Hello,
"The stressing was over and I could finally try and look forward to the weekend," I thought to myself as I left work for the day heading into Bedford town centre. I still had so much to do before the family wedding I was attending the following morning, including collecting my dress from the seamstress for the second time after they messed it up the first time, creating capped sleeves that look as though they were hemmed by a 2-year-old. Nevertheless, as I hopped in the car I took a call from Mr Warehouse to say that he was with my Aunt and Uncle from southern Ireland in the bar of the hotel around the corner from where we live and I should hurry over for a quick one before heading home.
Dashing from one venue to another I headed into the somewhat elegant looking hotel and conference centre the wedding was being held at and where some of the guests were staying. Sure enough, as I pulled up in my car and got out my Auntie came out to greet me, something I was glad of. After the last week I had, I was more than relieved to see her and hear her comforting words.
Sitting at the bar it was getting darker outside as afternoon sun turned to night skies it wasn't long before Mr Warehouse said about heading home for some dinner and an early night, after all, it was now a matter of hours since we all needed to be at the church on time. Leaving me at the bar with my Auntie and now my Uncle, we were soon joined by my Father and some of his friends, also staying at the hotel. My Auntie continued to explain to me her day and how fumbled it was in trying to get her nails done for tomorrows festivities and failed, to which she had asked if I was any good. I obviously said yes as whilst I have been having my nails done for the last few years I was still a dab hand at coating my talons with a lick of paint or two and so I said that I wouldn't mind helping her out.
Leaving the rest of them in the bar area, my Auntie and I grabbed some pizza's and a bucket of ice and headed to her room. Settling in I was fucking starving after not eating anything since lunch and with it being gone 7pm, I felt as though I was wasting away and every effort to stick with my new diet and the healthy eating plan was fading by the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni on a thin stonebaked crust. Getting comfy on the bed she started to ask me about how things had been since we last saw each other in the spring when we were scattering my Grandfathers ashes. A lot had changed really. I was many more months closer to Mr Warehouse and I getting married ourselves and our tiny puppy Frankenstein was all grown up, well several months older.
Chatting away over pizza and many drinks of Martini (I was on damage limitation drinking water, but I was also driving) my Uncle soon arrived, explaining in no uncertain terms that the conversation in the bar had dried up and he had very little in common with the revellers and so had come back to the room to (as I should have been doing) get an early night. As I sat in the room, chatting and laughing away with my Aunt and Uncle, I knew that it would be these moments I would cherish, both now and later on when maybe they are no longer able to sit down and talk.
I have been ever so lucky that since my parent's divorce and the whole being kicked out debacle back when I was seventeen, I have remained in contact with my families, both mother and fathers side, and as I get older the more and more I seem to become closer to them. They well and truly have my back and with all the love and support in the world I know I can do anything with these people behind me. I suppose you would expect any family to do all of that, however, this is something I have come to realise that not everyone gets the memo in some families. I think that out of everyone they would be the ones I turn to if I needed anything, positive or negative. Need some help gardening, I have an uncle for that! Need some advice on boyfriends, I have an Auntie for that! Need to learn some DIY skills, I have an Uncle for that! Need a good drink and to feel better about yourself, I have an Auntie for that! I think that sometimes you don't realise until certain things in life happen that those closest to you will fight the hardest for you.
It's funny, as a kid I look back on my Aunties and Uncles and still see them in the same ways as I always have done, the joker, the clown, the tough cookie and the no-nonsense. And yet as I sat on that bed and spent time with them all over the weekends wedding, I noticed a little more grey in their hair, or maybe a few more wrinkles that weren't there before. Truth is that when all is said and done, it will be myself left, with only memories of how we laughed and giggled and gossiped and bantered. Just me and my cousins, and somewhere else, my brother too.
The following day went well, although could have done without some of the hiccups along the way, but if it taught me anything is that who is really there for you and when in times of uncertainty and emotional war. I honestly never thought I would have a relationship that I do with my Aunties and Uncles as I do to this day, and for all their flaws and mine, were family and that is honestly all the fucking matters now!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Monday, 9 September 2019
Monday, 19 March 2018
Back To The Emerald Isle
Afternoon,
Working flat out again in order to get done and dusted in time to catch the evening flight to Dublin International I raced out of the office and bombed it down the road to Nanny Pumpkin's house. Parking the car up and popping in to see her and other family members for a few moments before the cab arrived I was pleased that she was looking well, especially given the circumstances. Boarding the plane, Mr. Warehouse and I were lucky to blag not just seats together (obviously being Ryanair it was doubtful we would be sitting together unless we paid more than the flight itself) but we also managed to get slap bang in the middle of the plane meaning extra leg room for Mr. Warehouse's pins!
Arriving in a drizzly Dublin I worried as Mr. Warehouse and I bumbled through passport control and immigration, collecting our bags and heading to the hire car desk, anxiously awaiting to see if we would be given the car. This was the first time that we will be hiring a car and as such I was nervous about it all. Because I had been driving less than two-years I had difficulty trying to find a hire car to start off with, but eventually I found a reliable and trustworthy car hire company in Thrifty. I had several concerns and worries on the run up to collecting the car and one of those was the fact that there was a €1,700.00 deposit needed to be placed on a credit card. A credit card in which I did not have a limit for. And so Mr Warehouse had volunteered himself to put the deposit on his own credit card. This would have solved things nicely until we discovered that Mr Warehouse did not know what his pin was and after several attempts at a local corner shop had blocked the card.
Worries and concerns aside we collected our hire car keys and headed to have a look at what we had bagged ourselves. Dashing out to the car park avoiding the raindrops as we went I was constantly unlocking and locking the car to see which lights would go off. Eventually the Bae spotted some headlights flashing in the distance and as we got closer and closer we realised that it was a huge 4x4 type vehicle. I thought to myself that 'surely this can't be our car' and I was right for the next few moments a gentleman walked passed us both with a briefcase. Yes this was not our car. Walking on a little further we seen clicked and found a few flashing headlights that ended up to be hours. As I sat in the driver's seat and adjusted my position to something a little more comfier, Mr. Warehouse loaded the boot up with the suitcase and paced round the outside in order to make a note of any additional knocks, bumps or scrapes. With everything seemingly in order we headed off out of Dublin city centre and on the road to the sticks (AKA County Kilkenny), arriving with my auntie and uncle just after midnight making good time on their assumptions of having to wait up until the early hours only to receive a phone call from me saying that I was lost somewhere in Galway.
The next few days for sprint in a blissful unawareness of work or anything remotely strenuous, instead spending our time talking about family, life in general for Mr. Warehouse and I back home in the UK and drinking. Lots of drinking! The thing is that Ireland for me has always been a retreat and somewhere to rest your bones whilst the rest of the world ticks on by. Something about The Green Isle always makes me feel better after visiting. I suppose given my grandfather's departure last week, almost to the hour that I am writing this, a visit to see family and recuperate was certainly something that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed.
But alas we all have to come back to reality at some point and mine just happened to be this morning. With everything said and done most things are now organised and set in place ready for the funeral. I have yet to still get a hold of my brother, although I do hope that he has some sense in order to try and make amends with the family but if not that then at the very least to pay his respects and see our grandfather who loved us irrespective of our differences or how our parents treated one another. In a funny sort of way I have made my peace with my Granddad and all I want is for him to have the opportunity do the same. I suppose only time will tell.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Working flat out again in order to get done and dusted in time to catch the evening flight to Dublin International I raced out of the office and bombed it down the road to Nanny Pumpkin's house. Parking the car up and popping in to see her and other family members for a few moments before the cab arrived I was pleased that she was looking well, especially given the circumstances. Boarding the plane, Mr. Warehouse and I were lucky to blag not just seats together (obviously being Ryanair it was doubtful we would be sitting together unless we paid more than the flight itself) but we also managed to get slap bang in the middle of the plane meaning extra leg room for Mr. Warehouse's pins!
Arriving in a drizzly Dublin I worried as Mr. Warehouse and I bumbled through passport control and immigration, collecting our bags and heading to the hire car desk, anxiously awaiting to see if we would be given the car. This was the first time that we will be hiring a car and as such I was nervous about it all. Because I had been driving less than two-years I had difficulty trying to find a hire car to start off with, but eventually I found a reliable and trustworthy car hire company in Thrifty. I had several concerns and worries on the run up to collecting the car and one of those was the fact that there was a €1,700.00 deposit needed to be placed on a credit card. A credit card in which I did not have a limit for. And so Mr Warehouse had volunteered himself to put the deposit on his own credit card. This would have solved things nicely until we discovered that Mr Warehouse did not know what his pin was and after several attempts at a local corner shop had blocked the card.
Worries and concerns aside we collected our hire car keys and headed to have a look at what we had bagged ourselves. Dashing out to the car park avoiding the raindrops as we went I was constantly unlocking and locking the car to see which lights would go off. Eventually the Bae spotted some headlights flashing in the distance and as we got closer and closer we realised that it was a huge 4x4 type vehicle. I thought to myself that 'surely this can't be our car' and I was right for the next few moments a gentleman walked passed us both with a briefcase. Yes this was not our car. Walking on a little further we seen clicked and found a few flashing headlights that ended up to be hours. As I sat in the driver's seat and adjusted my position to something a little more comfier, Mr. Warehouse loaded the boot up with the suitcase and paced round the outside in order to make a note of any additional knocks, bumps or scrapes. With everything seemingly in order we headed off out of Dublin city centre and on the road to the sticks (AKA County Kilkenny), arriving with my auntie and uncle just after midnight making good time on their assumptions of having to wait up until the early hours only to receive a phone call from me saying that I was lost somewhere in Galway.
The next few days for sprint in a blissful unawareness of work or anything remotely strenuous, instead spending our time talking about family, life in general for Mr. Warehouse and I back home in the UK and drinking. Lots of drinking! The thing is that Ireland for me has always been a retreat and somewhere to rest your bones whilst the rest of the world ticks on by. Something about The Green Isle always makes me feel better after visiting. I suppose given my grandfather's departure last week, almost to the hour that I am writing this, a visit to see family and recuperate was certainly something that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed.
But alas we all have to come back to reality at some point and mine just happened to be this morning. With everything said and done most things are now organised and set in place ready for the funeral. I have yet to still get a hold of my brother, although I do hope that he has some sense in order to try and make amends with the family but if not that then at the very least to pay his respects and see our grandfather who loved us irrespective of our differences or how our parents treated one another. In a funny sort of way I have made my peace with my Granddad and all I want is for him to have the opportunity do the same. I suppose only time will tell.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 24 April 2017
You cant pick 'em, But I wouldn't want to!
Evening,
Sun shining, cousins playing in the garden and all my family around me, the only thing that could have made this better was a glass of wine and someone to drive me home. Alas, Mr. Warehouse has yet to learn to drive and as such I was driving so no White Zinfandel from me! But as the temperature rose to a pleasant English Summer's day I soon realised that, no offence of course, but my family is old! Sounds strange but Mr. Warehouse and myself were the youngest adults on the patio, and not that this is an odd occasion, as it was the same when we visit Mr. Warehouse's brothers and their respective families.
It sounds strange but you never really think about your family getting older. You always imagine them being there for you, throughout everything both good, bad and ugly. As a family from my Fathers side we have been through a lot including my father in the military and going to war with the later addition of my parents divorce and the eventuality of me being kicked out of the family home also, not to mention one uncle living in Southern Ireland and working away in Africa, another with a busy life involving a young family and my grandparents facing care issues with my Grandpa. But every family is different and I am sure that similar problems arise.
My Aunt and Uncle had come over from Southern Ireland and we all in my Grandma's Garden and I cast my thoughts to the day where I would one day be the Grandma and I would be hosting a BBQ with my family and my grandchildren. Lemon Cake on the side and with pretty flowers adorning the garden area (not sure how though since I fucking hate gardening) my family would surround me for hopefully some of the happiest days of my life to come. Bringing myself back into the moment though, with most of my Aunts and Uncles drinking we all revelled in each others lives and what was going on and what was up with work, home and family life. However, there was a point in the Sunday rays as the smell of the BBQ sizzled in the background, I wondered how much longer I have with them.
Sounds morbid I know, but looking around at everyone, laughing and joking with one another, trying to take a dig at someone else I was grateful for the family I had. As the younger one of the family, you don't really think of the people in your life getting old or growing tired of life. But there were more wrinkles and grey hair than I remembered from last time we were all together. I wondered about the next time we would all be together, would it be another family BBQ or something bigger and more of a special occasion. Each and every person round this table I had a special connection to, whether it being my Uncle and Auntie with their two active boys who were kind enough to open their home to me when I had none of my own or my other Aunt and Uncle who would always be there should I need to them, be it an escape to the quiet Irish countryside after a messy break-up or just someone to talk something through over the phone.
Not that it was a bad thing, but I realised that one day this would end. I would be one of the only family members left and the generation before me would just be a talking point and in photo's. This made me sad, but determined not to let a single moment or opportunity be missed with family in the future. Without them you are nothing, but with them you are everything.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Sun shining, cousins playing in the garden and all my family around me, the only thing that could have made this better was a glass of wine and someone to drive me home. Alas, Mr. Warehouse has yet to learn to drive and as such I was driving so no White Zinfandel from me! But as the temperature rose to a pleasant English Summer's day I soon realised that, no offence of course, but my family is old! Sounds strange but Mr. Warehouse and myself were the youngest adults on the patio, and not that this is an odd occasion, as it was the same when we visit Mr. Warehouse's brothers and their respective families.
It sounds strange but you never really think about your family getting older. You always imagine them being there for you, throughout everything both good, bad and ugly. As a family from my Fathers side we have been through a lot including my father in the military and going to war with the later addition of my parents divorce and the eventuality of me being kicked out of the family home also, not to mention one uncle living in Southern Ireland and working away in Africa, another with a busy life involving a young family and my grandparents facing care issues with my Grandpa. But every family is different and I am sure that similar problems arise.
My Aunt and Uncle had come over from Southern Ireland and we all in my Grandma's Garden and I cast my thoughts to the day where I would one day be the Grandma and I would be hosting a BBQ with my family and my grandchildren. Lemon Cake on the side and with pretty flowers adorning the garden area (not sure how though since I fucking hate gardening) my family would surround me for hopefully some of the happiest days of my life to come. Bringing myself back into the moment though, with most of my Aunts and Uncles drinking we all revelled in each others lives and what was going on and what was up with work, home and family life. However, there was a point in the Sunday rays as the smell of the BBQ sizzled in the background, I wondered how much longer I have with them.
Sounds morbid I know, but looking around at everyone, laughing and joking with one another, trying to take a dig at someone else I was grateful for the family I had. As the younger one of the family, you don't really think of the people in your life getting old or growing tired of life. But there were more wrinkles and grey hair than I remembered from last time we were all together. I wondered about the next time we would all be together, would it be another family BBQ or something bigger and more of a special occasion. Each and every person round this table I had a special connection to, whether it being my Uncle and Auntie with their two active boys who were kind enough to open their home to me when I had none of my own or my other Aunt and Uncle who would always be there should I need to them, be it an escape to the quiet Irish countryside after a messy break-up or just someone to talk something through over the phone.
Not that it was a bad thing, but I realised that one day this would end. I would be one of the only family members left and the generation before me would just be a talking point and in photo's. This made me sad, but determined not to let a single moment or opportunity be missed with family in the future. Without them you are nothing, but with them you are everything.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 26 December 2016
X-cellent Christmas
Ho Ho Ho - Merry Christmas,
Waking on Christmas morning as I normally do in my old room at my Dad's Girlfriend's House. Cold winter sun peeking through the window I awoke with the sound of Mr. Warehouse's pooch running up the stairs and wagging her tail furiously against the door. Letting her in we had a cuddle before I realised just what day it was ... IIITS CHRIIIISTMAAAS!!!
Heading down stairs I was greeted, not by the Santa ambush I had always anticipated as a child, but by the mountain of presents sat in a pile all for me. Sitting on the floor yet more doggy cuddles ensued and Mr. Warehouse and I took some time before my Dad and his Girlfriend came down to join us. I soon realised that our Kanine's stocking had more presents in it that some of the gift bags for close, human family members. Nevertheless our Pup seemed to enjoy her biscuits, treats, dog chocolate, toys, squeaky things and tit-bit's. Even the Christmas jumper was a hit and she stayed in it all day comfortably.
Seeing the gifts my Dad, his partner and Mr. Warehouse had bought me I was more than happy to get started. After settling down with the "adults" and a cup of coffee, I started to unwrap the beautifully glittered and shiny paper. Hair accessories, beauty gifts, make-up, nail varnish and pamper treats I was certainly in no way going to run out of things and ways to pretty myself. Mr. Warehouse's car smellies (AKA air fresheners), sewing kit, clothes and my main pressie was a beautiful, new Lenovo Tablet/Laptop. I can hardly believe how spoilt I was by everyone as well as my Dad and other family members. More gifts included gift vouchers for different restaurants so Mr. Warehouse and I can have dinner somewhere nice, Candles ... Yankee of course, copious amounts of chocolate and biscuits.
Now was the big time though, for it was Mr. Warehouse's time to unwrap his final few gifts. He started with some flat box shaped presents. Unwrapping them I apologised for the format, knowing full well what was to come.
"I thought it was for Xbox 360 love, sorry. I will have to take them back to the store next week and get the right ones. So sorry Hunny." I said sympathetically. Looking at Mr. Warehouse's little face though I was just buzzing for the next few minutes to pass by. This had been over a year in the making. I had wanted to buy Mr. Warehouse an Xbox One (The new Microsoft game console) last Christmas in 2015, although by the time it came out I had already purchased the flight tickets to Dublin, and although I had really given it some serious thought into selling them and buying the console I decided against it. We obviously had a fantastic time, and I pondered that it would probably be cheaper come his birthday in August. The difference being is that in April, Mr. Warehouse left his job and had a few of his fingers in different pies for a while, some of which never worked out and as a result finances were very, very tight as I kept our little family afloat throughout the summer. As Autumn came and the leaves began to fall I started to pay more attention to the prices of the consoles and games, even more-so than I had before. But passing my driving test, buying a car and a career move I thought would have taken a toll on my bank balance but in fact has had the slight opposite effect. In spite of this, come Black Friday I awoke earlier than Christmas morning and logged online to see the deals that were about. Finding a corker I nailed it down, purchasing a Xbox One S with Fifa 17. In the following weeks I bought some bits here and bobs there as well as two further games.
But now came the moment that my loving boyfriend was sat in PJ's with a furrowed brow wondering if I am just that stupid to buy the wrong formatted games or if I have been playing him for months. Opening the large box found down the side of the arm chair he was sat in, his face sunk.
"This is a cruel joke. This is horrible. You haven't?! You couldn't have!?" Mr. Warehouse exclaimed, excited yet dubious. Opening the box, still not sure if it was just something heavy weighing it down rather than the actual real-deal. However after disguarding the remaining packaging there was nothing left but a white Xbox One S and Fifa 17. There was no hiding now. It was true and the dream had come true.
Still in shock throughout the rest of the day we muddled through Christmas Dinner, more presents, visits to friends and family, wine, arguments and unimaginable amounts of food. Even now as we sit in Momma Warehouse's Boyfriends house in the Cambridgeshire countryside I don't think he really believes it, that is until we get home tomorrow and have a good play on all our toys. Jokingly I said I wouldn't see him until June 2017, but now I am not so sure that it is wrong.
Now was the big time though, for it was Mr. Warehouse's time to unwrap his final few gifts. He started with some flat box shaped presents. Unwrapping them I apologised for the format, knowing full well what was to come.
"I thought it was for Xbox 360 love, sorry. I will have to take them back to the store next week and get the right ones. So sorry Hunny." I said sympathetically. Looking at Mr. Warehouse's little face though I was just buzzing for the next few minutes to pass by. This had been over a year in the making. I had wanted to buy Mr. Warehouse an Xbox One (The new Microsoft game console) last Christmas in 2015, although by the time it came out I had already purchased the flight tickets to Dublin, and although I had really given it some serious thought into selling them and buying the console I decided against it. We obviously had a fantastic time, and I pondered that it would probably be cheaper come his birthday in August. The difference being is that in April, Mr. Warehouse left his job and had a few of his fingers in different pies for a while, some of which never worked out and as a result finances were very, very tight as I kept our little family afloat throughout the summer. As Autumn came and the leaves began to fall I started to pay more attention to the prices of the consoles and games, even more-so than I had before. But passing my driving test, buying a car and a career move I thought would have taken a toll on my bank balance but in fact has had the slight opposite effect. In spite of this, come Black Friday I awoke earlier than Christmas morning and logged online to see the deals that were about. Finding a corker I nailed it down, purchasing a Xbox One S with Fifa 17. In the following weeks I bought some bits here and bobs there as well as two further games.
But now came the moment that my loving boyfriend was sat in PJ's with a furrowed brow wondering if I am just that stupid to buy the wrong formatted games or if I have been playing him for months. Opening the large box found down the side of the arm chair he was sat in, his face sunk.
"This is a cruel joke. This is horrible. You haven't?! You couldn't have!?" Mr. Warehouse exclaimed, excited yet dubious. Opening the box, still not sure if it was just something heavy weighing it down rather than the actual real-deal. However after disguarding the remaining packaging there was nothing left but a white Xbox One S and Fifa 17. There was no hiding now. It was true and the dream had come true.
Still in shock throughout the rest of the day we muddled through Christmas Dinner, more presents, visits to friends and family, wine, arguments and unimaginable amounts of food. Even now as we sit in Momma Warehouse's Boyfriends house in the Cambridgeshire countryside I don't think he really believes it, that is until we get home tomorrow and have a good play on all our toys. Jokingly I said I wouldn't see him until June 2017, but now I am not so sure that it is wrong.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 22 February 2016
Top 'O Tha Maarning T' Yas!
Hiya,
So after last weeks entry I was very much anticipating my Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour that evening however after a quick snack-a-roo en route to the stop in Dublin's City centre, Mr. Warehouse and I were saddened to hear the woops and roars of what appeared to be not one but two Hen Parties on board our tiny 30-something-seating double-decker bus. Now you guys know me, and after my messy Irish night out on the tiles with Mr. Warehouse I am never far from a party or two, but when your Hen Do is impacting on my ability to enjoy my last night on a romantic Ghost Bus Tour with my boyfriend who is shitting himself even before boarding said bus then we are really going to have a problem here!
Boarding the Bus and getting to know everyone on-board, being the day after Valentine's Day we were all asked who we were and where we came from. In-between dick jokes and more slanderous comments from the obtuse Hen Parties either end of the bus, the rest of us not partaking in the tom-foolery discovered that we had a very international bus load of anxiously scared passengers ranging from Italy, Canada, USA, Finland, Brazil, Germany and not to forget the Brummy and Liverpudlian Hen's - Of course they were from the part of England with the very worst of accents! Wondering if there was any possibility murder or sudden mysterious forces would force the chants and drunken "banter" to stop we commenced what would be an OK tour made worse by such inhabitants. Oh where was the Irish famine and Plague when you needed it!
Returning home that night and packing was nice as I knew in the morning after a glorious breakfast (of which it was) and a mooch around the shops, stopping at Pandora for the umpteenth time this trip we would be heading down to Callan, just outside Kilkenny on the borders of County Kilkenny and Tipperary in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland.
The journey by coach was long, a little over two-hours, but certainly shorter than going back the other way. Stepping out into the cold, wet rain of the tiny village I was waved over to a car that had come to collect Mr. Warehouse and I. Realising it was my Uncle I went to load our things into the car and get out of the rain. Heading along the winding roads I worried at how Mr. Warehouse and my Uncle would get along, especially since before Christmas at their first encounter with each other they had not got off to the best start. But I need not have worried for by the time we arrived at my Aunts Cottage twenty-minutes or so later they were getting on like they had known each other for years.
Settling in I helped with the dinner since my Auntie has never really liked cooking at the best of times, and besides, I had kind of missed it strangely. I suppose that is what eating out for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner does to your mind - Makes you needy for mash and cooking veg! Sitting down to dinner we chatted for hours and days even, continuously loop-talking about life in general and how to make the world a better place, righting all the wrongs back home in England with family, friends and colleagues as well as some important issues like trying to explain to my drunken Aunt and Uncle what a 'Gooch' is and what 'Teabagging' was in a context outside of the arts and crafts world.
The following days were spent mainly out of the area, visiting local points of interest and touring mainland Ireland. First outing was to Waterford, a small town renowned worldwide for its connection to Waterford Crystal alongside a fishing harbour, bordering County Kilkenny and Tipperary. I think I made the poor mistake of choosing a Latte when entering the Lily O'Brien's Chocolate Café. A mistake that right now I am regretting as Mr. Warehouse chose their luxury hot chocolate and after taking a sip I knew my coffee-infused decision, this time at least, was a bad one!
Second outing was one I was not fully committed to in the beginning, I will be honest, but afterwards was totally blown away and so very glad I was made to visit. Cahir Castle had stood in the little village of the same name had been standing there for over eight-hundred-years and as the rain drizzled I entered the courtyards and gardens of the small stone castle I fell in love instantly. In my head it was impossibly easy to imagine hiring the whole thing out for the day to host a wedding, where in my head I was the Princess Bride and Mr. Warehouse was the brave Knight. His dog could be dressed up to look like a gallant steed and I would try to resist putting Mother of the Groom in a Jester outfit. The lawns were perfect for my dream of vintage fair games like coconut shy's, candy-floss machines and hog roasts, whilst the great hall and 18th Century barn conversion would host 'Ye Olde Wedding Ceremony' and reception afterwards. Little rooms and outhouses provided perfect escapes for guests to explore the old ruins and make-believe for a day that we were all Kings and Queens. Upon my way out I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask so collared the guide-lady to ask about holding a wedding there - Obviously not for myself of course!? But alas you shall have to await as the venue does not currently hold a marriage licence yet and is only able to accommodate a blessing so I shall have to wait for my dreamy Irish castle wedding for another day - Well that and a time where I am actually asked to be someone's Bride!
Returning back to the cottage to help with firewood and the landscaping of a few garden areas in order to make way for oil/central heating to be put in (yes the cottage is really that old), Mr. Warehouse and I prepared to go home and back to reality and the following morning bid farewell to my Aunt and Uncles as we made the gruelling ten-hour trip back home to the 'Shire.
Indeed I enjoyed my trip to the Green Isle and back home I am now looking forward to my next adventure with the other half ... Maybe somewhere beach-ier though?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last weeks entry I was very much anticipating my Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour that evening however after a quick snack-a-roo en route to the stop in Dublin's City centre, Mr. Warehouse and I were saddened to hear the woops and roars of what appeared to be not one but two Hen Parties on board our tiny 30-something-seating double-decker bus. Now you guys know me, and after my messy Irish night out on the tiles with Mr. Warehouse I am never far from a party or two, but when your Hen Do is impacting on my ability to enjoy my last night on a romantic Ghost Bus Tour with my boyfriend who is shitting himself even before boarding said bus then we are really going to have a problem here!
Boarding the Bus and getting to know everyone on-board, being the day after Valentine's Day we were all asked who we were and where we came from. In-between dick jokes and more slanderous comments from the obtuse Hen Parties either end of the bus, the rest of us not partaking in the tom-foolery discovered that we had a very international bus load of anxiously scared passengers ranging from Italy, Canada, USA, Finland, Brazil, Germany and not to forget the Brummy and Liverpudlian Hen's - Of course they were from the part of England with the very worst of accents! Wondering if there was any possibility murder or sudden mysterious forces would force the chants and drunken "banter" to stop we commenced what would be an OK tour made worse by such inhabitants. Oh where was the Irish famine and Plague when you needed it!
Returning home that night and packing was nice as I knew in the morning after a glorious breakfast (of which it was) and a mooch around the shops, stopping at Pandora for the umpteenth time this trip we would be heading down to Callan, just outside Kilkenny on the borders of County Kilkenny and Tipperary in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland.
The journey by coach was long, a little over two-hours, but certainly shorter than going back the other way. Stepping out into the cold, wet rain of the tiny village I was waved over to a car that had come to collect Mr. Warehouse and I. Realising it was my Uncle I went to load our things into the car and get out of the rain. Heading along the winding roads I worried at how Mr. Warehouse and my Uncle would get along, especially since before Christmas at their first encounter with each other they had not got off to the best start. But I need not have worried for by the time we arrived at my Aunts Cottage twenty-minutes or so later they were getting on like they had known each other for years.
Settling in I helped with the dinner since my Auntie has never really liked cooking at the best of times, and besides, I had kind of missed it strangely. I suppose that is what eating out for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner does to your mind - Makes you needy for mash and cooking veg! Sitting down to dinner we chatted for hours and days even, continuously loop-talking about life in general and how to make the world a better place, righting all the wrongs back home in England with family, friends and colleagues as well as some important issues like trying to explain to my drunken Aunt and Uncle what a 'Gooch' is and what 'Teabagging' was in a context outside of the arts and crafts world.
The following days were spent mainly out of the area, visiting local points of interest and touring mainland Ireland. First outing was to Waterford, a small town renowned worldwide for its connection to Waterford Crystal alongside a fishing harbour, bordering County Kilkenny and Tipperary. I think I made the poor mistake of choosing a Latte when entering the Lily O'Brien's Chocolate Café. A mistake that right now I am regretting as Mr. Warehouse chose their luxury hot chocolate and after taking a sip I knew my coffee-infused decision, this time at least, was a bad one!
Second outing was one I was not fully committed to in the beginning, I will be honest, but afterwards was totally blown away and so very glad I was made to visit. Cahir Castle had stood in the little village of the same name had been standing there for over eight-hundred-years and as the rain drizzled I entered the courtyards and gardens of the small stone castle I fell in love instantly. In my head it was impossibly easy to imagine hiring the whole thing out for the day to host a wedding, where in my head I was the Princess Bride and Mr. Warehouse was the brave Knight. His dog could be dressed up to look like a gallant steed and I would try to resist putting Mother of the Groom in a Jester outfit. The lawns were perfect for my dream of vintage fair games like coconut shy's, candy-floss machines and hog roasts, whilst the great hall and 18th Century barn conversion would host 'Ye Olde Wedding Ceremony' and reception afterwards. Little rooms and outhouses provided perfect escapes for guests to explore the old ruins and make-believe for a day that we were all Kings and Queens. Upon my way out I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask so collared the guide-lady to ask about holding a wedding there - Obviously not for myself of course!? But alas you shall have to await as the venue does not currently hold a marriage licence yet and is only able to accommodate a blessing so I shall have to wait for my dreamy Irish castle wedding for another day - Well that and a time where I am actually asked to be someone's Bride!
Returning back to the cottage to help with firewood and the landscaping of a few garden areas in order to make way for oil/central heating to be put in (yes the cottage is really that old), Mr. Warehouse and I prepared to go home and back to reality and the following morning bid farewell to my Aunt and Uncles as we made the gruelling ten-hour trip back home to the 'Shire.
Indeed I enjoyed my trip to the Green Isle and back home I am now looking forward to my next adventure with the other half ... Maybe somewhere beach-ier though?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 15 February 2016
Having a Whale of a Time!
Hello there one and all from a strangely sunny Dublin?!
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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