After the coldest winters come the warmest summers

Hello There, 

Yet again, I sit here and write to you as the sun shines on. Honestly, I am about 30-seconds away from me making myself a gin cocktail and sitting out in the sunshine to write this week. And following on from last week, the positivity and hopefulness continues, if not with a little uncertainty and confusion thrown in. Intrigued? Well, I cannot reveal all at the moment but I have a very interesting decision to make in the next few days, and hopefully by the time next week rolls around everything will have ironed itself out and I can let you in on my big secret plans!

I was hoping that since Prime Minister Boris Johnson's announcement that from Monday 12 April 2021, non-essential retail opens as well as beer gardens, I had hoped that this weekend I would have frequented one. But alas that is saved for this weekend when I get to finally catch up with some old work colleagues from my last job and maybe even Miss Hackney and Miss SugarCoat. I cannot think of anything better than some sunshine on my skin and a cocktail in my hand.

Speaking of which, Holidays?! Are they on the cards for Summer 2021 or not? If so where? and if not then should I book a Staycation instead?! A report by the BBC confirms that whilst all foreign holidays are currently banned, and returning travelers have to quarantine in a pricey airport hotel with no windows, transport Secretary Grant Shapps said: "people in England can start thinking about booking foreign trips again".

There have now been more than 33-million first dose vaccines being handed out and with many more in older generations having had both already. But what does this mean when it comes to jetting off abroad?

One way that will hopefully help travelers in making informed decisions about destinations and where is OK and where is not so OK is the idea of having a simple traffic light system. The BBC report states that details of the new traffic light system for England are expected in early May 2021 where there will be three categories -

Green: Passengers will not need to quarantine on return, but must take a pre-departure test, as well as a PCR test on return

Amber: Travellers will need to quarantine for 10 days, as well as taking a pre-departure test and two PCR tests

Red: Passengers will have to pay for a 10-day stay in a managed quarantine hotel, as well as a pre-departure test and two PCR tests. About 40 countries are on the current "red list"

Where a country is placed will depend on vaccinations, infection rates, how common Covid variants are as well as testing and sequencing capacity. But with so much confusion last year on what and why a country is red-listed, the government are keen to provide peace of mind and clarity as to the scenes last time around with the short notice in changing a countries status meant travelers had mere hours sometimes to pack up and head to the airports, only adding to the panic at resorts all over the world. There will be a "green watchlist", to give people notice if a country is about to move to amber or red.

However with consumer group Which? estimates each PCR test could cost about £120 per person making holidays totally unaffordable for the majority of normal people and members of the travel industry suggesting that holidays and travel will therefore only be for the rich and privileged in society. Some, along with myself, would argue the most affected in society are those on lower incomes and if you have been so lucky to have spent your lock-downs at your second home in Devon with a full range of amenities, a big garden, and room to move freely, then you should probably be considerate to the fact there are people who are maybe more deserving or needy of a break away; nurses, doctors, carers, lorry drivers, supermarket employees and key-workers.

While the earliest possible date for foreign travel was previously given as 17 May 2021 - Timings, destinations, and protocol have not been confirmed and so Thomas-Cooking-It is off the cards, for me at least until we have more clarity. I am itching to get out there into the big wide world and see more of it before I settle down. But with a bucket list of destinations as long as my arm (and probably longer), some upcoming life changes, and yet more sunshine on the horizon, there are just so many things to be positive about and look forward to!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

Remember, if you would like to purchase anything then please feel free to check out my store at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/Wooftys or visit our Instagram @WooftysDogTreats and use "TATOATS21" to get 10% off your first order over £15.00.

This. Sucks. Ass.

Hello everyone, 

Waking up that morning, sunlight just peeking through the blinds I was not looking forward to the day. There was so much to take in and so many new things and experiences it was all a bit much. Dressing in something more presentable than leggings and donning a bra for the first time in like six months, I was as prepared as I was ever going to be. Packing up my lunch, Slimming World books for the after-work entertainment and swimming costume for the Aquafit class after that I was nervous for all that Tuesday had to bring. 

Arriving at the office, feeling like my Mom had dropped me off for my first day of school and hearing Mr Warehouse pull away in the car I knew this was it, but walking through the gates I met a couple of friendly faces and slowly my fear and anxiety started to melt away. It took most of the day though and it felt ever so clunky being back at a desk I haven't been crafting and sticking stuff to. Struggling through my first week being half-and-half-back in the office and at home has been a struggle, but I have enjoyed seeing peoples faces again and missed the human interaction one normal has in an office environment.  

But regardless of the safety measures and socially distanced desks, the virus is still haunting my life and figures from the BBC released today (Monday 14 September 2020) confirm that the number of new cases of coronavirus is continuing to rise fears over a second spike are real. Whilst the figures do not suggest an upward turn for the pandemic, the figures are certainly damning when you look at where we are now and base it on the last six-months, figures for new COVID-19 cases are about the same levels as they were in late-March/early April this year. With coronavirus related deaths in the last 24-hour period were only recorded at just nine, a huge improvement to where we have been as a nation,  Boris Johnson announced that from today the Government’s advice would be changing and that "There are three simple actions we must all do to keep on protecting each other" - Wash hands, wear a mask and keep 2-metres apart. Hands. Face. Space. 

The rules around socialising and meeting up with friends and loved ones have also changed. Now, when seeing friends and family you must not meet in a group of more than 6, indoors or outdoors. This is something which is now against the law and the police will have the powers to enforce these legal limits which could include issuing fines of £100, doubling for further breaches and flouting of rules up to a maximum of £3,200. However, there are exceptions to this where groups can be larger than 6 people including for work, childcare, education, wedding and civil partnership ceremonies and receptions (not that it will benefit us as still up to 30 people including the bridal party) and public place funerals. So it seems for now at least, Mr. Warehouse can breathe easy as I cannot plan any sort of party or social gathering without facing the prospect of a fine. Halloween? Cancelled. My birthday? Semi-Cancelled.  Christmas Dinner? Who fucking knows at this rate but Christmas parties and New Years Eve celebrations are all up for the chop. 

This sucks. All of it sucks ass. So much fucking ass. I hate it. I hate what it has done to my plans and preparations and has put a massive fucking dampener on life and all future bloody plans. I thought, with less than 3-weeks before my planned wedding day I would at least have something to look forward to. A beach holiday somewhere hot where I can complain about the sand in-between my toes and indulge on one too many cocktails made by Alejandro the barman as I look at the clock and wonder where me and my groom and my wedding dress would be doing. 

But no. It looks as though Corona has fucked that one for me too as quarantine rules change so fast now, Mr Warehouse is worried about having to be off work if the rules change whilst we are away. Rules stipulate at the moment that "You will need to self-isolate if you visited or made a transit stop in a country or territory that is not on the travel corridor list in the 14 days before you arrive in England" says Gov.uk. So I suppose I can kiss goodbye to dreamy Greek islands or lush Italian breaks. I'm not going anywhere!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The next sands I feel between my toes ...

Evening, 

And so back down to earth and to the "new normal", or in our instance, just the plain old normal from before, just with the added holiday blues. Last week I wrote to you from our holiday chalet caravan in Newquay. This week I write to you from my desk, or at least what can be called my desk, in my spare room listening to the rain in the background as Mr Warehouse watches some loud twenty-something Youtube Vloggers loudly discussing their sexual exploits and prowess. 

After Monday's visit to Cornwalls pride, Healey's Cyder Farm (and after spending a small fortune on apple juice, cider, chutneys and jams) Tuesday was a more relaxing day out to St. Ives, just a few miles down the north coast of Cornwall. Known for its surf beaches (and I mean isn't everywhere in Cornwall), its art scene is just as prominent. The seafront Tate St Ives gallery has modern art exhibitions focusing on British artists and outside in the harbour isn't any different with many an art shop or small independent gallery. And if the beaches and harbours weren't tickling your fancy you could always take a stroll through the nearby Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. However, Mr Warehouse and I did not nearly get into an argument on the train with a local "Asthmatic" over not wearing a face-covering for nothing (from Monday 15 June 2020 everyone must wear a face covering when travelling by public transport in England - Unless you have a valid exemption certificate of which my fiance had. Me, on the other hand, kept quiet and hoped she wouldn't start on me). 

Oh no. We were stomping down to the jetty to board a vessel that would take us to sea so we could fish. On the website where we (I) booked, StIvesFishingtrips.com, they say that the St Ives bay is by far "your best chance to catch mackerel in the summer months as it is and has been a mackerel hot spot for years" and to be fair to them, that it was. 

As well as mackerel we were expected to also catch other species including Cod, John Dory, Red Gurnard, Scad, Pilchards and Haddock for your tea, or not. Our trip was only 1 hour & 30 minutes in total and once we hit open ocean we didn't have to travel far and were fishing within 5 minutes. As the only full-time fishing boat in St Ives, Mr Warehouse and I expected to be coupled up with maybe one or two other couples, possibly even just ourselves given it was still early days of everything being back up and running after the pandemic, however, with our friendly but firm deckhands we had the best experience of sea fishing. And with a little help and using top of the range rods and reels I was even able to catch something. Although as our bucket filled and my future hubby and I waited for the deckhands to un-hook all of the fish (so no risk of hooks in hands which are very painful as I experienced a little prick from one) I could feel my insides squirm a little as I watched the fish gasp for air and thrash around in their final moments. I can and could understand why some people would not feel comfortable with this and whole-heartedly would be against it altogether, however, with the boat able to take up to 10 passengers I would certainly do it again and almost 100% so with kids in-toe too, moreso to teach them of life and death and the circle of life and where we all come from and that shit. Well, that and free food!

And although we never got to go to Seal Island, just west of town, to see the seal colony, we were greeted when we came back into harbour with a friendly sea-doggo. As we carried our 8 fish out of the harbour (you think that's a lot, we caught over 14 although Mr Warehouse didn't want to being any home so I thought 8 was a compromise) we felt tired and ready for home time. 

Wednesday was a day out for all the family (not that the dogs couldn't have come with us on the boat, they could have, however an inquisitive labrador and rambunctious puppy was the last thing I think anyone needed on board - Maybe next time pups). Land's End. An area of beautiful scenery and cliff faces, Ocean views for days, Lands End Landmark is a headland in western Cornwall, about eight miles west-south-west of Penzance. To the south of it is the English Channel, and to the North, the Celtic Sea. Out to the East is the rest of England and out to the West was the Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, it was a really foggy day and on leaving Newquay I was annoyed I may not see much and it would be a wasted trip, however, on arrival, it seemed pleasant enough. With miles and miles of open land to walk and crags to investigate it would have been perfect a few years ago, but sadly our older pooch just isn't up for walking that far now. But she did manage up to the tea room for a Hot Chocolate and some more photos. It was quite warm to be honest as well, as it had been most the week, overcast but warm. As we sat and admired the beauty I thought about how lucky I was and grateful I am of the dogs, sitting nicely and patiently waiting whilst we finished our beverages, ready for the next adventure, albeit back to the car. 

Thursday we packed up, sadly so but also looking forward to getting home and to our own comfy beds, and after a pit stop to the Newquay Riding Stables at Trenance Stables, a holiday staple now every time I visit Cornwall. Riding out along the River Gannel estuary, sandy mud bog under hoof I felt at ease and wholly relaxed. I wish it could never end, but it had too and as we trotted back into the stables I thanked the staff once again for an incredible experience riding out along the sand dunes and rivers, I just wish our little ones could join us by the hooves, riding out as many hounds and horses have done over the years. 

As lunchtime approached, Mr Warehouse drove us all back to Newquay to dine on fish and chips by the seafront. Looking out over the beach I became emotional. I thought back to the horrible moment I had to drop our Golden Oldie off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back and how I whispered in here ear flaps, soft and blonde, "I promise we will bring you to Newquay one day so you can feel the sand between your toes and run and play on the shoreline." My thoughts then turned to the fact that here we were and that the next time Mr Warehouse and I visited, maybe even to the same bench, it would not be with her at our feet. Swiping away a tear and sharing my last fish and chip scraps between the two pups, I was sad to be leaving but excited too as it meant we were just that little bit closer to our wedding. 

After a short run along the beach and a play in the wet sands it really was time to leave and as we buckled the pair of them into the back seat, boot filled to the brim, Mr Warehouse started our journey home. Six-and-a-bit hours there and just over five-hours back wasn't bad going. For the short term, we will have our fudge and rock, jams and cider, but until we meet again beachy shores. I suppose thinking about it our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Early Morning and A Very Cornish Adventure

Morning, 

1.50am. It was early and I couldn't sleep. It was dark outside and I had only been asleep for a few hours. But it wasn't because of noisy neighbours or COVID induced insomnia, something I have struggled with since mid-lockdown. No. I was up because I was excited and just couldn't sleep. Within a matter of moment my alarm, along with my sleeping beau next to me would go off, alerting us to the time we need to get up and leave - 2am. 

After a quick stop off for petrol, we were off, a flask full of sugary coffee and Pain Au Chocolat and Blueberry muffin to keep us full, we hit the road. Our dogs safely tucked up in the back started to settle more as we headed down the motorway in the darkness of the night. Several months ago in what can only be described as a wet and uneventful January, I wrote New Year, Newquay, and finally, now we were here at that moment. With Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist, one of his favourite places - Newquay.  

Pulling over at a service station just outside Basingstoke I swopped with Mr Warehouse to drive the rest of the way. Two-hours down, only four more to go. Heading into the country lanes from the larger A-roads I knew we would be stopping soon. It was just coming past 5am when we stopped in a little car park in the middle of Dartmoor National Park. A vast moorland in the county of Devon, southwest England, the Dartmoor ponies roam its craggy landscape, defined by forests, rivers, wetlands and rock formations. With its multiple trails that wind through the valleys with Neolithic tombs, Bronze Age stone circles and abandoned medieval farmhouses it is certainly a beautiful landscape. The area is dotted with villages, including Princetown, home to Dartmoor Prison used during the Napoleonic Wars which was where we stopped near for a quick toilet break and walk with the pups. 

The rain soon put a holt to that though and we headed back to the confines of the car. Heading out onto the long and winding roads again we were met with some of the local wildlife including Cows, Ponies and lots of Sheep. After possibly getting lost, and many more hours on the road, much larger than the dirt country lanes and paths we nearly got stuck down, we soon arrived at the Ladyevelyn. Situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort, just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. Obviously, due to the Coronavirus, the normal facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment were all out of action. 

That being said though, our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and dogs were welcome. With what was quoted as a "fully equipped kitchen" I would hardly classify it as such. Granted it came with a microwave and Iron as well as a fireplace, seating area with a sofa and a flat-screen TV it was comfortable and modern, however, there were no bowls just large tapas dishes, the cooker didn't work and most of the lights didn't work either. There was a fridge and a kettle however the coffee machine wasn't anywhere to be seen and there seemed to be a lack of any other amenities - I mean it wouldn't hurt to have a welcome pack including some tea, coffee, sugar and maybe a loaf of bread and some milk. A little gesture that wouldn't cost a lot but would honestly make a world of difference. The private bathroom came with a shower however the hand towels were threadbare and the mirror had rust around the edge.

However as we settled in and had a little snooze, we learnt later on that afternoon walking the dogs that the park is less than a mile to Porth Beach, however, this was not really somewhere we could have walked to easily as there were steep hills and narrow lanes everywhere, and the twenty-minute walk would have killed our eldest pooch who turned thirteen next week. It was our youngest pup was annoyed by the wind and kept barking at it into the ocean wind. As the waves came splashing in they both loved it feeling the sand between their toes and watching them both run and play on the shoreline was honestly memory I shall treasure forever. "I promised we would get you here hun, and now look at you," I said to our Golden Oldie, recalling the horrible moment I had to drop her off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back. 

Our first night was spent watching telly and chomping down on Chinese from the local. Today we visited Healey's Cyder Farm where Mr Warehouse and I explored the Bottlery, Distillery and Cellars full of apple wine, cider, brandy, whiskey and now gin. On their website, the history describes how Kay and David Healey went from turning the key in their first off-license, to bringing a 150-year-old farm back to life. Buying up a 16th century press, planting orchards and turning the fruit from their trees into world-renowned drinks and produce, this is now an award-winning cider farm. 

Overseen by their sons Sam and Joe, the Healeys are a family that’s long been in love with Cornish cyder and their's is the first Cornish distillery in 300 years. For more than 30 years the family’s been living and breathing apples every day which is why it made such a good day out ... and I suppose the free samples helped. Tomorrow's activities are sea fishing for mackerel and Wednesday we are taking a trip out with the dog's to Lands End. It's a shame to think next time I write I will be home!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Change in the wind says I

Morning, 

Collapsing onto my sofa in my newly turned round living room (one of mine and Mr Warehouse's COVID Jobs to do up the house during lockdown) I was exhausted. As I listened and watched my future husband play on his Xbox I faded in and out of of my surroundings, sometimes falling asleep for mere moments and others just zoning out. I was burnt out and the last few weeks had been mental workwise which had lead to the position I was that Tuesday evening last week. 

You see, I had suffered from mental health issues before and with my depression and anxiety around certain things I was able to curb that and knew when it was coming and how the dark black cloud felt. But this was different and it had been building up and up for several weeks. And so after speaking with my doctors, they signed me off with work-related stress for a fortnight. I was shocked to say the least and as I tried to explain to the HR person I felt incredibly guilty, exhausted, stressed, tired and relieved all at the same time as feeling as though I was letting down customers, engineers and staff alike. And so after a brief discussion with my HR department (lady) the company took the decision to place me on furlough instead. 

Financially this would make me better ff as I would be on basically full pay for the fortnight my doctor has advised and should the worst happen whereby either there is not enough work for me to come back to or I am signed off for longer, as before my pay will be at 80% my normal salary (as paid by the government under the Coronavirus Job Retention scheme) rather than the minimal Statutory Sick Pay (SSP) which is approximately £90 per week. This being said however I made it quite clear that I wanted i noted and on file that the issues were as a direct result of work-related stress, something I had been trying to explain and communicate for weeks.   

Nevertheless, the "Free-Time" I have had, albeit a few hours in the day since I still need to drop Mr Warehouse to and from work every day has been nice. So far I have been able to keep up with some gardening, get into the kitchen to bake many a sweet treat including a monster of a white chocolate cheesecake that we are still trying t work our way through, despite giving a third away to Big Brother Warehouse and his brood. 

I am hoping that my time out of the "workplace" or whatever you want to call it can make for some time to craft and DIY. I have acquired my grandmother's old writing bureau and have plans to revamp it with navy chalk paint and golden metalwork to match the living room's luxe gold and dark blue theme. I plan on finishing off the crafts I started but never finished such as my pebble lamp and once I finish that, I plan on starting a few more including upcycling some white trainers into some 101 Dalmatian inspired sneakers and turning some frumpy looking creps into some bedazzling jewelled kicks to wear on the dancefloor once my feet get tired from the heels on my wedding day. And if I get all of that completed I have a long list of other things I want to either get some or at least get on top of for our upcoming nuptials including welcome signs, decor and even one of those fancy Captin Bride Hats I have seen on Pinterest that I refuse to spend £60+ on when I can just use some materials and gems to achieve the boujee look. 

Ideally, I would like to create some built-in shelves in the living room and even wallpaper the downstairs WC, although I think these are mainly weekend jobs for when I have an extra pair of helping hands. It seems as though we are all going to have many more of these bank-holiday-inspired weekends where everyone either does DIY or gardening. It seems as though "New Normal" and anything relatively life-enhancing is still off the books. With figures from the BBC that state that whilst the confirmed new cases of coronavirus in the UK are over 1,500 today alone, the death toll has significantly dropped to just 121 today alone (Monday 25 May 2020). Boris Johnson's statement to the nation several weeks ago gave us all some hope, and confusion plenty. 

I am just praying that we can get away in July and that the restrictions are lifted before 5th July, enabling our little family in the making to head for the beaches and beauty spots of Cornwall, although I fear that we will wither be amongst the disappointed millions, or the very first lucky few. Things are looking hopeful however, with airlines starting up at the beginning of June and July and promises of places like restaurants and cafe's being open beginning of July, I am hoping for the latter.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

New Year - Newquay!

Hello, 

Sunshine hitting my face and my thighs getting warm. Oh, how I missed the feeling of the beach and summer holidays. Normally I would be gearing myself right up for eating out every night, romantic boat trips and cocktail hour all hours, however, this year Mr Warehouse put his foot down and said we would not be going on holiday this year with his words being "we have a wedding to pay for" and whilst this is true, with less than nine months to go I really wanted to beach it up somewhere and enjoy the last holiday on my Passport as a 'Miss'. 

So with Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist me mentioning a holiday to Cornwall. One of his favourite places, we hadn't been back to Newquay since a family wedding several years ago and both of us had missed it ever since. The following year after visiting for said wedding, our Older pooch got poorly with her Pyometra and we promised her as we went to Vet appointment after Vet appointment that we would take her there one day to feel the sand between her paws. Now whilst she has since been to Great Yarmouth and Bournemouth on little holibobs, Newquay holds something special for Mr Warehouse and I both, something we want to share with our fur babies. 

With little resistance, I convinced Mr Warehouse to book off a week and head down to the English Riviera. After much hunting and scouring the web for the best deal, I found the perfect pre-wedding-moon! Boasting a bar and free WiFi, Retallack Resort & Spa was situated in Padstow, just 10 miles from Newquay's beautiful beaches. There is a restaurant serving British cuisine, and free private parking is available. All units at the Spa Hotel Resort came overlooking the gorgeous lakes and grounds and each boasts a kitchen with plenty of amenities including microwave and tea and coffee making facilities. A private bathroom boasts complimentary toiletries and a luxurious soft bed. The seating area and a flat-screen TV are also appreciated by guests staying not to mention the fact that doggies can come too! However, at close to £300 the £40 per dog per stay was a little too steep and instead, we decided to park that property for another visit, choosing to spend a little on a cheap break away and enjoy our Honeymoon more. If only it wasn't a four-odd hour journey that would have been the ideal and perfect place to wake up as a newly-wed. Oh well, I am sure I can make an excuse to make a trip down that way for a stay. 

And so Mr Warehouse and I settled with a stay at the Ladyevelyn situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort. Just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. The Newquay Bay can cater to all of our needs with fantastic facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment. 

Less than a mile to the nearest beach (Porth Beach) our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and puppies can come - Free. Of. Charge. Each static caravan has a fully equipped kitchen with a microwave, a fireplace, a seating area with a sofa, a flat-screen TV and a private bathroom with a shower and a hairdryer. A fridge, an oven and stovetop are also offered, as well as a kettle and a coffee machine. A bicycle rental service is available at the reception and with more beaches to explore including Lusty Glaze and Tolcarne Beach within a few minutes it isn't hard to see why we chose it. 

Finally, I can now visit Bodmin Jail (since we couldn't do that on our last trip), maybe a visit to Lands End and 100% visiting the horse riding place to go galloping across the sands. To think that my little Frankenstein has never experienced sand is going to be entertaining and sweet to watch as well.

The best of both worlds I suppose. One didn't want a holiday, the other wanted a normal beach abroad holibob - A happy medium being a few days in Cornwall, visiting family, eating and drinking out, maybe a sesh and some lovely walks on the beach with our pooches. What could be better?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Swollen and Sun Burnt!

Ola, 

Hearing Mr Warehouse tinkering around in the background of the holiday apartment I knew it was still dark outside. It was the day we returned to the UK and as sad as we were after burning severely on Tuesday and hobbling round Gibraltar on our day excursion my Fiance and I was certainly going to be glad of our home comforts and a few friendly faces. 

Getting up and shuffling to the bathroom, face, legs and back stinging from the waves of hot and cold, I braced myself for my morning pee. That was up until that point relaxing. Until Mr Warehouse broke the morning silence with not a 'Good morning my sweetness' or 'Wakey Wakey my little Paella princess'. No, I was confronted by an awful shriek. 
"You probably shouldn't but you should look in the mirror" Mr Warehouse said, cautiously looking at my face. I was sun burnt I got it. I suppose he thought it would be funny for me to see my red Larry lobster face and how bad I had it, especially since Mr Warehouse's sunburn had come up in blisters and breaking skin around his ankles. 

But as I got up from my seat on the Spanish "throne" I was met by my own gasp of horror. My face was so swollen I could barely see out of my right eye. I tried to open it, try and try as I might it was swollen shut. My whole face had swelled to nearly three times what it normally was for a fat cow like me. Panicked I went to Mr Warehouse, now pottering in the kitchenette, packing things into the suitcase as and when he found them. 
Bursting into tears I crumbled into his arms as I thought about how I would get home. 
"They're not going to let me through passport control!" I wailed, Mr Warehouse consoling me with his big lovable embrace. "I look like Elephant man"

Pulling myself together and calming down I did what I could, took a pill (Paracetamol) and smothered myself in aftersun and Aloe Vera before packing my things up and sorting shit out. We left the apartment in good time to get to the bus stop, but with only a few moments to spare, parking our trip to the 'Farmacia' and I had to settle with a wet muslin cloth and sunglasses to hid my hideous appearance from the locals. 
"I'll be lynched like a beastly mountain leper" I whimpered to Mr Warehouse as we boarded the bus to the airport. 

Arriving at security it was a long line and very busy. Our flight wasn't until midday and already the airport looked rammed to the point of breaking with families, kids and adults with copious amounts of luggage, bags and cases. My face was throbbing and tight from being so inflamed so after getting through to the other side out first port of call was the Pharmacy or somewhere that would sell aftersun, Ibuprofen or anything containing any Aloe or Vera. Nadda. Two Pharmacies and both were before security. Suffering we boarded the plane, nearly an hour late. Landing nearly an hour and thirty minutes late into Luton all I wanted to do was go home. Catching a cab in rush hour over to my Grandparents house we avoided most of the school traffic and after a brief pop in to say hello we headed home, arriving just before dinner time and spending an hour or so with Momma Warehouse, thanking her once again for looking after our pups who we missed dearly before heading to bed, face still swollen. 

The following morning I woke to something much worse. I now could not see out of my right eye at all. My face, still swollen, was worse from my left eyebrow across my forehead and around my eye, all over my cheek and was even impeding my speech now. I was terrified. This was serious. Calling through to the village doctors was about as much help as propping my eye open with a razor blade. I called our emergency number in the UK, the NHS 111 service. NHS 111 can help if you have an urgent medical problem and you’re not sure what to do and is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. After my assessment I was, along with Mr Warehouse and his severely burnt legs and ankles, were told to report to the Accident and Emergency.  

After waiting for an hour we were seen by a Triage nurse who not only briefly assessed us and looked over our complaints with little empathy but then went on to berate us entirely, telling us off and scolding my Fiance and I for not wearing sunscreen, branding us almost stupid and idiotic, as if we didn't need telling. 
"You're both fair. Your should have been wearing sun cream" She laid into us. Yeah because spending several hours in A&E, wearing sunglasses the whole time and with a face the size of North Africa yeah really how I would choose to spend the morning following a holiday in the sunshine. Leaving in tears it was several more hours before we saw a doctor. I was seen first and after an assessment on my skin, facial swelling and eyesight I was sent away and told that the tightness and swell should subside in five-seven days! I return to work in three! Mr Warehouse was the same diagnosis and told to carry on taking a cocktail of Paracetamol, Ibuprofen and the odd Antihistamine to take down the swelling and carry on with the moisturising with Aloe Vera and aftersun. 

It has now been nearly a week since the sunburn and I would say I have nearly fully recovered and my face is still swollen and very much so in the morning when I first wake up, but is getting better, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Safe to say that might b our last holiday for a while ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Deposits And Departure Gates!

Heyy, 

In a few days from now, I will be probably writing from you in the hotel lobby or maybe by the pool of our holiday apartment in the centre of Malaga, Spain. Sipping on cocktails and sunning myself in the warmer weather I will certainly be glad of the break, especially since it has been a couple of years since mine and Mr Warehouse's Tenerife break! What with saving for a house, my mental health issues and every spare penny going towards our new home Mr Warehouse and I decided against a summer break in 2018. That being said it was not exactly planned this year either, what with the wedding less than a year and a half away now I expected to be ploughing every penny we had not only into our new home but also towards the wedding of our dreams. That would have been the case until Mr Warehouse gave me an ultimatum back in the dreary depths of March. "What will you do with the money?"

It all started when we moved out of our little starter flat in Bedford town centre. We had just received our new keys when we had noted that days earlier paid our rent for the next month up until the end of November 2018. 
"Don't suppose you could give us half of it back and we can be out in a fortnight?" I asked my Landlord cheekily. He didn't agree, although I knew he wouldn't. I had, along with my new fiance, a month to move our things out and clean the property ready for the Landlord's new tenants. Clearing most of our stuff in one weekend we made sure to give the flat a good solid three days worth of cleaning, scrubbing every skirting board, every wall, every tile to make sure it was spotless. 

I had been relying on my £400.00 deposit money coming back to me before we had bought a lot of the home stuff we needed and as Christmas approached it would have been nice to maybe go somewhere or just have a more enjoyable festive period, especially after the year Mr Warehouse and I had just battled. And on checking out with the Landlord everything seemed to go swimmingly. There were a few items that needed to be collected and taken care of furniture wise however on returning the keys the Landlord mentioned that the carpet may need changing and he agreed that he would find a few quotes and be in touch with a price so I knew how much of my deposit would be used, something we reluctantly agreed to. As the festivities got underway Mr Warehouse and I was able to even steal a weekend away to Bournemouth with our eldest. Soon enough Christmas arrived as did New Years and without a moments thought I realised it had been well over six weeks and I had still to hear anything from my ex-landlord regarding my deposit and what he thought was appropriate for a carpet that needed replacing waaaay before I moved in. 

I called and called and called but nothing; texting every time I left a voice mail, just in case he was out of the county or not able to answer a call. After several weeks I tried emailing, however the email I had just kept bouncing back. Hell, even Mr Warehouse had gone round to the Flat after work some nights just on the off chance he may be there but still nothing. Clutching at straws at the beginning of January this year I called the estate agents that originally dealt with me in letting the penthouse flat in the same block. They were helpful and put me in contact with the DPS, Deposit Protection Scheme. Since April 2007, a landlord must put the deposit for the property you are renting into a government-backed tenancy deposit scheme (TDP). This gives the landlord or letting agent's assurance that the tenants will meet the terms of the tenancy agreement, not cause damage to the property and pay the rent/bills. 

Finding out where my deposit was the first thing, next was trying to get it back. I found out, again through the helpful lettings agent, that my landlord must have returned my deposit within 10 days of us both agreeing how much you’ll get back. Since it was January and I had heard absolutely nothing since I handed back my keys there was only one thing left to do - Raise a dispute. I was told it would be pretty easy since it was clear that I had made every effort to try any other means of getting this resolved and had the texts and phone calls to prove it. And so I put pen to paper (well fingers to keyboard really) and filled in the online application form with ease. A few days later I had a response and was told that the Landlord / Agent would have a right of reply and that this would be allowed up until the beginning of February, three-weeks away. Should what I thought the inevitable would be and that there was no response from the Landlord then the DPS would look in favour to the tenant and in most cases award the full amount back to me. I was anxious but confident I had done everything I could. 

Within a day or two of logging a deposit dispute, I had a text from my ex-landlord, asking if we could meet at the property the following day to discuss the deposit issue and collect the "piles of post that was building up". I explained that the following day was not convenient and since I had been trying to get ahold of him for months now that he would have to wait until the weekend when Mr Warehouse and I would be free. I never heard back. 
Friday afternoon of that week came and I received another text message asking about the time Mr Warehouse and I would be meeting my ex-landlord at the property. I explained that since I had not had confirmation that I had assumed it was inconvenient and had made other plans for the weekend. I had instead agreed that I could meet him at the property, along with my fiance after work that day but that we needed to be finished by a certain time as we had somewhere to be, a lie but I didn't want to be waiting around for hours. 

Incidentally, on arriving at the flat, rushing there from work in 4pm traffic, my ex-landlord still did not show up for a further forty-minutes, only to arrive and announce he had forgotten the keys so needed to return home to fetch them, delaying the meet by a further half hour or so. During which time I took a look through the windows of my once precious abode. I was horrified to see that in the darkness of that January evening my ex-landlord had completely decked out my old gaff with new carpets and even painted the walls. Terrified he was going to try and charge me all of this, I thought it best to call the TDS and get some advice on how best to proceed, considering I had already filed a dispute. They explained that despite the ex-landlord fully fitting the flat out he would not be able to put that charge to me, even if they were cashmere carpets and golden paint (of which they were certainly not)! 

It was at this point that I also found out to my shock that legally my ex-landlord could not ask for any of the deposit to be used on the downstairs flat. You see, when I first moved into the block I rented the top floor 1-bedroom apartment and loved every moment of it. I paid a £400.00 deposit and then a year or so later when the ground floor property came up for rent I initiated a conversation to my Landlord and asked if I could have the first refusal. He agreed and since I had been a good tenant and always paid my rent on time with never any issues he agreed that the deposit for the penthouse apartment would simply be used for the ground floor one and so nothing more was said. Although that had not been the case as the Landlord have never moved the deposits over and for the sake of a letter at the end of the numerals (I moved from A to B), there was nothing he could do. 

And so as the van pulled into our old street again for the second time that evening I was relieved to know I had the upper hand and that every penny of that £400.00 I scrimped together for back in 2013 was coming back to me one way or another. A snotty and rather uncomfortable chat with the ex-landlord ensued, something in which I sound recorded on my phone simply for evidence should I have needed it. He accused Mr Warehouse and I of not cleaning the flat and leaving it in a "diabolical state" claiming that there were holes left in walls, paint jobs messy (from the tenant before me I must add) and that the carpets were threadbare and in need of replacement since they smelt like dog and were damaged. Offended I explained about how difficult it was to get hold of him and he brushed it off stating that it was "no excuse for how you left it". Some bully tactics took place and at one point he asked us about coming back to clean the oven, which in all fairness we had forgotten totally about until he brought it up. 
"Well," I started, knowing I was fully going to fucking win this. "Considering we had not been able to reach you for several weeks that had turned into months, I was not wholly confident you were going to turn up this evening and even then I was not sure what to expect so, therefore, have not come equipped with any cleaning tools, however, if you would like both of us to come back at a later date and clean this and anything else we would be more than happy to do so." I finished. This caught him off guard completely and maybe expected me to roll over and just agree to be billed. It was at this point he made some excuse about not wanting the hassle and that he would just arrange it himself. On getting down to the crunch however my ex-landlord reeled off the long list of thing we had left for him to clear and clean up, mainly redecorating works which needed to be done really in order for the property to be let again in a reasonable state. 

"I have had to pay out over £400.00 for the work I have done here and I would say I am being fair in only asking for half of it back from your deposit? Don't you agree?" the ex-landlord ushered to Mr Warehouse. My fiance, big and strong, chest puffed out like a peacock stood his ground and reiterated what I had said time and time again stating that this was out of our hands and that it was going through a deposit dispute with the TDS. 
"Well, we only have to tell them what we want them to know," the ex-landlord said slimily trying to claw back some money from his crappy paint job and cheap carpet. 
"Besides, who are they more likely to believe?" he ended. Then, awkward silence. 
"We need to think about it" I ended the long period of silence with explaining it was now a joint decision and that I needed to discuss it with my new fiance and come back to him knowing full well I wouldn't and would eventually walk away with my money, rightfully mine. 

And true to that, I did. A few weeks later I received an email in my inbox stating that despite timeline and numerous attempts to contact the Landlord /Agent even past the cut-off date for a right of reply, I was being awarded my full deposit back to me. The money landed in my account within a few hours. A couple of days after the TDS settled the claim I received a call from my ex-landlord. I was in the hairdresser's chair so could have answered but in any instance, I would have been at work and so screened the call. I listened to the polite and slightly sinister voice mail, demanding I contact him as a matter of urgency regarding the "damage" to his property and to discuss the "deposit issue" suffice to say that I did not return his call. Instead, I blocked his number and booked a holiday! Malaga here we come!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

More Missing Minutes of a Different Kind

Hello, 

So it's got to that point of the year again where I am constantly bombarded by people telling me about their holidays or their upcoming beach bargain breaks. To say that I am jealous would be a major understatement. Tenerife, Majorca, Lanzarote and Bulgaria the list goes on. I know in my heart of hearts that the four-hundred quid sat in my savings account should really be used towards our house fund, deposit or redecorating and not a holiday. Ugggh but its so hard! When everyone else is choosing which flip-flops to pack or which bikini will go with which Snapchat filter, here I am trying to work out how many stick-on tiles I can buy for under a tenner to do the kitchen and why Ronseal is so expensive. And after the last few weeks of collecting bits and pieces for the house and redecorating I was ready to start. No Weddings. No Funerals. Well, nearly ... 

Relaxing on a Friday evening, I was having one of those rare moments to myself. Mr. Warehouse had gone to visit his brother in a small village outside of Bedford after work and was staying there to play a few games of pool before coming home. I didn't think anything of the phone call I've picked up whilst putting the TV on pause. I expected some sorry reason as to why he was going to be late home or maybe even the fact that he wanted me to picking up as he had been drinking. No. None of the above. The words 'Don't Panic' are never a good phrase to start off with when you ride a motorbike and were expected home ten minutes ago. To be honest I had been awaiting this moment for a while now. I thought that I would have been much more in a panic or a bit of a flap about it all, but an odd sense of calm came over me and I just thought "Oh for goodness sake what have you done now?"

After leaving his brothers around about 7.30pm and with plenty of time to get home before it was dark, Mr Warehouse whizzed off down the road from Village to Village as he normally did and had done many a time before. Only this time was different. Coming round a bend and over a humped railway bridge, Mr. Warehouse lost control of the motorbike beneath him, skidding and crashing into a road sign. Successfully taking that out my boyfriend flew for a further twenty or thirty meters before hitting a tree. Knocked unconscious, Mr. Warehouse only came round when he heard the sound of a cars engine, a door slamming shut and a women running towards him, asking if he was OK. "No love, just thought I would have a little nap face down in a pile of stinging nettles with my bike on its side and still running" was what my gorgeous boy wanted to tell her, but Mr. Warehouse said to me that he just thanked her for her time and for stopping, but said that he would be OK in a few moments and not to call for anyone. 

Accepting by this point that he was on his feet and seemingly talking OK, the woman left the scene in a rush to wherever she was heading. About five minutes later I received the dreaded phone call. I knew that it was Mr Warehouse as soon as he spoke and this relieved me a little bit that he was clearly well enough to talk and it wasn't a police officer or paramedic. I think I would have freaked more. Calmly and as collectively as possible I continued to keep him talking asking all manner of questions about what had happened and where he was in relation to his surroundings. But being a typical man he brushed it all off, dusted himself down, got back on the bike and drove home. 

After the phone call ended I called his brother immediately asking him to whizz round the corner a couple of minutes and see if he was still there. Unfortunately he wasn't and by that time Mr Warehouse had driven off leaving a few chunks of plastic and debris in his wake. I promised to update Big-Brother Warehouse about how he was when he got in and to check if we need to go to accident and emergency. About twenty minutes later and with the sun now setting I heard a bike rolling through the quiet streets. Undressing my boyfriend and making sure that he was OK I could see that he was well within the grips of shock. Tongue was white as a ghost and he was waiting up and down the front room checking every inch of his body for scratches or bruising. 

Sitting him down I make sure to contact his family including his brothers and his mother, and all whilst I made sure he missed a good strong and sugary cup of tea. Us British eh?! Thankfully he was alright in terms of no cuts or bruising just a couple of light cat scratches from bushes and a couple of rashers from where he woke up in some stinging nettles. I was probably more concerned at the fact that he was now shaking and saying that he was cold, not to mention a large headache as well as pain in his hand, wrist and lower back. Yet again I said to him that we should probably go to A&E as he had been involved in a major bike accident not only that but he has fuzzy memory about what exactly happened and thinks he may have been knocked unconscious. Mr. Warehouse wasn't having any of it though. 

After a brief heated discussion and a talk with his mother, Mr Warehouse and I came to a compromise that we would call the 111 service setup for the NHS. After going through numerous questions and answering yes, no and explaining what had happened in general the operator had decided with her superiors that a ambulance should be sent on its way just to be sure. Ambulance arriving it couldn't have been quicker or at a more convenient time as Mr Warehouse was going into full blown shock mode, suffering from chills and hot sweats as well as feeling nauseous. But disaster was not over yet as I had to get the dog out of the way of the paramedics in order for them to do their job. As I went to go and grab Pooch's collar, she told hard and I felt harder which only meant one thing for my nail that was holding on as tightly as possible. SNAP!

Crying out in agony on the inside I tossed the dog into the bedroom and shut the door behind her cussing at her under my breath. Mary mother of God did it hurt and oh my goodness I thought that I was actually going to be pissing blood from my finger it thumped so hard. As the paramedics did their job well running tests and checking Mr warehouses Obs I was standing there feeling like a lemon and wondering whether I should inform the medical team that I myself had also had an injury - A broken nail. I didn't and after a brief conversation about how to try and stay safe on the road the wonderful medicine Angels left. I suppose that I just have to be thankful that the equipment that Mr. Warehouse was wearing did it's job and potentially saved him from otherwise more serious injuries or potentially even worse. God only knows what the outcome would have been should he have not been wearing his protective jacket, trousers and helmet. So many times across so many different continents and countries I am sure that you all will have seen that idiot on a motorbike driving down the road with nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of shorts on! It just doesn't bare thinking about what could have happened. 

And so Mr Warehouse has spent most of the weekend recovering either on the sofa or in bed. We had a look at the motorcycle itself and it seems as though most of the damage is simply plastic and could easily be replaced or repaired. I think my main concern is whether it drives OK as the alignment seems slightly off and when Mr. Warehouse drove it home he was obviously battling a shock as well as adrenaline coursing through his veins. Hopefully nothing is too expensive as I would ideally like to try and get some things done sooner rather than later in the flat. Who knows maybe it will be this weekend that we finally get round to doing some DIY! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Welcome to Slim-uary!

Hello, 

So as the chill sets in and everyone appears to be battening down the hatches in preparation for bad weather and a lack of social interaction due to the fact that nobody has any money for at least another fortnight or so. And here I am feeling like I have money to burn. The struggle is real and I am starting to wonder why I ever chose to not book a holiday early this year. You see after all my work colleagues had booked last minute holidays, all of them snatching up all the great bargains and good deals, leaving Mr Warehouse and I in a bit of a tizz as to why we have spent nearly seven-hundred quid on such a holiday that was barely worth half that. 

With this in mind, 2018 will probably be our last big holiday until we own a home. This is why I am looking to go on an all expenses extra kind of holiday. Where to you ask but the thing is nobody knows. Well that is until about six to eight weeks before we fly that is. I would like to go somewhere warm and ideally long haul. Maybe America, Mexico, Caribbean or Hawaii? Who knows I may end up in Thailand eating noodles from some back end bar and having to pull Mr. Warehouse away from the Lady-boys! I am sure that where ever and when ever we book it will be magical and something to treasure whilst we save like squirrels for our house. 

With the weather in England as unpredictable as my my hair colour (Blue, pink, orange, red - You name it we've been there) it is far too early to start thinking about summer yet. Now I am sure that you are just as eager as I am, ready and waiting to strip off, ready to hit the beach in a new bikini and have everyone turn to look at you. However the only reason that I think anybody would be looking my way on holiday is to see what a state I was or to clear the road to the buffet cart. 

OK so I may jest a little about my weight and in no uncertain terms and I taking the piss out of people that heavier or larger. You are beautiful each and everyone of you. Your bodies do fantastic things like keep you alive and bore you children. You should appreciate them and all that they do for you. So why am I hear bashing myself about my own weight you may say. Well, that is because I'm not happy with myself in the dress size I am. For what seems like year after year has now started to turn into decade after decade and despite being only in my mid-twenties, I feel like I dress like somebody ten-years older than me. I want to feel beautiful and for people to compliment me for once and actually mean it. 

Rightly or wrongly I know that people, sadly mostly my family, make passing comments about my weight and have done for many years. My family has always been big especially on my father's side and with the recent deterioration of my grandfather and his health, I can only assume that his lifestyle choices will probably be the end of him. And sadly I have no sympathy for him. Don't get me wrong I fully empathise with his situation and following retirement from what was a very active lifestyle jumping in and out of lorries all day he is now fully bed-bound and in need of round the clock care. It is sad and upsetting to see him in this way especially when he has had such a huge influence on my life. We are not very close by any means but that does not mean that I do not care for him very much and it worries me to think that this time next year he may not be with us. 

Maybe this is why I have joined a local gym and started a better and more healthier eating plan. I have signed up to you and been attending personal training sessions for the last few weeks with some astonishing figures that even I did not expect. In the last 6 weeks I have lost over ten-centimetres off my waist along with over seven-centimetres off my hips and sadly one-centimetres off my bust! Sad Face! And I don't want to be down to a size stupid, pottering around with a head bigger than my daily intake of calories and a waist the same circumference as a tangerine (Which by the way I would not able to eat since it was not vegan friendly, gluten free or multivitamin infused). I would however like to enjoy my summer prancing around in the sunshine, wearing a kitsch tea dress and looking as curvy and cute as I did back in college all whilst cramming down a hot-dog or two. 

I want to enjoy my food as well as my figure and wardrobe. I don't really think that I should have to compromise on either in order to have a good time or indeed enjoy life. I would like to say that by the time the annual family fun day at work is in full swing and Mr Warehouse and I are preparing for another year celebrating a pool and darts tournament in aid of his grandfather I would like to be at least one dress size smaller than I am now. Hopefully I can get there however it will probably be quite a lot of hard work, determination and willpower. Now where did I put my kale and avocado smoothie ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx