Rub-A-Dub-Dub in my little Hot-Tub!

Hiya, 

So it would seem that with less than 100-days to go until myself and Mr. Warehouse Jet off on holiday to Sunny Tenerife I am thoroughly looking forward to the fact that I can lay on the beach drinking cocktails and eat out for every meal. Anyone who knows me will know that holidays are exactly what I want to do in my spare time and with any spare cash, and whilst I have switched jobs in the last year it would appear that money is still an issue when it comes to holidaying. 

Normally it would happen that Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I organise a holiday during the summer months and Mr. Warehouse and I just have to make do in trying to get away at some other point throughout the year. But this year is different, for I am not really able to afford more than one holiday this year especially a big one. With my living expenses increasing after passing my test and getting a car, even with the change in career and more money coming in, I am envious and a tad jealous of my work colleagues that are able to Jet off to far away countries like the Caribbean and Mexico for annual holidays more than just once a year. But I suppose in retrospect if I was still living at home and had little outgoings then I also would be travelling the world. Who knows maybe I would be one of those pretentious posh kids from a middle class military background family that would swan off to Africa or somewhere out in Asia on some sort of gap Year from university in order to "find myself", 

Anyway, for some odd reason this year it seems like much more of a struggle to save the money for spending on Mr Warehouse and my first beach holiday abroad. if I'm honest with myself I slightly regret the fact that we did not book somewhere a little bit more upper class. For Mr Warehouse I am sure that it will be amazing even if we were living in a Mud Hut for a week since his last holiday abroad to a beach resort was his brother's stag do a few years ago. They have been married for over 4-years I think and have a little boy who this weekend, just turned three, I honestly don't know what I would do if I couldn't go on holiday every year - I think I would go insane! Mind you I always class a holiday as something outside of your normal environment. A breakaway to an English seaside resort - Holiday! Visiting family in Southern Ireland - Holiday! Going to see your best friend in Basingstoke for the weekend - OK certainly not a holiday but definitely a break away from the norm. 

Looking back on it now, I am slightly regretful at the fact that Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I never booked anywhere to go away abroad just me and them. But it was their decision that this year we would scrap the summer holiday all in aid of a hot tub weekend, with champagne on ice and lots of giggles and laughter to be had all of it set in the beauty that is the old English country-side. Set in woodland slap-bang in between Bury St Edmunds, Ipswich and Lowestoft; Laxfield Lodges with a hot tub and Scenic outdoor views is certainly going to take the edge off not being able to be on a beach with the besties!

I shouldn't say too much as this time next week I will have a lot to say about what my weekend entailed and look forward to telling you all about one of the last and final time we will all be together. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Material Girl

Hi everyone, 

So last week we heard some extracts from my Diary as a Teenager, something I like to think of as the beginnings of my writing career, if you can even call it that. I have decided that on the odd occasion I am going to share some more of my prepubescent ideas and philosophies with you all as I think that they are both hilarious and ridiculous. Let me know if you would like to hear more from Little 'Baby Moi'!

So this week I had a old friend from college write to me about some issues he was having with his group of lads and how whilst he knew in himself he was being silly and jealous of the situation he found himself in he still couldn't shake these feelings of insecurity and anxiety surrounding him and the circle of friends he was in. Honoured that he thought of coming to me I tried to comfort him in a way that would make sense of the situation and allow him to come to his own determinations on what to do. But this got me thinking about jealousy and insecurity with myself. 

Now its a rare thing (Some would say even more rare than rocking-horse shit) that I am one of those girls that is always whining about being too fat, too thin, too short, too tall. I am in most respects happy with my body but there are many hundreds upon thousands of things that people get jealous and anxious over. For example; I am at one with my body and love it for all the amazing things it helps me to do everyday even though I despise its wobbles every time I step into the changing rooms of the local High Street Stores. The fact I am far from the size I was in High School makes me doubt in myself sometimes, making me a timid, quiet mouse from my usual grand, Lioness self. With body anxiety and problems surrounding appearances and aesthetics comes the feelings of low self esteem and the desperate longing for something that is in many cases unobtainable immediately. A full bust, tiny waist and curvy silhouette is what every girl wants and whilst some have it, others don't and to get something even close to what is deemed perfect by most peoples eyes is either with a knife, drugs or with a whole heap of hard work, many of us choosing the first options over sweating like a pig at the gym. 

For some people however it is about the material things in life rather than a cracking body, shiny hair or flawless skin. Money talks but so do people and the more money, power or fame someone has the more other people envy them. I can also be very materialistic and whilst I think that this has improved a lot since I was younger I know it is still a mammoth part of who I am. I know that in many ways the lifestyle I want for my future will never be something I can realistically achieve alone. I will need a hard working partner in crime with a good job and and a salary to match. As for myself I want to be a high earner. I want to afford my children a holiday every year to somewhere exciting. I want them aged twelve or thirteen to be enrolled in one of the best private schools that the local areas has to provide and to come home to a wonderfully decorated and well-maintained home, complete with all mod-cons. I want a nice shiny car and Christmases to be filled with presents, family and laughter. But I know in some respects that mine and my husbands combined income would have to be in the region of £50,000.00 per year. 

I know in myself feel that, as with the last section and the one before that, I can be arrogant, selfish and egotistical one moment and the next being completely insecure in my body and how I look. Same being with finances, money and material items, I can be wanting of a long list of lustful items, not realising how lucky I am to have what I already possess. 

But it should never really matter about these thing should they? We all should be so very grateful for what we have, besides whilst there are some people above us on the food chain that have much, much more that you or I, there are also some people that have nothing at all. And as I close off this week I leave with you a thought that here in Bedfordshire, the lush and somewhat affluent areas of the Home Counties, as it rains intermittently, there are still people with no home to go to. No family or friends to confide in or seek advice. No food to settle their growling bellies. No money to buy new shoes. Nothing. We all should be thankful for what we have. You never know how close you are from slipping down that life ladder ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Silly Head and A Silly Phone Call ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Evening Everybody, 

So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice. 

"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there. 

One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again. 

Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese! 

Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship! 

By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'! 

Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but 

Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment. 

I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx