Blood Makes You Related, Love Makes You A Family

Hello,

Waking up on Saturday morning was probably the most relaxed I think I have had any morning waking up in my new home thus far. The last week or two had been strained to say the least and contributed to me losing my bag a few times with Mr Warehouse. Still in a bit of pain I was dropping him to work and picking him up every day which was starting to grate on me without having any of my own free time. Nevertheless a weekend away from it all and a quick calculation of our first mortgage payment and few bills that are coming in make it look and feel as though things will not be as tight as initially thought in the first few months of home ownership. Whilst I may well be math's dyslexic I am however quite good with working out financially whether something is a viable option or not, especially so when looking at our savings for the house and now going forward for the wedding. 

Hearing my fiance watching TV downstairs probably with the dog by his side made me grin with happiness as I rolled over to welcome in the brightness from outside. Now that is not to say that Saturday was at all a gloriously sunny or beautiful day for weather. If anything it was Far flung from that and was overcast, grey, drizzly and quite windy. Perfect weather for a Gazebo! Knowing that Mr Warehouse had probably silenced my alarms a few hours ago it was certainly time to get out of bed. Trundling down the stairs, still in my pyjamas and rubbing my eyes and waking myself up along every step, I wondered about coffee, only to hear the Bae call in from the lounge down the hallway that he put the kettle on a few moments ago anticipating my arrival. Such a sweetie! I think that the only way this morning could have possibly been any better is if he had brought it to me in bed. But today was not a day for lounging around in your duvet with a coffee in hand. Oh No! Today was the day that it finally felt all so real. I was engaged. I was a home-owner. And I was about to celebrate it all with the ones I loved most. 

Rushing around like a headless chicken, Mr. Warehouse and I didn't even stop for a cuppa or breakfast, soldiering through to put up the gazebo, lay out food, make the house presentable and decorate for a party! As the afternoon broke, we had our first guests, Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee. Unfortunately Miss Tweedle-Dee already had prior commitments with her cousins and so was unable to make it but I was so glad when her parents turned up to warm us into our new home as our first proper guests. Showing them round they kept saying how proud they were of me and also of my fiance and how lovely it all was. 

Soon after the next set of guests arrived, my Auntie and eldest cousin. Again the house tour began and after about the third or fourth I was glad for Mr Warehouse to take over a little with the hostessing as I mingled with our house now full of guests. "OK so maybe a few too many invites went out" I thought as I pondered what would have happened if more of the people who were meant to come had not of dropped out. Where would they go?! Probably that gazebo! Door goes again and I think about how I swear there was a TV comedy sketch show about doors constantly going and people piling on in. Regardless I welcomed them all in, Nana's, Uncles, Aunties, Cousins and friends. 

As the afternoon worn on so did the guests, and with every glass of Prosecco Mr. Warehouse topped me up with the more fuzzy I felt. Most of my side of the family stayed, a good majority of the afternoon and into the evening, mingling and chatting with each other and catching up after the more somber occasion of my grandfathers funeral earlier in the year. Taking a look around I was overwhelmed, as I always am with how many people really do love and support me. No matter what I do, or say or don't do even, they all love me unconditionally. Regardless of their opinions on what I wear or how I conduct my life they accept me for who I am and love and support me no matter what. That is truely what family is. Coming together to celebrate the good and comfort in the bad. It was at that moment I knew that I was content, at least for the time being and that I in a way had officially "made it". Out of everything that I have and are going through, I can honestly say that the hard work has paid off. Time to relax into our new home in time for Christmas ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Country-Bumpkin Here I am!

Bonjour Mon Ami! 

We. Are. In. And apologies for last weeks missing post as I am sure you were all gripped onto your screens just waiting to here when and what was happening - Unfortunately Country Bumpkin life means signal is poor and Internet is poorer! 

Ahh Yes - The moment has come when Mr. Warehouse and I are now fully moved into our new home! I am officially broke and terrified of Adulting! Shit just got real! After multiple handover's and changes and problems galore, including a whole mess up with our housing plans, dimensions and specifications, we are finally in. Nevertheless, after receiving the devastating news that our entire property had been mis-sold, Mr Warehouse and I received an email from the Housing Association detailing that nearly a week earlier than planned, they had taken handover of the property and after consulting our solicitor we finally agreed upon a date! Five days on from then we would be picking up the keys and becoming home owners for the very first time! 

Now I am hardly going to lie to you and say that the move or dismantling and remaking of furniture was difficult and fraught with arguments aplenty. I am sure that IKEA has been cited as a cause on many a divorce paper for failure to evoke pleasantries between loved ones! Mr Warehouse has continued to stress out throughout the entire process of moving home and is not making it any easier for himself when it comes to finding an item in particular. Buried under boxes and boxes of furniture and worldly possessions for the last few months I was certainly glad as I thought that this day would never come but I am so I am incredibly happy to be in my nice new, clean home with straight walls and no nooks or cranny's to try and keep clean. No pot smoking neighbours upstairs with their scatty ratty dog and barking at all hours of the day and night. No more living on one level with only a few steps between the whole property. No more patio or grubby garden. Thank the heavens for heard work and determination for I was laughed at the beginning of the year when I said to Mr Warehouse that I would buy a property in 2018. And you know what. I fucking did it. 

We have been in the house now for a week or so officially and still have yet to put up a few more shelves and lots of pictures to make it feel more homely. I am positive that this will happen within the coming days as I am in preparation for mine and my Husband-To-Be to host our very first party. The first of many I hope - Although don't tell him that, he'll have a shit-fit. Ever since Mr Warehouse proposed to me on a cold autumn afternoon walk with Pooch in a wooded car-park I simply couldn't wait to tell everyone so they can share in the news and celebration of our engagement together. But on top of that we have just moved into our first home and would like to also show this off too. The Babe said that I was not allowed to have either party let alone two of them so I have combined them together to give us an Engagement Warming - Half Engagement Party, Half House Warming. 

And so here we are. All settled into the idyllic countryside estates of Cranfield! Just dress me in Wellies or Tweed and call me a Country-Bumpkin! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Key To Our Future

Ola Senors! 

Finally the day has come where Mr. Warehouse and I are within touching, tasting and smelling distance of our new home! To that in less than 24 hours I will be officially a homeowner, joining the league of people who end up staying at home binging on box sets and not going out on the lash for lack of money as every penny is been eaten up as they have joined the mortgage club. 

Gone are the days of controversial blog posts about "The Story of a Generation Robbed" and Wish I Was Born In The 80's! where I felt like a disadvantaged generation that has to fight for everything just to make ends meet. The world has moved on from the days of past generations and whilst I am now able to pay for just about anything using my mobile phone and share my opinion on something called "social media", my generation still struggles with the simple things such as getting a fair wage in the workplace and a decent place to live - Rented or Mortgaged! However, a few weeks ago I had a phone call from the Housing Association stating that the list of snagging given to the builders the last time over a fortnight ago had not been done at all and now we were to be expecting a provisional new Handover of 31st October 2018. But on top of all that was the bombshell that the floor plans we were initially shown at the point of sale were wrong. And not by a little either. 

The plan that my Fiance (I still like saying that) and I were sold was that on the ground floor as you come in the front door you would be greeted by the staircase on your right hand side. To your left would be the kitchen in a horse shoe shape with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall. Next door on the left hand side would be the downstairs bathroom which would include a privacy window facing out to our driveway. Entering through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be rectangular Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and leading out into our large garden through a patio door which would also have an adjacent window. Whilst the layout of the ground floor still contains the staircase on your right hand side and the same horse shoe shaped kitchen with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall, the downstairs bathroom was now to be positioned under the stairs on the right rather than the left meaning that a privacy window would not exist. Continuing through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be a now "L-shaped" Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and eating into the area where the downstairs bathroom was supposed to be. 

Upstairs on the first floor following on from the stairs positioned on the right-hand side of the property, we were expecting to have the main bathroom right in front of us with a large privacy window so as to allow for natural light, followed by the two double bedrooms to the front and the back of the property. Although this had changed from our initial plans and now will be the main bathroom sandwiched between the two double bedrooms and will not include a privacy window potentially making it dark and unnaturally lit.

After getting over the fact that the Housing Association knew all along that the floor plans, initial dimensions and specifications for the house had changed in the very early days of the build process, even before any bricks had been laid, I calmed explained that Mr Warehouse and I will need to view the property in person before we make any snap decisions. 

Of course she obliged and despite asking for months and months for a viewing of the property in whatever condition or state it was in within a few hours and by end of play that day we had a two hour slot to visit our new home and it's all new layout. Our contact at the Housing Association assured us that because of all of this that we would be well within our right to withdraw from our contract to buy going on to state that the responsibility would also live with the housing association in order to make payments to our solicitors, mortgage lender and mortgage broker, reimbursing us totally for our cost and making us at ground zero again. The other option we have is to suck it up and live with it, literally. 

Once my future Hubby and I had seen the property and had a chance to measure up not just the windows but also every nook, cranny and corner in order to draw up our own floor-plan we were already in the knowledge that both of us were highly committed to this purchase and with such a huge investment, the biggest any one person or couple will ever make in their lifetime, every penny of our savings we had was in this. The next few days myself and Mr Warehouse consulted our solicitor and further legal advice in order to ascertain what our next steps would be. With this in mind though, we did not have much choice but quite frankly selling us a house that was built completely wrong and not in the specified way we were told it would be is not on and I was angry. Still between decisions, I received an email from the Housing Association detailing that, nearly a week early, they had taken handover of the property finally and that we should probably consult our solicitor with a date for completion and move. 

A slightly presumptuous move I thought given the fact that we had not even accepted the property in its current new format, however after months of handover dates being missed, moved and postponed coupled with constant snagging and the odd issue thrown in for good measure, we finally had some good news! After looking at a couple of properties online and making the conscious decision that if we were to live in the flat much longer we would go insane or end up killing each other Mr Warehouse and I decided to take the adults decision and accept the property as it was. 

And so here we are with less than a fortnight left in our old, 18th-century-converted one-bed flat just outside the heart of Bedford Town Centre, I will soon be reporting to you from the idyllic countryside estates of Cranfield! Within the next twelve-hours money will be transferred several times over eventually ending up in the solicitors hand ready to go and for Mr Warehouse and I to finally get our hands on those stainless steel set of keys to our first ever home ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Drain-Pipe Dreams

Hiya, 

I suppose, as it is for most engaged couples another weekend in paradise and another wedding fayre Mr Warehouse and I are off to! What with having to call out breakdown yet again for no less than a third time in less than six weeks for my little Vivienne who was unable to start because of battery troubles and Mr warehouse encountering at very much a similar scenario with his motorbike stuck on a building site, outside our new home in the middle of the Bedfordshire countryside for nearly five hours as he awaited to be recovered back home we were certainly ready to have a relaxing couple of days off. After the week me and my Fiance (still love saying that) have endured we were more than excited to wander round wedding fayres at overly priced venues, sipping champagne to pass our time despite the miserable weather outside. 

Although I came crashing down to reality this morning when I received a phone call from the housing association. Answering I heard a familiar although melancholy voice on the other end of the line. Over the last few months the house had slowly ground to a halt in terms of any updates. After jumping through several hoops and bending over backwards in order to get our Mortgage Offer back in July of this year, Mr Warehouse and I was told that our initial handover date when the builders would have fully completed the property, inside and out, ready to hand over to the housing association that we were purchasing half of the property with would be mid-August. With this in mind we hoped that we would have a completion date and moving in prior to Mr Warehouse's birthday, plenty of time to move our stuff in and get settled with even a few moments to steal in our new garden before the sun eventually made its departure for the winter. Handover Date Move Number One! I was told that it would be another couple of weeks or so and with that Mr Warehouse and I prepared for a move around or even on the Bank Holiday Weekend in August!

However after hearing nothing and following the long weekend off, I spoke to the gentleman who had initially sold us our new home but sadly he did not have the news that we were hoping for and that the properties had not been handed over. Handover Date Move Number Two! In fact, what had happened that morning was a rather important and integral meeting between the builders and developers of the plots and the housing association. The local housing association had basically said that they were not happy with the standard of homes they were being given and that given the amount of snagging that needed to be done it may be some time before they would accept any sort of property from the builders and developers. Unfortunately the estate agents were not privy as to what the snagging was or how long it could potentially be. The reality was that it was all internal and nothing structurally was wrong with the build, theoretically meaning that the snagging could simply be down to the fact that the paint job isn't done to a high enough standard or that a screw isn't screwed in properly to a door handle. 

I asked for a new handover date so our little family could try and calculate a rough idea of a completion / exchange date and therefore a move date so we could organise things like TV, broadband and get some quotes or book a removal company for the big day. Again, I was told that it would be about a week and with that crap news returned to my desk and emailed the Boyf the bad news and although Mr. Warehouse and I had a few things planned on the run up to my birthday weekend we were still looking forward to moving into our new home shortly. 

However as we neared our third provisional handover date from the builders and developers to the housing association I had another phone call. Handover Date Move Number Three! It was at this point I nearly dropped the milk as the new handover date was being pushed until the end of December 2018. Frustrated and angry I had to keep calm and remember that I was in a lucky position that I would be one day able to afford my own place of safety, tranquillity and warmth; something that many people across the globe even tonight will not have. 

The following morning I checked my emails only to see a reply from the housing association, apologising profusely for the fact that they would have to postpone the handover date although with this came a small silver lining. Handover Date Move Number Four! The email did go on to say the new handover date was to be expected on the 28th of September 2018, three-months earlier than anticipated the day before. Mr Warehouse and I were assured that this would be the final change and hopefully everything would be handed over and we would be in our home just in time for Halloween! 

But sure as sure can be, as the date grew closer I had another dreaded phone call. Handover Date Move Number Five! As before I was told our new handover date would be would be postponed another week due to snagging and lack in quality that the Housing Association were expecting. Trying to hammer down an exact reason as to why the snagging was still continuing to be an issue and so I tried a softer approach in order to try and get a definitive handover date that would not move - Friday 5th of October 2018. 

As the next few days passed in a blur of meetings, I had a frantic phone call from Mr Warehouse asking if I had seen the most recent email from the housing association. I had not. On opening up my emails I could see what he was so upset and angry about. Handover Date Move Number Six! With less than 48 hours to go until we were expecting handover to take place, I was now reading an email that stated this would not be the case. Our new handover date? Over a fortnight away on Friday 19th of October 2018. Fuming and almost on the brink of losing my rag with everyone involved in our house buying process I called my contact at the housing association and asked her what gives. She basically told me in not so many words what I was reading between the lines of her email to me and the other future-neighbours on the street in that the list of snagging issues that had been brought to the attention of the builders had not actioned appropriately. Nothing more to say or do I ended the phone call and informed Mr Warehouse to keep him in the loop.

With the whirlwind of family dramas, wedding planning and my mounting workload I was looking forward to potentially having a week off to move into our new home, although cutting it fine for the spooky season of Halloween and "Trick-Or-Treat-ers". Only this morning I answered a phone call I had been hoping wouldn't come. Handover Date Move Number Seven! As with the last times the postponing was as a result of poor quality of work, although this time my Housing Association contact was not so coy with her responses. She blatantly admitted that the list of snagging given to the builder the last time over two-weeks ago had not been done at all and now we were to be expecting a provisional new Handover of 31st October 2018. But wait - There was more ... 

Continuing our conversation I could sense that the person on the other end of the phone line was nervous and anxious about something. It was then that she dropped the bombshell! Turns out that the floor plans that we were initially shown at the point of sale with the building specifications and dimensions were wrong. And not by a little either. The plan that my Fiance and I were sold was that upstairs on the first floor following on from the stairs positioned on the right-hand side of the property, we were expecting to have the main bathroom right in front of us with a large privacy window so as to allow for natural light, followed by the two double bedrooms to the front and the back of the property. Although this had changed from our initial plans and now will be the main bathroom sandwiched between the two double bedrooms and will not include a privacy window potentially making it dark and unnaturally lit.

On the ground floor as you come in the front door you would be greeted by the staircase on your right hand side as before. To your left would be the kitchen in a horse shoe shape with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall. Next door on the left hand side would be the downstairs bathroom which would include a privacy window facing out to our driveway. Entering through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be rectangular Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and leading out into our large garden through a patio door which would also have an adjacent window. Whilst the layout of the ground floor still contains the staircase on your right hand side and the same horse shoe shaped kitchen with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall, the downstairs bathroom was now to be positioned under the stairs on the right rather than the left meaning that a privacy window would not exist. Continuing through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be a now "L-shaped" Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and eating into the area where the downstairs bathroom was supposed to be. 

Shocked and Gobsmacked I asked about the reasons why this had happened and how out had only been now, several months down the line into buying our first time that we were finding these details out. Furious I was ready to call the builders and rip them a new arsehole. That was until my Housing Association contact explained that in actual fact the floor plans, initial dimensions and specifications for the house had changed in the very early days of the build process. The house builders and developers themselves had actually been very upfront with their decisions and had explained fully to the housing association the builders change in plans and layout. Unfortunately it would have appeared that this information was not passed through to the sales people within the housing association itself and that our property and our Semi'd neighbour were sold the properties on the basis of the homes being a completely different layout to what they were being built as. 

Taking it all in I ended the phone call and called Mr Warehouse immediately to try and discuss our options. The contact at the housing association of was sincerely apologetic for the fact that there had been a huge fuck up and had explained that because of all of this that we would be well within our right to withdraw from our contract to buy going on to state that the responsibility would also live with the housing association in order to make payments to our solicitors, mortgage lender and mortgage broker, reimbursing us totally for our cost and making us at ground zero again. 

The other option we have is to suck it up and live with it, literally. The fact of the matter was that Mr Warehouse and I were already highly committed to this purchase and with such a huge investment of most if not every penny of our savings we will have not much choice. Obviously in a way it is nice to see a housing association company as large as this one looking out its future customers, making sure that the homes are up to scratch and safe (even if it is on selfish terms as if anything was to go wrong we would be calling up the housing association to come and put it right rather than the builders or developers) but quite frankly selling us a house that was completely built not in the specified way we were told it would be is not on. 

And there I was saying that buying a house was not stressful at all. Where we go from here I don't know but one thing is for certain and that is that me and Mr Warehouse will need to view the property in person before we make any snap decisions. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Glitter Makes Everything Better (Unless Its Gary)

Heyy everyone, 

Donning some glitter and denim shorts I was looking forward to the hotly anticipated Bedford River Festival this weekend and with the music drumming, food smelling incredible and host of friendly and familiar faces along the way, this weekends antics have certainly put a smile on my face. Following what has been a very difficult and stressful few months for me, I honestly feel the best that I think I have felt in a very long time. Now whether this is because my work life is a lot better or maybe it's the medication for my depression that has kicked in, I am just glad to say that life seems to be getting brighter again. I suppose when I really try and put my finger on it, my improvement in mood comes down to the fact that nothing major has really happened to improved it apart from my medication. 

Whilst the medicine I am on has finally stopped making me feel queasy and nauseous (something that only ever seem to happen in the morning before lunch which made me paranoid that I may be pregnant) I know it would be silly for me to simply stop taking them all together as I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, coupled with counselling and therapy of course. I just needed something - anything- to take the edge off and make it all seem a little less sharper. I have sometimes questioned as to whether I am suffering a placebo effect from just simply popping some pills every morning along with a Hayfever tablet, but as some of you may know I had tried to muddle through the cloudiness and not succumb to the need for medication for some time. I know that therapy and counselling is helping make a difference and battling my demons, but I also need to look forward and celebrate my future. 

This is a time where I should be happy and excited about finally getting the home I have always dreamt of, well at least in part. With the house seemingly moving along nicely and with the solicitors now instructed and doing their thing with searches and the likes, I am feeling more positive than ever. There is no move date as yet so don't grab your red cups and vodka for the house party just yet. I am almost certain after talking to different people at work and through other groups of friends that the process will quicken pace and before I know it the contract will be with us ready to sign on the dotted line. 

Does it makes me nervous about getting a house? Yes, of course it does! However I have to put everything into perspective and when the Devil on my shoulder tells me that it is going to be very expensive and makes me question as to whether Mr Warehouse and I can afford it, I must remember all of the other times that I thought or wondered how I would ever afford what I wanted in life. I look back even now over the last couple of years before I had Vivienne (my car) and I question as to what exactly I spent my money on as I didn't have much to show for it. Before I moved into my bachelor pad upstairs in the block that I currently reside, I lived in a studio type room within a house of multiple occupancy and even back then when I was on pretty much minimum wage, jumping from job to job, I question what I spent my cash on. 

It terrifies me to think that I will yet again have to depend on someone else and with that statement I mean that I will not be able to afford the house by myself should anything go wrong and therefore will rely on Mr Warehouse and his input both financially and in running the place. Now I know that for many of you who are already married or cohabiting that this may not seem like such a big deal, but I don't know, maybe this is a problem for me because I have been let down many times by other people, both in past romantic relationships as well as within my close family network. My therapist has said that abandonment is a major part of my life and that many things can trigger this rejection so making sure that someone doesn't get too close or that I don't depend on anyone apart from me is simply my way of coping and dealing with never feeling cast aside, unwanted or unloved ever again. I think my one biggest fears going into the whole experience of buying a home with someone I am not married to is that I know there is no legal standing when it comes to our separation, regardless when or even if it happens. Mind you, I suppose that being married doesn't necessarily mean that someone will not get up and just leave you either. 

I have to remember that this is a happy time in my life and that one day I will explain to my own children about how I bought my first home at the ripe old age of twenty-six. I suppose there isn't many of my friend circle, if any at all, that have been able to get onto the property ladder without any financial help from someone, family or otherwise. I am seriously glad to be feeling even a little bit more back to normal and I am ever so grateful for the amount of support and love I have had over the last few months, fingers crossed it won't be long before I can once again walk in the sunshine and Sparkle as I did before. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Building The Yellow Brick Road!

Hello Everybody, 

Isn't it always sods law or otherwise known as Murphy's Law when you have organised and have everything in order ready to go only to find out that actually it was pretty pointless. Well that seems to be the story of my life at the moment. And so as the work starts to get under way in the flat, the kitchen floor is beautifully covered in light grey wood effect vinyl, as is our newly lilac painted, white tiled bathroom. The bare minimum has been done with what was originally discussed and needed doing, and to be fair there is quite a bit left to do in terms of bringing the flat up to standard. Although this may all be completely unnecessary waste of time for mine and Mr Warehouse's benefit. 

As I spoke of last week, maybe with the constant reminder of how crappy our situation is in terms of not having the capacity to just do it ourselves and get it fixed or how we want it without having the worry of workmen coming in and out as they please may worked its magic. After receiving a Mortgage In Principle / MIP last week and with it now in hand I looked no further and immediately spent the rest of my lunch break calling up estate agents and housing associations looking for any properties that might be within our budget. Mr Warehouse and I have seen a couple of properties and as frustrating as it was to let go of some beautiful homes, we knew that we would find something eventually. After a couple of phone calls with a local estate agent I was, along with Mr Warehouse, invited into their offices for a chat. In the hour long conversation and chit chat that we had with the estate agent he gave us the confidence that maybe we could get our home one day. 

I think the only downside that there is at the moment is the fact that we are buying a property off plan. This means that we are going to be the first people to ever live in this house. On entering I know that it will be cold and clinical however it will not take long for us to fill it with love, laughter and warmth. On the one hand I like the idea of being the first people within a new home, however I have always falling in love with a property or building for the fact of its history including the people that lived in it and the what the walls could say about them. All the arguments, laughter and silly moments that are captured within the shear structure of a building add to its appeal for me. I know for a fact that Mr Warehouse thinks this is all a load of Tosh. 

Now it has not been fully confirmed yet that we can buy as our mortgage adviser is in contact with the estate agent to discuss the finer details, but one thing is for certain and that is that there appears to be a silver lining to be otherwise cloud that hangs over me. Over the last couple of weeks I have felt slightly more sunnier and I am solely holding the housing situation as fully responsible for making me smile more. I am certainly not back to the happy-go-lucky laughing and joking self, but in time I know I can be. Getting a Mortgage In Principle is a big deal in itself and I know that given this good news it can hopefully only get better. 

Whilst it certainly won't make up for some of the other issues that I have going on in my life at the moment I really think and hope that my counselling sessions starting this week will make me feel all the more better. My place of work has been amazing and I cannot thank them enough for the effort and support they have given me. I had attempted to go through the normal avenues of the my GP and the NHS but I am still awaiting on a doctor's appointment to confirm my mental health instability and what I basically already know as a mild depression. I suppose that it must be difficult for those of you reading that know me quite well. Mental illness is something that I have always prided myself on hiding and trying my best to mask over, although it would appear on this occasion I have not been doing so well hiding it. I know that I have good days and bad days, however those of you that have suffered mental illness such as anxiety or depression will know just how well we are in "faking it til we make it" or just papering over the awkward questions about how I'm feeling or how things are going. We're quite good liars I'll have you know. 

I really think that therapy will help me as it did last time. I just need to focus and concentrate hard on me and not others, taking everything just one step at a time so I can learn how to deal with certain things, life events and more--so the people around me. With my mood cloudy and stormy of late and certainly not feeling myself at all, the good news that I have been striving hard for may have potentially paid off. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Wish I Was Born In The 80's!

Good Evening, 

Standing in the lounge at my Dad's Girlfriends I was more than eager to get home and start searching but in the back of my mind I knew that what was being proposed was simply a fantasy for my generation. Everything was much easier in the 80's with high wages and low costs of living and banks offering money to everyone! I'm talking about the property ladder and the fact that whilst a lot of my friends have no real hope at all of even renting somewhere with rent soaring in the UK to new highs, making most places in and out of the towns near on impossible to find the money for, there are always a few that don't realise just how good they have got it. 

Firstly there is the deposit, and even with the best mortgages on the market asking young people looking to buy their first home, even 5% is a big ask for people who are on some of the lowest incomes in society. The average two-bed house in Bedford rental wise anyway is close to £850 per calendar month and with this comes the absolute heartache that you cannot even begin to save for your first home because your paying into someone else's with the extortionate high monthly bond. Saving the value you would need even on a cheap home, probably worse condition and location than your currently living in would take nearly 3 years for myself and Mr. Warehouse and even then it would be nothing near what we want or dream of. 

One of the only ways that myself, Mr. Warehouse or any of my friends would ever own our own home would be if we came into the money in some way, either winning the lottery, getting a big payout from compensation or dare I say, it having someone close to them to pop their clogs. It sounds awful really, but if your not from a rich or at least middle class family, you will have not a chance in hell to save for a deposit. Some got their money from family members or the bank of Mom and Dad, but that is just not possible, at least not for Mr. Warehouse and I. Between us we only have the one parent theoretically and even they individually couldn't help with the vast sums of money that is needed for a deposit now-days. 

A saving grace for most of my friends is that they either still live at home, that majority of them at least, or they have bagged themselves a council house paying reduced rent in comparison to the rest of us. And hey, if you can get away with it and live with the 'rents whilst saving for a pad of your own or better still save the money that would otherwise go to a greedy landlord then you go guys! I would suggest doing it until your able to do it no more, because living alone or even with a boyfriend or other person is hard. The bills are expensive, the forms are sometimes complex for different companies and the countless things that need to be shelled out for are seemingly never-ending. 

But on the plus side you have your own little space and for those that have gained accommodation through the local councils you are in the best position. Something goes wrong, you get the council and their teams to come fix it and all whilst paying much less than the same property on the private rental market. It means you have the opportunity to save, even if its a little, so that one day you wont be reliant on the state. But the thing with Britain is that since my parent generation, council houses and government funded homes have dwindled to virtually none. Only the most neediest (or clever enough to swindle the system) get a home and this leaves such a gap that is only getting bigger with the years. Soon I would not be surprised if people are all scrabbling over a pokey studio apartment for nearly £1000 per calendar month on the open market. 

More needs to be done to protect people who rent from sky-high rent, toppling agency fees and unscrupulous landlords who are nothing but a drain on society. I have been very lucky that my landlord, whom I have been renting from for nearly five years comes and fixes things when they need doing (most of the time), is easy-going and always helpful. Some people aren't so lucky and I have been on the end of a few mean, thoughtless landlords and agents in my time. 

It all just seems so un-affordable at the moment and with Mr. Warehouse looking to our future more than ever with holidays, celebrations and hopefully a move at the end of this year to a proper house with a garden (and FUCKING PARKING!!!) I couldn't think of a better time to start getting some financial advise for the future. Maybe one day I can have that picket fence and suburban, red-brick castle of mine!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Never Look Back, It Distracts You From Now!

Hiya!

So last week I spoke of my news that as of the beginning of March 2016, I will be sharing my little abode with my darling Mr. Warehouse and soon after his little doggy will be joining also which in a sense I suppose that makes me an adoptive doggy mom!? Not entirely sure how that works but I am sure we will figure it out. Over the coming weeks I am sure you will be hearing about all the wonderful plans and preparations that need to be made in order to keep the whole process as smooth and as hassle-free as possible, but I wont lie - I am worried. 

In some ways Mr. Warehouse and I are already sharing my ground-floor, town centre flat, just I have only given him a a set of three drawers and allowed him to buy a toothbrush and leave it in the same pot as mine. It is not that I oppose the whole rig-moral of him moving in, if anything I suppose I am glad that we are taking the leap now whilst we have little responsibility other than to our jobs and a ball of golden fluff and fur. I know that he is moving in with me and unlike the last time I allowed myself to live with someone, I know categorically I can afford this flat on my own, yes a stretch, but I can manage. So if for any reason things never worked out between Mr. Warehouse and myself I know that he would just move out and back in with his mom. 

I also need to keep reminding myself, as I did last week that it will not end the same way as it did before. Yes, I loved Mr. Workaholic very, very much, sometimes I wonder if it was too much. We were young, so very young. I didn't know what I was doing let alone him?! We both were not ready to settle down so fast and having a two-bed mid-terraced in suburbia, running a normal office job and harbouring a growing collection of Wedding magazines was not healthy for anyone, especially someone who was barely out of their teens. I thought at at the grand old age of 20 I was ready to settle down, not start a family so to speak but to start building the bricks to the foundations of my future with someone whom I had never loved like this before. 

I suppose this time of year will always throw-up something. The last Valentines Day we shared. That holiday in Cyprus. And the following weeks when the fire that once burned so brightly in both of us slowly burned out. Maybe one day I will have the courage to speak about it without welling up as I am now, stopping every sentence of so as I type to remember the good and the bad times, recalling every last moment in a technicolour of blissful euphoria and agonising heartache. 

But this is a happy post - So onwards and upwards. 

On the run-up to, ideally before Mr. Warehouse and the dog move in, I think I would like to get new bedroom furniture and soft furnishings; However this all costs money and with Dublin just around the corner (This time in a fortnight I will be writing to you from Darling Dublin), and so we are both scrapping and scrimping on every bit of pennies we can find! And so a matching set of bedroom wants and needs include two chest of drawers, wardrobes and bedside tables accompanied with a princess canopy better than the one I presently have and twinkle lights to match will make it the envy of all my friends and followers. Maybe too girlie for Mr. Warehouse's tastes, but the bedroom in my eyes is never meant for looking around at all the pretty things - If you know what I mean!? The lounge and dining room will be more manly than the bedroom as that is where Mr. Warehouse's Xbox Console and sub-woofer-bass speakers will live, all in the hope that I, or should I now say we, will have a couple of good house parties this year. Well, BBQ's at least anyway. Which brings me round then to the garden. I will for summer want to grow some more veggies and herbs as well as maybe tarting it all up a little with some new garden furnishings, table, chairs and heck, even some bunting and LED lights! 

Ahh yes. I can go over board sometimes. T-minus ... five-weeks!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Sweetest Goodbye

Hi, 

So finally I can now put behind me another sickeningly romantic Valentines Day and look forward to the rest of what 2014 has to offer. So far I have Reading Festival '14 and not much else but with rumours of another mini-break to Chester with Miss Chocolate and possibly Miss Tatts our old college friend as well as a boozed up sunshine break with Miss Chocolate and friends too, there is much to anticipate over the coming months. However I feel that I have become more and more withdrawn over the past few weeks, slowly drifting further into the background, which as you all know is very unlike me. However I am sure I will pick myself off and find something fun to do although life hasn't been very fun this week. Allow me to explain ... 

Rushing around like a headless chicken (Mmm Nando's) I tried my best to finish my mountain of work on my desk before finishing half-day on Friday. Who knew that having a spa day booked would be so stressful and energy-draining. But I must confess, that wasn't the only thing I was heading to London for. I had some stuff I needed to collect from Mr. Cheese that I had left at his flat I so wished to visit one last time, and conveniently for me that aggravatingly contradictory man was heading through Kings Cross St. Pancras Station as I was. Whilst I was going in for some retail therapy and a rub-down, he was heading out on a family weekend to York visiting Grandad Cheese in hospital. And so as I clambered onto the train with minutes to spare I wondered again about what would happen when we finally said goodbye for the very last time. Watching the trees and countryside of the home-counties rush past the window I knew that despite my planning and preparation for this concluding encounter I had been building up to since I took a stand on New Years Day that it could all fall apart as soon as we met. And to some extent it did. 

Of course irony would have a part to play in all of this at some point, this is me were on about here, and right on cue we learnt that Mr. Cheese and I had ended up in the wrong parts of the station and as we had done on our first date, mostly down to my incompetence at geographical locations. Nevertheless I found him, that odd man in casual clothing looking nothing of the London sort, slumped against the glass wall of Starbucks trying to look calm but emulating an awkwardness and uneasiness at the whole situation. Approaching him with a strut in my step I desperately tried to stay calm, trying to remember all the things I would say and the positive crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee had drummed into me the past few months, not to mention countless others. Standing in front of the taller-than-remembered Mr. Cheese I saw him relax a little at the notion of my presence. Without a word I was pulled into a hug and almost instinctively I could feel my arms tightening around his waist, clutching at him never to let go. But I had to and noticing my warmth growing rapidly I reluctantly pulled away. 

As people sipped at over-priced coffee and as even more hustled and bustled around us I felt like Mr. Cheese and I were the only ones there. Making small talk we avoided the real reason we were both here in the middle of London. Rummaging in his bag he pulled out my things and handed them to me. I thanked him. Concerned about his Grandad I asked how he was. Mr. Cheese confirmed that all was not well and he was very sick. A million different scenarios ran through my mind and at the same time and as heartbreaking as it was to say I knew I had to offer some comfort. As we stood there eyes wide and filling with tears, saying nothing and everything simultaneously and knowing that the end was nearing I ran through the plan in my head once more. As I opened my mouth to speak, Mr. Cheese shook his head, still piercing my heart with those bright blue eyes of his. Ignoring his gesture I continued. 

"I will always be here for you. If you ever need me. Family, friends, work, anything. You know where I am." I croaked. I felt like I was in a Hollywood blockbuster but I knew that this wasn't going to end like it does in the movies. Taking my arm once more Mr. Cheese pulled me in for one last cuddle, confessing softly that he didn't want me to go. I agreed. I never wanted this to end. Ever. But I couldn't carry on. I cant carry on. I gave Mr. Cheese the chance to make it something wonderful but he chose not to. Slowly pulling away I went to start my well-rehearsed monologue but before I got a chance Mr. Cheese stole my spotlight. "Please don't go. I miss you." He said, voice breaking under every word whilst fighting back tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. Standing there in Kings Cross St Pancras there was still so much left to say. I wanted to scream at Mr. Cheese how obvious it is that this is right. How much I miss him as well. How I crave his attention and how I long for every part of him - His eyes, his beard, his lips, his hands, his hair. Hell even the tippee boobs and chest wig I will miss and all the little things that annoyed me about him.

In a way I saw that history was repeating itself in a way. Mr. Cheese had been in a similar situation only a year beforehand when a close family member passed away. Whilst I felt awful for having to do this now but I couldn't see any other way of fixing it. With his words I knew exactly what he wanted to say. I understood that Mr. Cheese missed me and I knew he didn't want me to go either but I think what he really wanted to say was 'I need you'. Gathering up the rest of my courage I pulled myself together to finish the show. I concluded with I had to go and that I will always love him. Kissing him softly and hearing my heart crack yet again I walked away, blending into the city crowds. As hot wet tears steamed I wondered where it had all gone wrong and if there was any hope of it blossoming again. But no. The chance was given and the choice was made. Now we have to lye in the beds that we made. Alone. 

A relaxing spa, massage and a drink with an friend took the edge off my afternoon engagement however as the journey home took a hold I could help but well-up again and so terminated my Friday; Crying all the way home listening to Maroon 5 and Ed Sheeran. Oh how break-ups fail to disappoint. As Dad has always said - Its always better in the morning (Meaning issues, not sex although it is a valid point to make that sex in the morning is just as fun as when the sun goes down). Upon rising from my bed on Saturday morning with the acknowledgement that I have less than ten hours to put together all my furniture with the help of Papa and turn my flat into a home ready for my house-warming not to mention cramming in some food shopping and relaxy-time. After spending the day calming my father down about the 'poxy wardrobe' and 'wanking bed' (don't quite know how either of those are possible for inanimate objects but there you go, Dad logic) I then embarked on some food shopping and tidying for the evenings entertainment. 

As I introduced the party guests to my humble home I was bombarded with Oohs and Ahhs and a steady flow of compliments from all and as we continued into the night I was glad I had something to occupy myself with although was fully aware that I still wasn't myself after yesterday's meeting. Saturday soon turned to Sunday and after waking up in all the wrong places, me and my entourage headed out for breakfast and not forgetting that I was having a date that afternoon with Mr. Minigolf I made sure to look my best. Unfortunately just after finishing breakfast I received a incredulous message that my date would have to be called off due to a break-in and that Mr. Minigolf and I would have to rearrange our little date for another time. In all honesty I think maybe some 'pieds froids' have taken hold although I am optimistic that we do want to meet-up at some point.

So that was my weekend, a somewhat bitter/sweet affair tinged with unfortunate incidents and sprinkled with erupting laughter and friends. Whilst the door is beginning to close on the saga with Mr. Cheese, I did receive a message from him asking to talk. I explained that I am more than happy to talk and to listen to what he has to say but I have said everything I want to a million times before, and whilst I cant see what difference it will make, I am happy to hear him out. Until that happens though I hope that I can get better and make life a little more happier than it has been ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx