave him the space he clearly needed to express about our failed relationship. On noting just that - Another one of my failed relationships - I was told that Mr. Cheese did not see it as a failure but as something that had to happen. Fate almost. Disregarding his philosophy I reached for bottle number two at this point and retreated to the sofa, changing the subjects to something a little less depressing than my lack of a normal relationship that wasn't between myself and Cadburys. As the liquid-relaxant kept flowing and I slid on my new heel's making me now taller than my 6ft-Ex we soon noticed that the fiery couch was up to its old tricks again.
Etching closer I knew more than both of us the painful implications in which this would end but tossing them aside along with other undergarments we retreated to the bedroom, lead only by the flickering flames of the all hallowed Yankee Candle in a sickly sweet Salted Caramel flavour. After a short period of teasing we got on with it only for me to wonder why I was here again. As we lay panting, my head on Mr. Cheese's chest I played with his chest wig one last time bidding it a silence goodbye from behind my lashes. Running my fingers over his sternum was something that had always comforted me and now this was the last time. For ever. I knew that when he walked out that door in the morning it would be the last time we ever saw each other again. But at least we would fall asleep together. At least I would have one more morning waking up to him right beside me. Wrong! Mr. Cheese soon made the statement that he was sleeping at his Grandma's that night and as a result could not stay the night. All my preparation had gone out with window. This was something I did not have a contingency plan for!
Feeling myself loose my grip on the situation I fought within myself, a constant battle that continued for almost an hour. Back and fourth I grappled between telling him to fuck the fuck off and begging his to stay, the later only brought back the scorching pain of the moment Mr. Workaholic left me. I knew that once he left I would be alone once more with only my mind and TV to keep me company. Feeling anxious at the prospect of spending the night alone I pulled on his arm to keep him from getting dressed. When told that Mr. Cheese was leaving I responded by lashing out. This went on until the Cab arrived to take him away. In the knowledge of its stationary position outside my door I sat on my bed, cross-legged and naked. I was as bare as a human could be. Almost as a metaphor to our relationship I had yet again laid myself open to him, open as a book and had poured my heart out presenting my soul as an offering and yet it still wasn't enough.
Making a promise to myself never to get to this point again, I let my head know once more that I was going to be OK. As Mr. Cheese perched himself on the end of my bed I tried one last attempt to make him call off the Taxi. He declined in apology. Starting an obviously well-rehearsed soliloquy with how I should remember how beautiful and special I am, I rested my fingers on his soft lips, putting the goodbye to an end. Even though I knew that this was the end and that it was for ever a goodbye in ever sense of the word, I did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever. I had accepted it in my head, but hearing it from a different voice to my own would only make it more real. As Mr. Cheese and I stared into eyes that were filling, for the first time mine broke first. Wiping my cheek I took off my silver St. Christopher's and placed it over the head of hair I had come to know and love, explaining that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travel and would keep him safe on his own adventures.
"But it's yours ... " Said Mr. Cheese, sobbing too.
"It was never mine" I replied lovingly with a small smile. Holding each other in a tight embrace I swore that this was the end and that tomorrow would be a fresh chapter in the novel of me. As my front door clicked I raced to the skylight pushing it wide open, breathing in the crisp night air. Mr. Cheese looked up. Whether he saw me or not I don't know but that was the last time I ever saw him. Watching the lights of the Cab drive off down the quiet street I stood looking out across the navy sky for a long time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that he would come back. But Mr. Cheese didn't. He never did. And so I poured myself a Screwdriver to ease the pain only to shun it moments later realising I had poured it into the glass Mr. Cheese had drank from hours earlier. Curling up on my trusty settee I spent the entire night trying in-vain to sleep. I couldn't. I wanted to, even just for a little bit, just to pretend this was all a bad dream. It wasn't. This was reality now. My reality. And yet again I was alone.
But this time it was different. I was in my flat. With my sofa and my bed. They belonged to me not Mr. Cheese. So why was I letting him get the better of me. Consulting a friend most the night we chatted into the small hours and when the frosty sun finally broke through the Friday morning fog I knew that work would bring forward a purpose and something to occupy my brain. After no sleep at all I threw on something from my wardrobe not bothering to dress up for the office today. I needed comfort and if I found it in a pair of baggy jeans, soft jumper and Converse then so be it.
The days have passed tediously and yesterday alone seemed painfully slow to end. Despite me having a good time with close friends and enjoying a wonderfully impromptu day out watching Chimpanzee's scratch their arse and Elephants defecating in front of a live audience, I couldn't help but notice the hours ticking down to the moment in which Mr. Cheese and I would no longer be on the same continent let alone breathing in the same air. Last night though on my way home and before I put the key in my door I looked up at the moon, as I did with the sun today, and comforted myself in the knowledge that it we would both be looking at the same thing.
I'm not saying that I should never trust any more people with my heart or that I will never fall in love again. I'm only stating that next time I would prefer it to be real and something in which I can grow and nurture, not something that needs constant attention and weeding to keep healthy. And so my final closing statement is one of joy and thoughtfulness. To the person four-thousand, four-hundred and eighty-five miles away staring at that same ball of light in the sky I ask you - Did you pack your bag yourself?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 17 February 2014
Love is in The Air and It Stinks!
Hello there!
And what a busy week I have been having since the laziness of the past few. So typical boring British I shall begin with the weather however don't be turned off just yet as I am merely stating the fine fact that the past few days have been warmer than average and I am looking out of my window now at work from my new desk as Credit Control Administrator with a smile on my face in the knowledge that summer is only just around the corner.
So this week in the UK and I am assuming most other places on planet earth it was that god awful day ... Valentine's Day. Now I love 'Love' and in fact I am sure that some of you will know that I am the kind of person that falls very easily and quickly for someone. Not naming names here but there is more Mr. Men here that there is in a children's book store! I enjoy the fact that for at least one day a year everyone should have the ability to either get chocolates, beer, flowers or sex and if your in a relationship then lucky you because you probably are getting all three. Valentine's Day is a wonderful occasion that you can celebrate with your loved one. Unfortunately for me those days were over some weeks ago and so this year I spent my Valentine's with my fellow singleton, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her cat (Although I'm not sure if the cat has a lover? Great now I'm starting to think that the cat gets laid more than I do!)
Every year this calender event rolls around and every year I feel like carrying around a sick bag just watching other people being in love and in all honesty happy. I hate it. And yet at the same time I want to join in and share in that love although it is frowned upon to just pull up a chair to a couple on a date in a restaurant (Not from experience of course!) It is such a bitter/sweet moment. The fact is that whilst I had purchased slushy and somewhat crude Valentine's card's for Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee; I had also purchased, signed, sealed and delivered such a card for a certain someone. I shall not name names but I have been told off by many friends of mine for sending such a thing and to never do it again. Yes, that might not have been the most cleverest of things to do but I thought nothing of it and if I'm honest; hoped it would patch up some holes.
Friday night after finishing work I headed home and packed a bag for the weekend. Not only was I indulging in a night in with my Miss Tweedle-Dee but I was also meeting with Miss Cupcake who is getting married in several months. Miss Cupcake has asked me to be the photographer for her wedding as mentioned last week and we had finally put aside some time in our busy schedule's to walk around the grounds in which the soon-to-be-weds intend to take their vows. Looking outside however hearing the rain start to drizzle down my quaint windows I felt that this may not be the weather for a half-hour walk to the train station. But I couldn't leave it as knowing England the rain could go on for days. Braving the cold, wet droplets I headed for the station only to get there colder and wetter than when I first started out. I was now frustrated and annoyed and just wanted to be warm and cuddly. And the mood did not improve when I got to the other end. I boarded the wrong bus which stopped half way and chucked me out in the middle of where I grew up (A place I despise with a passion). A typically deprived 'chav'-area and despite living there for the longest period in my life I had not taken on the appearance of a common resident around those parts. A life filled with 'Jeremy Kyle' and the occasional spliff, lounging in bed all day with the only reasons to get up is either going to sign on, feeding one of your nine children (all by different fathers) or maybe a trip to the local shops to steal stuff in your Primark ugg boots and pyjamas, or if your lucky a velour tracksuit! Yes I did not miss my hometown.
Angrily cursing under my breath I huffed into the freezing air. Aggravated I punched in the numbers of a local cab company I knew of. As it dialled through I thought about how unsatisfying it is to just press a screen when you are mad. Long gone are the days where you could push down so hard of buttons they would catch under the plastic handset or snap shut that person on the other end of the line. In good time (But not good enough given my foul mood) the cab arrived and I was soon en route to Miss Tweedle-Dee's humble abode. As soon as I arrived I hopped straight in the shower, warming my bones that had chilled in the weather. Walking out into the warmness of her home I noticed Miss Tweedle-Dee had brought out her guitar. Feeling more of an improvement now I had arrived at my final destination and knowing the tune she was strumming away to I joined in with the chorus and thus commenced our Valentine's night. The remainder was just as I had hoped for. Girly chit-chat, Youtube videos, takeaway food and a horror film. I think it was one of the best Valentine's Days I have ever had, regardless if Miss Tweedle-Dee pre-booked me over a year in advance. I hope maybe next year I can do the same - With or without a boyfriend!
Who knows what next year may bring. The next twelve-months will be an exciting journey I shall share with you all once more again. The highs, the lows. The Mr.'s and the Miss'. Maybe this time next year I shall with with someone, or maybe just the same old loon still partying as she enters her twenty-fourth year of life! Regardless I know I'll have a whale of a time (maybe because I was called one on a beach sometime! Sad face). This week I have a flat to fix-up, a house-warming to prepare for and a date with someone who shall be named before encountered - Mr. Minigolf!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
And what a busy week I have been having since the laziness of the past few. So typical boring British I shall begin with the weather however don't be turned off just yet as I am merely stating the fine fact that the past few days have been warmer than average and I am looking out of my window now at work from my new desk as Credit Control Administrator with a smile on my face in the knowledge that summer is only just around the corner.
So this week in the UK and I am assuming most other places on planet earth it was that god awful day ... Valentine's Day. Now I love 'Love' and in fact I am sure that some of you will know that I am the kind of person that falls very easily and quickly for someone. Not naming names here but there is more Mr. Men here that there is in a children's book store! I enjoy the fact that for at least one day a year everyone should have the ability to either get chocolates, beer, flowers or sex and if your in a relationship then lucky you because you probably are getting all three. Valentine's Day is a wonderful occasion that you can celebrate with your loved one. Unfortunately for me those days were over some weeks ago and so this year I spent my Valentine's with my fellow singleton, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her cat (Although I'm not sure if the cat has a lover? Great now I'm starting to think that the cat gets laid more than I do!)
Every year this calender event rolls around and every year I feel like carrying around a sick bag just watching other people being in love and in all honesty happy. I hate it. And yet at the same time I want to join in and share in that love although it is frowned upon to just pull up a chair to a couple on a date in a restaurant (Not from experience of course!) It is such a bitter/sweet moment. The fact is that whilst I had purchased slushy and somewhat crude Valentine's card's for Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee; I had also purchased, signed, sealed and delivered such a card for a certain someone. I shall not name names but I have been told off by many friends of mine for sending such a thing and to never do it again. Yes, that might not have been the most cleverest of things to do but I thought nothing of it and if I'm honest; hoped it would patch up some holes.
Friday night after finishing work I headed home and packed a bag for the weekend. Not only was I indulging in a night in with my Miss Tweedle-Dee but I was also meeting with Miss Cupcake who is getting married in several months. Miss Cupcake has asked me to be the photographer for her wedding as mentioned last week and we had finally put aside some time in our busy schedule's to walk around the grounds in which the soon-to-be-weds intend to take their vows. Looking outside however hearing the rain start to drizzle down my quaint windows I felt that this may not be the weather for a half-hour walk to the train station. But I couldn't leave it as knowing England the rain could go on for days. Braving the cold, wet droplets I headed for the station only to get there colder and wetter than when I first started out. I was now frustrated and annoyed and just wanted to be warm and cuddly. And the mood did not improve when I got to the other end. I boarded the wrong bus which stopped half way and chucked me out in the middle of where I grew up (A place I despise with a passion). A typically deprived 'chav'-area and despite living there for the longest period in my life I had not taken on the appearance of a common resident around those parts. A life filled with 'Jeremy Kyle' and the occasional spliff, lounging in bed all day with the only reasons to get up is either going to sign on, feeding one of your nine children (all by different fathers) or maybe a trip to the local shops to steal stuff in your Primark ugg boots and pyjamas, or if your lucky a velour tracksuit! Yes I did not miss my hometown.
Angrily cursing under my breath I huffed into the freezing air. Aggravated I punched in the numbers of a local cab company I knew of. As it dialled through I thought about how unsatisfying it is to just press a screen when you are mad. Long gone are the days where you could push down so hard of buttons they would catch under the plastic handset or snap shut that person on the other end of the line. In good time (But not good enough given my foul mood) the cab arrived and I was soon en route to Miss Tweedle-Dee's humble abode. As soon as I arrived I hopped straight in the shower, warming my bones that had chilled in the weather. Walking out into the warmness of her home I noticed Miss Tweedle-Dee had brought out her guitar. Feeling more of an improvement now I had arrived at my final destination and knowing the tune she was strumming away to I joined in with the chorus and thus commenced our Valentine's night. The remainder was just as I had hoped for. Girly chit-chat, Youtube videos, takeaway food and a horror film. I think it was one of the best Valentine's Days I have ever had, regardless if Miss Tweedle-Dee pre-booked me over a year in advance. I hope maybe next year I can do the same - With or without a boyfriend!
Who knows what next year may bring. The next twelve-months will be an exciting journey I shall share with you all once more again. The highs, the lows. The Mr.'s and the Miss'. Maybe this time next year I shall with with someone, or maybe just the same old loon still partying as she enters her twenty-fourth year of life! Regardless I know I'll have a whale of a time (maybe because I was called one on a beach sometime! Sad face). This week I have a flat to fix-up, a house-warming to prepare for and a date with someone who shall be named before encountered - Mr. Minigolf!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 27 January 2014
A Greek Tragedy
Hi,
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Royalty, Romance and Relationships
Hello,
Well firstly thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. Weather it was birthday messages or spending quality time with the Queen herself (Me!) and I would just like to tell you all how appreciated it was to have you share my day. So much better than last year. Now all that soppiness is over and done with there is pressing matters to be dealt with and much gossip that must be told so on with the show!
As the sun set on the evening of my twenty-second year on this planet and with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweeedle-Dee and Miss Stuu close behind I strut my stuff down the wobbly pavements of town . I could see him. Fluffy, Beatles hair cut, jeans and a smart blazer. Mr. Cheese was waiting for me and my entourage. Just as I finished the introductions Miss Chocolate arrived from parking the car and again the meet and greet began. Nausea taking a hold of me, we made our way into the restaurant and sat down. Softly touching my thigh Mr. Cheese lent over as everyone was busy reading their menu's and shuffled a envelope towards my pile of presents and cards my friends had bestowed upon me. Whispering in my ear he told me that I would have my presents on Sunday when he planned to take me on a surprise day out somewhere special. Lightly and swiftly kissing me on the cheek he turned to his menu too. Think he had got away with a cheeky peck in front of my friends I smiled to myself, but everyone had seen I was sure. After ordering food came the presents. Cards first and I saved Mr. Cheese's for last. Not expecting anything at all I opened the card and read some sweet verse and then the sign off. Love! Mr. Cheese signed my card with love. Yeah, I totally didn't read into that too much! Not ...
Once the presents were unwrapped and I discovered the Tweedle's had bought me some make-up and an Ice-Cream Maker and Miss Chocolate a muffin stand the conversation swiftly moved to deeper waters. As the girls interacted with him he seemed at ease discussing with them anecdotes of school life and sharing stories of when we were all younger. In between conversing about topical subjects I would catch Mr. Cheese looking at me so fondly I started to melt. Glancing over I could see in his eyes that maybe. No, defiantly this was the start of something special and romantic. Talk continued but I could tell with the looks that everyone else was giving me around the table, I wasn't the only one to notice Mr. Cheese's admiring stares. So much fun was had it was soon realised that we had spent nearly three hours in the restaurant. As it was midweek I suggested that we all made a move.
After waving goodbye to Miss Chocolate we all bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's new car called Christian and headed back to my place. Trundling upstairs with all my presents I was glad to be home and whilst Mr. Cheese, Miss Stuu and I giggling at photo's on my wall I heard singing coming from the hallway when all of a sudden I was presented with a massive chocolate cake (think along the lines of the film 'Matilda' and you'll be on the right tracks) with two candles in the middle saying twenty-two. It was all too much. Mr. Cheese, the Girls, the nice meal, the presents and the memoirs of just twelve months ago was all so emotional that I nearly cried. I didn't but I welled up alot. After that episode everyone left me and Mr. Cheese, on the homeward bound after a long night I could understand why they wanted their beds. I did too. But for other reasons ...
After a few quiet and very tiring days in my new job I was looking forward to the weekend although I knew it would be busy. Finally Saturday arrived and it was time to get my party on! Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Pea (a friend of the Tweedle's and mine) and Miss Stuu all arrived and as the sun went down the bottle came up. Playing drinking games with a pack of 1970's style porn cards and taking shots in between doing hair, make-up and getting dressed was what a standard night out began with.
Arriving at the Town Centre we headed straight for a local bar and then onto a Club. The atmosphere was hot and sticky but I was already a little bit drunk and so was looking forward to more drinks with my posse. Grabbing some drinks from the bar we headed to the dance floor where me and the others broke out the moves. On the man scale, Bedford wasn't awful, but it wasn't no cock-celebration either. Although Me and Miss Stuu didn't seem to mind when we were standing on the platform in the middle of the floor surrounded by men just jumping and dancing to club anthems whilst holding onto each other for dear life in case one of us got swept away by the sea of testosterone. Everything was going so well. There was dancing and singing and Miss Tweedle-Dee even had some stick-on moustaches to make our night extra memorable. That was until the Disc-Jockey reminded me of how different it could have all been.
A song. But not just any old song. It was mine and Mr. Workaholic's song. The one we first danced to. The one we promised to slow dance at our wedding to. The one we said we would sing lullabies to our children with. Our song. So there I was as the first few strum's of the guitar rang out across the club I looked up to the ceiling. I felt someone grab my hand and squeeze it hard as hot, painful tears spilled out over my cheeks. I looked down to see the concerned faces of my best friends. shouting at me not to cry I wiped my tears and sang along as my heart began splinter. In those few minutes that seemed like a lifetime I was reminded just how far I had come since then and how much better and stronger I am for it. Fuck him! Yeah! Fuck you Mr. Workaholic! Go eat a rattle-snake!
Falling into bed at 4.30am after a heavy night of partying and drinking with friends I drifted off to sleep between the Tweedles in my king-size bed knowing that in a matter of hours I would be in the company of Mr. Cheese. Although waking in the morning was another thing. It looked as though someone had thrown a grenade into my flat and shut the door! Safe to say that the clean up operation took sometime, but with many hands making light work it was soon spick and span. Once I had confirmation that Mr. Cheese was en-route to mine everyone scarpered except Miss Tweedle-Dumb who stopped to collect her things at a more leisurely pace which I liked. Secretly I think she wanted to see what I had got from Mr. Cheese for my birthday. Well she didn't have long to wait as I had barely put the washing on before the doorbell rang. Answering it I was thrust a massive bunch of blue, white and red flowers including roses and my favorite - Gerbera's! Shocked I took him and the flowers straight upstairs and let him meet Miss Tweedle-Dumb again before she left for her own Boyfriend's.
After waffling for a couple of hours I opened the rest of my presents from Mr. Cheese - A beautiful Butterfly necklace (Ironically picked because of the connotations surrounding our first date) and some trinkets for my house including a romantic candle. We decided to head out into the blisteringly hot weather and have a picnic. And boy does this one know how to do picnic's. Reducing my attempts at a picnic a few weeks ago in London, Mr. Cheese pulls from the boot of his car a proper woollen blanket, fully embroidered with sheep and a Fortnum and Mason picnic hamper basket complete with cutlery and plates. Refreshments consisted of fruit, handmade sandwiches, homegrown salad, cake, juice, crisps, scotch eggs and sausage rolls. To wash it all down he provided me with a special bottle of bubbly. Romance level: Expert!
Once we had nearly died from heat-stroke we headed back to his car and made our way to my secret day out. Where too? A local Safari Park where we basically drove around looking at endangered and rare wild animals thinking out loud and discussing what they would taste like. We established that Rhino would taste nice and Ostriches would make me a nice handbag. By the time we got to the monkey's we were full on kitting ourselves our a whole wardrobe and as one primate placed himself in prime position on the windshield of the car we agreed that it would make at least one pair of slippers - Finished off with a Monkey bobble head for the toes. And before all you PETA and RSPCA guys jump on your band-wagon, don't get anal about it, we were having fun. I would never hurt a fly let alone a furry thing! Although just as a discretionary note; I have eaten Ostrich and Kangaroo. Both were very tasty!
The rest of Sunday was spent walking around the small foot-zoo making animal noises and gazing into each others eyes with only admiration. The evening was not an early one as hoped for but was laid back and as romantic as one could wish for. Finally though it seems after having a blissful week and somewhat talking to Mr, Cheese about how many questions I had, I feel that although not all of them are fully satisfied, I know that the majority of them are answered fully and can now be put to bed. Although a few questions still remain I know that in time they will be solved.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Well firstly thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. Weather it was birthday messages or spending quality time with the Queen herself (Me!) and I would just like to tell you all how appreciated it was to have you share my day. So much better than last year. Now all that soppiness is over and done with there is pressing matters to be dealt with and much gossip that must be told so on with the show!
As the sun set on the evening of my twenty-second year on this planet and with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweeedle-Dee and Miss Stuu close behind I strut my stuff down the wobbly pavements of town . I could see him. Fluffy, Beatles hair cut, jeans and a smart blazer. Mr. Cheese was waiting for me and my entourage. Just as I finished the introductions Miss Chocolate arrived from parking the car and again the meet and greet began. Nausea taking a hold of me, we made our way into the restaurant and sat down. Softly touching my thigh Mr. Cheese lent over as everyone was busy reading their menu's and shuffled a envelope towards my pile of presents and cards my friends had bestowed upon me. Whispering in my ear he told me that I would have my presents on Sunday when he planned to take me on a surprise day out somewhere special. Lightly and swiftly kissing me on the cheek he turned to his menu too. Think he had got away with a cheeky peck in front of my friends I smiled to myself, but everyone had seen I was sure. After ordering food came the presents. Cards first and I saved Mr. Cheese's for last. Not expecting anything at all I opened the card and read some sweet verse and then the sign off. Love! Mr. Cheese signed my card with love. Yeah, I totally didn't read into that too much! Not ...
Once the presents were unwrapped and I discovered the Tweedle's had bought me some make-up and an Ice-Cream Maker and Miss Chocolate a muffin stand the conversation swiftly moved to deeper waters. As the girls interacted with him he seemed at ease discussing with them anecdotes of school life and sharing stories of when we were all younger. In between conversing about topical subjects I would catch Mr. Cheese looking at me so fondly I started to melt. Glancing over I could see in his eyes that maybe. No, defiantly this was the start of something special and romantic. Talk continued but I could tell with the looks that everyone else was giving me around the table, I wasn't the only one to notice Mr. Cheese's admiring stares. So much fun was had it was soon realised that we had spent nearly three hours in the restaurant. As it was midweek I suggested that we all made a move.
After waving goodbye to Miss Chocolate we all bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's new car called Christian and headed back to my place. Trundling upstairs with all my presents I was glad to be home and whilst Mr. Cheese, Miss Stuu and I giggling at photo's on my wall I heard singing coming from the hallway when all of a sudden I was presented with a massive chocolate cake (think along the lines of the film 'Matilda' and you'll be on the right tracks) with two candles in the middle saying twenty-two. It was all too much. Mr. Cheese, the Girls, the nice meal, the presents and the memoirs of just twelve months ago was all so emotional that I nearly cried. I didn't but I welled up alot. After that episode everyone left me and Mr. Cheese, on the homeward bound after a long night I could understand why they wanted their beds. I did too. But for other reasons ...
After a few quiet and very tiring days in my new job I was looking forward to the weekend although I knew it would be busy. Finally Saturday arrived and it was time to get my party on! Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Pea (a friend of the Tweedle's and mine) and Miss Stuu all arrived and as the sun went down the bottle came up. Playing drinking games with a pack of 1970's style porn cards and taking shots in between doing hair, make-up and getting dressed was what a standard night out began with.
Arriving at the Town Centre we headed straight for a local bar and then onto a Club. The atmosphere was hot and sticky but I was already a little bit drunk and so was looking forward to more drinks with my posse. Grabbing some drinks from the bar we headed to the dance floor where me and the others broke out the moves. On the man scale, Bedford wasn't awful, but it wasn't no cock-celebration either. Although Me and Miss Stuu didn't seem to mind when we were standing on the platform in the middle of the floor surrounded by men just jumping and dancing to club anthems whilst holding onto each other for dear life in case one of us got swept away by the sea of testosterone. Everything was going so well. There was dancing and singing and Miss Tweedle-Dee even had some stick-on moustaches to make our night extra memorable. That was until the Disc-Jockey reminded me of how different it could have all been.
A song. But not just any old song. It was mine and Mr. Workaholic's song. The one we first danced to. The one we promised to slow dance at our wedding to. The one we said we would sing lullabies to our children with. Our song. So there I was as the first few strum's of the guitar rang out across the club I looked up to the ceiling. I felt someone grab my hand and squeeze it hard as hot, painful tears spilled out over my cheeks. I looked down to see the concerned faces of my best friends. shouting at me not to cry I wiped my tears and sang along as my heart began splinter. In those few minutes that seemed like a lifetime I was reminded just how far I had come since then and how much better and stronger I am for it. Fuck him! Yeah! Fuck you Mr. Workaholic! Go eat a rattle-snake!
Falling into bed at 4.30am after a heavy night of partying and drinking with friends I drifted off to sleep between the Tweedles in my king-size bed knowing that in a matter of hours I would be in the company of Mr. Cheese. Although waking in the morning was another thing. It looked as though someone had thrown a grenade into my flat and shut the door! Safe to say that the clean up operation took sometime, but with many hands making light work it was soon spick and span. Once I had confirmation that Mr. Cheese was en-route to mine everyone scarpered except Miss Tweedle-Dumb who stopped to collect her things at a more leisurely pace which I liked. Secretly I think she wanted to see what I had got from Mr. Cheese for my birthday. Well she didn't have long to wait as I had barely put the washing on before the doorbell rang. Answering it I was thrust a massive bunch of blue, white and red flowers including roses and my favorite - Gerbera's! Shocked I took him and the flowers straight upstairs and let him meet Miss Tweedle-Dumb again before she left for her own Boyfriend's.
After waffling for a couple of hours I opened the rest of my presents from Mr. Cheese - A beautiful Butterfly necklace (Ironically picked because of the connotations surrounding our first date) and some trinkets for my house including a romantic candle. We decided to head out into the blisteringly hot weather and have a picnic. And boy does this one know how to do picnic's. Reducing my attempts at a picnic a few weeks ago in London, Mr. Cheese pulls from the boot of his car a proper woollen blanket, fully embroidered with sheep and a Fortnum and Mason picnic hamper basket complete with cutlery and plates. Refreshments consisted of fruit, handmade sandwiches, homegrown salad, cake, juice, crisps, scotch eggs and sausage rolls. To wash it all down he provided me with a special bottle of bubbly. Romance level: Expert!
Once we had nearly died from heat-stroke we headed back to his car and made our way to my secret day out. Where too? A local Safari Park where we basically drove around looking at endangered and rare wild animals thinking out loud and discussing what they would taste like. We established that Rhino would taste nice and Ostriches would make me a nice handbag. By the time we got to the monkey's we were full on kitting ourselves our a whole wardrobe and as one primate placed himself in prime position on the windshield of the car we agreed that it would make at least one pair of slippers - Finished off with a Monkey bobble head for the toes. And before all you PETA and RSPCA guys jump on your band-wagon, don't get anal about it, we were having fun. I would never hurt a fly let alone a furry thing! Although just as a discretionary note; I have eaten Ostrich and Kangaroo. Both were very tasty!
The rest of Sunday was spent walking around the small foot-zoo making animal noises and gazing into each others eyes with only admiration. The evening was not an early one as hoped for but was laid back and as romantic as one could wish for. Finally though it seems after having a blissful week and somewhat talking to Mr, Cheese about how many questions I had, I feel that although not all of them are fully satisfied, I know that the majority of them are answered fully and can now be put to bed. Although a few questions still remain I know that in time they will be solved.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
And So The Battle Commences ...
Morning All,
So I am writing this earlier than usually. Quite simply two reasons. One - I am convinced that my neighbours are having sex which depresses me in so many ways as I feel that I have been now celibate for at least eight months now and that I could practically join a nunnery and become god's 'Lady in Waiting'. And number two is a dilemma which I can only see getting more and more difficult as time progresses. Firstly though before I go on I should probably start from the beginning. Yes. That would help ...
So last week was all about getting settled in and preparing for the enormous weekend ahead. Unfortunately Miss Chocolate was ill so all Friday frolics were postponed until further notice. I did however end up spending the night with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her room watching an old comedy film. It was suggested that after we would play a game of 'gay chicken' although I am still unsure fully of what it is all about I am pretty adamant I would win! Saturday afternoon was spent trawling round a shopping mall darting from store to store praying that Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would find something suitable and in our size for the Wrap Party in London later on in the evening. It had been decided early on in the week that we would just get the train home after the party. I mean its not like anything fun would happen right? Wrong ...
After frantically spending more time than originally thought getting ready and as usual I was running late, both me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb made it to the station just in time to catch the fast train. Sipping on cocktails on the way down I knew that it was going to be good night. I was looking forward to seeing all the fresh faces and enjoying the atmosphere of a high-end City bar. Upon arrival, Me and the lone Tweedle wandered to the starting Piccadilly nightclub swishing past all the people queued up and stating that my name was on the guest list I felt like a star - Even if it was for lemons, milk and mould! Shyly climbing the stairs in my sparkly golden heels I reached the top and saw it was packed out. I noticed a few faces at the bar and after having to take out a mortgage and three loans to pay for my one singular drink of the evening there I headed to find the host.
A special area had been made up specifically for the shows wrap party and I began to clock more and more faces, a few in particular I took a liking too. Soon I was mingling with the best of them and some real gems as far as people go. Then the chaos began and we headed for the next club up the road in posh Mayfair, London. Off the heels came and on went the flats to make the ten-minute commute to the next venue of choice, headed up by me and only a mapping application on my phone. Once in the chic, cosmopolitan bar I wondered where the men I had my eyes on had got too. Turning my attention back to conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb I could tell that whilst the night was barely getting started for me, it would very shortly be over before it had even started properly.
Descending the stairs to a smokey, seedy dance floor I was excited and enthralled by the atmosphere. granted I did feel that a sardine would have more room to move than I did at that time, but I was caught in the moment and loving every moment of it; Especially since I knew we would have to leave soon, being the last trains and all. Just before I went home though something spectacular happened! So on the dance floor was I and so was the rest of the cast and plus-ones, and after being force-fed expensive Vodka by a fetching man I headed for the exit, already well aware that Miss Tweedle-Dumb would not approve of us missing our train home, nor at the fact I had left her by herself whilst I said goodbye. But as I stepped down from the stage, and before I waded through the crowd an arm stretched out in front of me. Taking the mysterious hand although knowing whom it belonged to I fell into his arms. Now I shall not kiss and tell (and you can all take that comment on complete face value as it is true, we did have a cheeky one) but what a wonderful man I met. Now, you guys all know how I feel about accent's and this one is stunning. They are so important! Enough said although I refuse to reveal anymore as this might be en-route to somewhere since we have been in contact since.
Sunday was a lazy day. The morning was spent sleeping since me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't arrive back home until four-in-the-morning. Another rushed Get-out-of-bed routine though as I realized I had less than an hour to prepare for my date with the now known Mr. Cheese. The afternoon itself was laid-back and relaxed. As planned we bought some vintage cheese and ate this in a quiet beer garden with cider and conversation as fuel for our fire. We had been chatting most evenings in the week and had finally decided to meet each other at two O'clock on Sunday afternoon, although this is where I had made a slight mistake in terms of location. You see in Bedford there is a river and on this river there are many bridges one of which they call - The Butterfly Bridge. A romantic symbol some may say, especially for a man. Something that makes you wonder why would a man choose that to be the location for meeting a date. Regardless of the philosophy behind the statement that was in itself perfectly unscripted, it does still not undermine the fact that I still managed to go to the wrong bridge. In typical 'Moi' fashion I had gone to the wrong bridge. So as ten past two arrived I came to realise that not only did I research into what the romanticised Butterfly Bridge looked like, but I also had my back to it the entire time. An omen maybe for me and Mr. Cheese?
Sunday afternoon ended as my Saturday night had as well - with a kiss. So impromptu and uninhibited Mr.Cheese swooped in whilst I was explaining something probably mundane and kissed me soft on the lips. Nothing special and no full on make-out sesh here. Just simple, sweet, innocent kisses. So very awkward as this isn't something I would usually consent to on a first date but when the arm slinks around you and there isn't anyone around to see the PDA (a Public Display of Affection - not and actual PDA; That would be weird) you feel inclined to just say yes. It was the same when we departed a sweet kiss goodbye, but not before confirming next Sunday as our second 'Date'!
Oh but yes. Here I am in the reality of my now rush-hour love life. Mr. Cheese and my Mystery man. I like both. But I also like being single. But I also would like to have something more in terms of a relationship. But I want a life outside of one too. I never do make things easy for myself. And I always did say that there will come a time when you wait and wait and wait and then suddenly your numbers are up. But which chips do I cash in? Which one should I gamble on? I know which one I want because I cant stop thinking about it and wondering -but is it the winning ticket?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So I am writing this earlier than usually. Quite simply two reasons. One - I am convinced that my neighbours are having sex which depresses me in so many ways as I feel that I have been now celibate for at least eight months now and that I could practically join a nunnery and become god's 'Lady in Waiting'. And number two is a dilemma which I can only see getting more and more difficult as time progresses. Firstly though before I go on I should probably start from the beginning. Yes. That would help ...
So last week was all about getting settled in and preparing for the enormous weekend ahead. Unfortunately Miss Chocolate was ill so all Friday frolics were postponed until further notice. I did however end up spending the night with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her room watching an old comedy film. It was suggested that after we would play a game of 'gay chicken' although I am still unsure fully of what it is all about I am pretty adamant I would win! Saturday afternoon was spent trawling round a shopping mall darting from store to store praying that Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would find something suitable and in our size for the Wrap Party in London later on in the evening. It had been decided early on in the week that we would just get the train home after the party. I mean its not like anything fun would happen right? Wrong ...
After frantically spending more time than originally thought getting ready and as usual I was running late, both me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb made it to the station just in time to catch the fast train. Sipping on cocktails on the way down I knew that it was going to be good night. I was looking forward to seeing all the fresh faces and enjoying the atmosphere of a high-end City bar. Upon arrival, Me and the lone Tweedle wandered to the starting Piccadilly nightclub swishing past all the people queued up and stating that my name was on the guest list I felt like a star - Even if it was for lemons, milk and mould! Shyly climbing the stairs in my sparkly golden heels I reached the top and saw it was packed out. I noticed a few faces at the bar and after having to take out a mortgage and three loans to pay for my one singular drink of the evening there I headed to find the host.
A special area had been made up specifically for the shows wrap party and I began to clock more and more faces, a few in particular I took a liking too. Soon I was mingling with the best of them and some real gems as far as people go. Then the chaos began and we headed for the next club up the road in posh Mayfair, London. Off the heels came and on went the flats to make the ten-minute commute to the next venue of choice, headed up by me and only a mapping application on my phone. Once in the chic, cosmopolitan bar I wondered where the men I had my eyes on had got too. Turning my attention back to conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb I could tell that whilst the night was barely getting started for me, it would very shortly be over before it had even started properly.
Descending the stairs to a smokey, seedy dance floor I was excited and enthralled by the atmosphere. granted I did feel that a sardine would have more room to move than I did at that time, but I was caught in the moment and loving every moment of it; Especially since I knew we would have to leave soon, being the last trains and all. Just before I went home though something spectacular happened! So on the dance floor was I and so was the rest of the cast and plus-ones, and after being force-fed expensive Vodka by a fetching man I headed for the exit, already well aware that Miss Tweedle-Dumb would not approve of us missing our train home, nor at the fact I had left her by herself whilst I said goodbye. But as I stepped down from the stage, and before I waded through the crowd an arm stretched out in front of me. Taking the mysterious hand although knowing whom it belonged to I fell into his arms. Now I shall not kiss and tell (and you can all take that comment on complete face value as it is true, we did have a cheeky one) but what a wonderful man I met. Now, you guys all know how I feel about accent's and this one is stunning. They are so important! Enough said although I refuse to reveal anymore as this might be en-route to somewhere since we have been in contact since.
Sunday was a lazy day. The morning was spent sleeping since me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't arrive back home until four-in-the-morning. Another rushed Get-out-of-bed routine though as I realized I had less than an hour to prepare for my date with the now known Mr. Cheese. The afternoon itself was laid-back and relaxed. As planned we bought some vintage cheese and ate this in a quiet beer garden with cider and conversation as fuel for our fire. We had been chatting most evenings in the week and had finally decided to meet each other at two O'clock on Sunday afternoon, although this is where I had made a slight mistake in terms of location. You see in Bedford there is a river and on this river there are many bridges one of which they call - The Butterfly Bridge. A romantic symbol some may say, especially for a man. Something that makes you wonder why would a man choose that to be the location for meeting a date. Regardless of the philosophy behind the statement that was in itself perfectly unscripted, it does still not undermine the fact that I still managed to go to the wrong bridge. In typical 'Moi' fashion I had gone to the wrong bridge. So as ten past two arrived I came to realise that not only did I research into what the romanticised Butterfly Bridge looked like, but I also had my back to it the entire time. An omen maybe for me and Mr. Cheese?
Sunday afternoon ended as my Saturday night had as well - with a kiss. So impromptu and uninhibited Mr.Cheese swooped in whilst I was explaining something probably mundane and kissed me soft on the lips. Nothing special and no full on make-out sesh here. Just simple, sweet, innocent kisses. So very awkward as this isn't something I would usually consent to on a first date but when the arm slinks around you and there isn't anyone around to see the PDA (a Public Display of Affection - not and actual PDA; That would be weird) you feel inclined to just say yes. It was the same when we departed a sweet kiss goodbye, but not before confirming next Sunday as our second 'Date'!
Oh but yes. Here I am in the reality of my now rush-hour love life. Mr. Cheese and my Mystery man. I like both. But I also like being single. But I also would like to have something more in terms of a relationship. But I want a life outside of one too. I never do make things easy for myself. And I always did say that there will come a time when you wait and wait and wait and then suddenly your numbers are up. But which chips do I cash in? Which one should I gamble on? I know which one I want because I cant stop thinking about it and wondering -but is it the winning ticket?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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