A Crime-Scene in My Pants

Evening one and all, 

So after a long and stressful week I was certainly looking forward to the weekend and a much deserved bottle or two. Settling into the drivers seat outside TESCO as I prepared for the journey home, snacking on some ham since I had been hungry since missing my lunch that day. Suddenly walking past the front of my little Viv I noticed my Dad, and, clocking one another I was certainly glad for what ensued. Several hours later we had touched on many a subject including marriage, travelling and home buying, something until only recently I had sought some professional advice about. I think that everything last week had seemed like a challenge and that I wasn't going anywhere and that getting to where I wanted to be, especially on the property ladder, seemed out and out so un-achievable unless I came into a great deal of money or spent the next decade saving. Seeing Dad was lovely and the heart to heart conversations was what I severely missed in my relationship with him. Pop's probably doesn't even realise it but our meeting was really cathartic and meant a great deal to me, even if it was unplanned. 

Seeing Family over the weekend also cheered me up no end, especially my cousins. Aged eleven and twelve, both boys are starting to learn about the world and how it works, and during the course of Saturday I was taught the difference between all the difference levels of Cannabis on the spectrum of hallucinogenics and how these days, schools tend not to bother with the whole banana and condom trick. Oh no! Kids nower days are given full blown Dildo's (And yes my cousin did shout the word dildo several times in the middle of Costa Coffee) and made to put a condom on. The world has come a long way since 2001 I thought. 

Back in the day the lad's and ladies were separated in order to learn about their bodies, but we were never shown or taught what the other had to endure. Ergo, we had the era of the period jokes and a crude fascination with the opposite sex. I would have loved to be a fly on a wall in that room, hearing all about inappropriate boners and what semen contains. I suppose as a boy is may have been equally interesting listening into tits and fannies for half hour every Thursday afternoon. 

In this time frame all the girls were handed a booklet about our body and how it changes in preparation for periods and the eventuality of childbirth. This was my actual nightmare beginning. I hated,  and still do, talking about periods openly. It is something private and whilst every women aged fifteen to fifty does it I still feel a twinge of cringe when I open up about bleeding 'downstairs'. I don't laugh and period puns and can hardly stand it buying tampons or pads, forcing them through the self-scan at TESCO like some strange lady with a weird body function to hide. Its embarrassing - Both being so ashamed of it and actually having to put up with altering your life for however many days in the month. I am lucky in a way that I never suffered at the hands of cramping or major mood swings like some of my friends in the playground, however I think every girl will admit to remembering those dark days when you didn't know how to manage it. Spills, accidents and leaks were something I loathed but in a way I was grateful because it meant that someday I could have my own children and in  way I have now come to accept that it is something natural and normal. 

I will still try to hide away when someone reminds me of that scene in a Rom-Com somewhere, I think its called 'No Strings Attached' (which is ironically funny when I tell you where this is going). Ashton Kutcher (love of my life) makes a period mix-tape and brings round cupcakes for all his Bae's friends, including one friend who describes her period as "A Crime-Scene in My Pants". On this mix-tape including old favourites such as Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis, Red Red Wine by UB40 and The Tide Is High by Atomic Kitten (or Blondie, if your so inclined). As cringe as that was it does go on and the full track listing can be found online. Cute, cringe and bile-inducing all at the same time is hard, but somehow Ashton nails it ... And me if he is in Bedford any time soon!

Back in the classroom the time soon comes when both the classes were combined, adding to the social awkwardness, both for students and teachers alike. Settling an unruly class is one thing, but trying in-vain to teach them about the birds and the bees was another, and so most teachers at my small town Middle School chose to simple put in a VHS they had recorded from a teachers Satellite channel in the late, late hours (Yes I did just say VHS). 

But I must confess that in the whole history of me being in school, both middle and high, the majority if not all of the things I learnt and picked up weren't from phallic shaped fruits or dodgy home-recorded videos, It was from friends (Miss Tweedle-Dee deserves a shut out here as my main provider of such material and knowledge), late night babe channels and sadly porn. I think that teaching kids younger about what is right and wrong in relationships is and can only be a good thing. Starting them off young, telling them about the Pant Rule and showing them about how good relationships work is crucial in bringing down the number of Rapes, teen and unwanted pregnancies as well as STI's and non-abusive relationships. It can only get better and as on the continent shows that good things come from starting them off early with preventative education and serious chats about well-being. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

"We'll Have Time" They Said ...

Hello, 

When I was younger and my grandparents had just retired I asked them about what wonderful things they were going to do now they were officially old. Fart in public and not give a toss? Snoozing whilst watching Countdown? Drinking copious amounts of wine until you get so hammered you start to talk like Danny 'fucking' Dyer. It in all fairness was a mixture of all of the above but when I grew up and asked them what the worst thing about getting old was my Nanny Pumpkin replied this ... 

"When your young you don't think fashion it too much; A pair of comfy jeans here, cosy jumper there, maybe even a stunning ballgown once or twice in a lifetime. But the older you get the more and more you seem to have no choice but to reach into the wardrobe and bring out that same black dress you wore last time you went to say goodbye to someone you knew who is no longer there,"

In all fairness at the tender age of about fourteen I didn't full understand what she meant by that but as I have got a little older, and maybe a little wiser too, I have learnt that it is truest thing and as sure as anything it is what I will be doing tomorrow for a character no one will forget. 

Phone ringing again for the third time I wondered why, after all this time of being in a new job, Mr. Warehouse still insists to call me about three-in-the-afternoon once he has finished work. Ignoring it previously thinking it was simply about dinner or where I have hidden something of his, this time I dashed to the toilet in order to take the call. 

"Whats up you know I cant answer at work?" I asked, concerned yet anxious I had a lot of work to get back to. 

"Its my Mom's Cousin. He's been in a car accident, Its really bad. He's Dead!" I heard sheepishly down the phone. Thinking it was a joke I called my boyfriend sick and told him to stop messing around tempting fate and all. But he said it again and this time it was deeper and more choked than the last. 

For legal reasons we cant state too much but what we do know is that it was a collision involving a lorry and several cars, one of which we are under the impression that the driver was over the drink drive limit (as if there should even fucking be one that is). I will never understand sometimes why people still to this day continue to put other peoples lives at risk, and I say other peoples for a reason and that is in most cases the drink driver is so floppy and intoxicated that their bodies do not tense and seize up as a normal person would when bracing for a car crash. 

But unlike most families (Or maybe not as my family is quite small) Mr. Warehouse and his family on both his mothers and fathers sides like to breed and with this comes children who will be brothers, sisters, cousins, second cousins, aunts and uncles, all very close in both age and as a group. Cousins and second cousins are more like extensions of brothers and sisters or aunts and uncles for Mr. Warehouse and his family and what with them being so close they experience everything from celebrating the good times to mourning the bad ones too, everybody as one riding out the roller-coaster together. 

Standing there in the bathroom at work, my thoughts immediately turned to his wife and children, grown up now but forever his babies. It had only been eighteen-months or so ago that the deceased and his wife had got married. It was one of the first family events I ever went too as Mr. Warehouse's girlfriend and it was the very first wedding I had been invited to. Nervous after reading the invite I shook it off and said it was silly we had only been dating a few months, I couldn't be invited to such a thing and be in all the photos, What if Mr. Warehouse and I were to break up? That would be awful then, you have some random in all your snaps. No thanks?! But nevertheless I came round to the idea and even was asked up to be in the photographs, albeit I was approached as Mr. Warehouse's Wife, something we all still laugh about today. I will never forget both the Bride and the recently departed Groom's hospitality, making me fell welcome and loved even though I was surrounded by many I never knew. 

Mr. Warehouse's Second -Cousin was more like an Uncle to him, taking him fishing or to play pool and darts but every time I met him and his wife, they would be forever asking when mine and Mr. Warehouse's big day was and always complimenting me on how beautiful and lovely I was. I remember them saying how sad it is that they both had to go through failed marriages to meet each other and if only they had fallen in love sooner they could have had more time, but it was always ended by a notion that they have the rest of their lives with each other. And that is the truly saddest part, is that they didn't. A devastating irony. 

Sitting back at my desk trying to take it all in I was really emotional and upset by it and they weren't even my family. I had met them a handful of times but their energy and enthusiasm for everything including each other was just electric. And now that was gone. I could not think of anything more that they were the same ans Mr. Warehouse and I. Ready for Christmas (at the time less than a five-days away) with presents wrapped, stockings packed and plans all made. Plans that would never be fulfilled and with stockings and presents that were never to be emptied and unwrapped. All gone. And so tomorrow I will attend Gorfield Village Church to pay my respects for a man who could never believe I was a Luton girl through and through. Goodnight and sleep tight!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

And the Award for the Most Productive Weekend with A Hangover Goes to ...

Top of the marning all, 

Pheew! And party the weekend away I did! But strangely I have had a very productive weekend also. You see it all started on Thursday when, after work I headed into Town on my way home from work, stressful and as tiring as it always is, and went to get my nails done. Nearly an hour later, glossy glittery nails had befallen my finger tips and as I booked in my next appointment in February I knew that by then I would be very excited indeed at the prospect of being pampered once again! Trenching out into the blustery cold, wind and rain of a December night I picked up a few accessories from New Look and headed back home to Mr. Warehouse with Fish and Chips in toe to loosen the mood he was in after I had been shopping for several hours! Snuggling down in front of the Telly we leisurely wasted the next few hours on crap TV and takeaway before heading to bed for what I can only describe as some very heated moments between the sheets. 

Friday morning I awoke and with my day off commencing with me lazy on the sofa in the lounge whilst Mr. Warehouse slept in I lost track of the time and rushed around to get ready for our day of relaxation and pampering before the moon rose and the stars came out to play. First on the agenda was a Full Body Massage booked in for myself and Mr. Warehouse. Now my dear Mr. Warehouse had never had a massage before (Well apart from that one time ... Anyway) and so as a anniversary treat I had booked him in with my Bi-Monthly rub-down. In preparation for the nights antics to follow I thought it would be a good idea, although now Mr. Warehouse does not think so much. A few 'Ohhs', 'Owws' and knots later finally we were freed and allowed to get dressed and discuss the treatments on a whole which for me was relaxing, but not with the other half in the room. Hmm, Honeymoon bliss by the beach, I think not. Next time I am advising myself to spa and Massage alone. 

After we hit some shops for some last minute gifts we headed to a local 'posh' hotel for some Festive Afternoon Tea. Service as before was not the greatest and despite my desperate attempts to make it right in my head and justify the lack of staffing errors I couldn't help but succumb to the fact that it was simply a beautifully looking five-star appearing hotel, running a two-star service. 

Dashing back home in enough time I managed (Somehow) to get ready in less than two-hours and was ready, waiting for the cab to collect us at seven-thirty. After a few moments my phone rang and after several minutes of explaining to the cab driver that he was at the wrong address - Twice?! - He finally turned up, albeit nearly twenty-minutes late. Arriving at the venue Mr. Warehouse and I skipped inside out of the cold chill of the night. But as we walked in I saw no faces I knew. Other works Christmas parties were already settled down and in there seats but my friendly work family were no-where to be seen. 
"Maybe they're in the Bar next door" Mr. Warehouse ushered as we headed for the toilets. But as Mr. Warehouse sped into the gents I was greeted with a big hello from everyone as they came through from the Bar to the Restaurant areas. Kissing and hugging everyone as they walked passed in a possession line of familiar work colleagues I felt as though I was at a very fast paced wedding, greeting guests on their arrival. 

Soon Mr. Warehouse was by my side and I was thoughtful that a year ago I graced this same wood floor only to have known Mr. Warehouse for a few short months and been dating him for less than that. Now a year on, I sat across from him with all our friends, and some of them Mr. Warehouse's family, enjoying a pretend Christmas Dinner and pulling crackers with people we spoke to most days. I was in my element and enjoying every moment of it. After the meal was finished I took the opportunity to get up and mingle. Quite frankly I was sick and tired of being stuck in a limbo between to ends of a conversation and with no way of getting out due to seating arrangements placing my by a damn door. Nevertheless I saw my moment when a lady next to me went to the bathroom and I bolted to the nearest table I saw Champagne. Turned out to be my boss and Sales Reps table in which they were all highly invested in a conversation about Christmas Dinner, that was until little old me and my low cut dress came along and wet more than just their appetite for a over-elaborate Sunday Roast. 

As usual the evening ensued with my Sales Reps glancing more than necessary at my open chest, a few sexist and sexual remarks from engineers and a whole host of people taking the royal piss out of the money allocated for everyone behind the bar. Four-Hundred-Pounds spanked on booze for admittedly everyone, but some got more than others which frankly I thought was wrong and next year I plan at least to take more advantage of it than my measly two-ciders and a glass of Prosecco. 

Ordering cabs and heading into town I had the most hilariously awkward and sexual conversation with my two Sales Reps and Mr. Warehouse I have ever experienced and something that whilst at the time seemed funny, now just fills me with anxiety and absolute embarrassment, although is still as I look back on it, very funny. It started out with me running to the Cab with Mr. Warehouse and my two sales reps behind me and I simply asked Mr. Warehouse if he had picked up my heels to which he said he had. The following Taxi journey I spent apologising to the poor Cabbie and explaining to everyone, including the driver that "Yes, sometimes a women must ditch all attempts at gardening and simply patio over the luscious foliage to keep one's downstairs in tacked."

More hilarious moment soon caught up as we headed to a local Nightclub in town and spent most the evening on the dance floor. Even my Big-Big Boss was seen throwing some odd shapes to songs which included the 'N' word too much for my liking. But I soon saw that Mr. Warehouse was not up for dancing all night and to be honest it got kind of same-y and boring. So at ten-past-three on Saturday morning we called it a night, collected my shoes and bag from the cloakroom and headed home, but not before a stop off at Subway to pick up Breakfast and what turned out to be lunch the next day. All in all the Annual Works Office Christmas Party wasn't, in my mind, as good as last year but I suppose the nostalgia of it being my first year with the company, having so much to drink I was plastered by the time the starters came out and being around everyone I loved and cared so much for I don't know now if any year can top that one!? We'll have to wait and see though. 

Saturday itself was a very lazy day as I myself was the one who lied-in until gone midday, only to get up and move to the sofa-bed, already pulled out and occupied by that lovely Mr. Warehouse. Sunday was more productive though and after heading to town for a few super last minute bits, Mr. Warehouse and I spent the next seven hours straight wrapping Christmas Presents. I think I am an athlete at this now. I declare it as a sport of choice for the holiday season and as such I would like to crown myself queen of Sellotape and matching tags to paper with my specialist subject being the difficult wrappers! I did it. We did it! Only to realise moment later than in just a few days, under a week now, that wrapping paper and all my hard work with twirling, swirling, wrapping, sticking, popping and bow making will have all been a waste. Ahhh, what a way to spend the weekend, Eh?

So I suppose I won't speak to you now until the big man has come down my chimney and emptied his sack all over my Daddy's front room (No pun intended - Honest!). And to think that next time I write it may be of getting a Puppy or a Car or maybe even something better!? 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

My Big Fat Greek Holiday!

Good evening all, 

And so I am back from my travels yet again, this time to Kavos on the Greek Island of Corfu for those that did not read along last week - Naughty Naughty! And what a week it has been; There has been Holiday Hotties, Ocean Occurrences and Bathroom Bust-ups, but all has been in good taste. 

Last week I wrote about the journey to our holiday apartments and how they were much nicer than the dreaded anticipation of a 2-star, out-of-season-getaway usually is. An improvement further to the situation was the hot barman whom looked very much like Mr. Grey 2015 himself - Jamie Dornan, of whom I am a big fan. However not as much as Miss Tweedle-Dee and after snapping a few secret pics of the poor bloke I started to question whether she was still into the female variety or not!? Nevertheless the holiday was good fun and for the first three or four days we just got up at whatever time we felt, going to the pool and alternated between there and quick trips to the sea/beach which as I said previously, would not have looked out of place in Clacton. 

On Wednesday we were invited to BBQ at the Hotel we were staying at by the Scottish owner and her gorgeous son and no word of a lie this was more of a BBQ than I think I have ever had. Steaks the size of my head and sausages the size of my arm, literally. So much food and such small bellies. But we took a keen interested in the cocktail list did Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I. Ordering as many cocktails as we could handle we chatted casually amongst other guests as we ate, laughed and enjoyed the company. Many a strange and jovial story was shared over the table that night and subject of conversation ranged from 'Very Hairy Ladies' to Poo, all of us throwing in our own anecdote or two for good measure. 

The following morning, with fuzzy heads we decided to get the local bus into Corfu Town, about a mile down the other end of the island to Kavos. We would have otherwise headed into Kavos but the fact that there was extremely little there to see and even less to do out of season was a reason to avoid it. Corfu Town however was lovely and I was unexpectedly pleased with how pretty the harbour areas looked. Big ships and cruise-liners stretched out along the shores and in the distance you could still make out mainland Greece. Little tug boats and small fishing vessels also littered the coast as we walked around paroozing the local shops and stalls for something to spend our pennies on. On arrival home that night back to the hotel I really felt as though I had bought well for my money and after bartering the price of a faux designer handbag and couple of pairs of sunnies I knew I had a good deal. A multitude of other items have been brought back with me from holiday however I am hasten to add that the majority of that is food. The coach journey back was long though and since it was a local bus and our hotel was down a dodgy dirt track, we knew we would not be dropped off anywhere nearby to where we needed. And so I took it upon myself that once close to the entrance to our hotel's road I would simply ask the driver to stop so we could get off. However in pitch black of nine-at-night, with Miss Tweedle-Dee's anxious predisposition and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's feeling rather travel sick I knew we were all relying on me to stop this thing! And so that is what I did. turning a corner I saw the bins we had previously hailed the bus down at that morning and so alerted the driver we would like to depart in the only way I knew how. 
"STOP! Stop the bus!" I yelled out loud as if I had some sort of undiagnosed bus Tourettes. Immediately the bus stopped dead in its bumbling tracks and allowed us to get off but not before the conductor asked us if we were sure. 
"Are you sure you want to get off here?" the Greek Conductor said questioningly in broken English, a look upon his face as if to say "there is nothing around here". I nodded and proceeded to help Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I off the bus. 

Friday we had opted for an excursion and much to our excitement it was yet again on a boat. Previous years holidays have seen The Tweedles and I embark on many a boat trip in our time from the glass-bottomed boat of 2013'S Trip to Majorca or maybe the Pedalo that existed in our first girls holiday in Fuerteventura. As we placed our towels in our bags and slipped into something easy over our bathing suits I wondered what ship would i be this time. I was hoping for a Kardashian styled Yacht although I am sorry to report that this was not the case as many many other people wanted to go on said trip and so a larger boat was required. Oh and I s had hoped for sunbathing on the bow! Getting on and getting a set was a dilemma and a half but once we spotted a little section on the starboard side we immediately took it and never left for fear of seat stealing. First stop was some scenic caves and coves that rumoured to belong to Poseidon, the Greek god of the ocean. In honour of us exploring Poseidon's cave dwellings we lived it up with a little boat party, music blaring and everyone on their feet clapping and dancing, I felt more on a Kavos holiday out at sea than I ever did in the small town of Southern Corfu. Next stop however I was very much looking forward to - Some of the clearest waters in the world off the coast of a small island called Paxo. Clear water as see-through as a swimming pool was warm and deep but forever and gloriously turquoise in colour. It felt as though I was in the Caribbean with water so clear. But as I approached the Stern of the boat, bikini clad and in all my slightly tanned glory I asked the question - Can I just jump off?

Crazy as it sounds I wanted to do it. I was scared as I was greeted with a Greek smile and a helping hand to the edge of the boat. Standing on the edge of the boat, legs on the opposite side of safety I looked back to see if the girls were filming and taking pictures. If I couldn't have my Kardashian styled Yacht I might as well have a styled out photo showing me having the time of my life. Nervous of the jump I looked back towards the blue hues of the ocean and took a deep breath before I simply stepped off the edge. A scream, a heart-stopping drop and a salt water plunge into the blue later and I resurfaced. Everybody on the boat was now looking at me! "Mission Accomplished" I thought, although as a huge Titanic enthusiast I wondered that if I was scared at that relatively short jump and plunge into warm and clear waters, I could only imagine what it was like in April 1912 when hundreds of people had little choice but to make that same move from a far higher standing Titanic into the below-freezing temperatures of the black Atlantic. 

I was joined soon after in the warm waters by my Tweedles, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb although after loosing my cherished and much loved flower headband to the sea and swimming frantically to get away from the suction under the boat I had inadvertently given myself an asthma attack and with no inhaler or medication on-board I was scared. Swimming constantly and desperate to catch a breath of air and not salty sea water caught me off guard and only exacerbated the situation more. Slowing down I tried to keep calm as Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb took the safe bet of just using the boats steps to get into the clear sea. Petrified I tried not to make a fuss but was secretly struggling to gain breath and to swim against the current. So it didn't help when Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were about to get run over by another bigger tourist ship coming into dock. After attempting to swim out to the sandy beach which seemed a lot closer than it was Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were accepting to the fact that we just were not going to make it there and back in time before our ship left. However when a liner slightly bigger than ours drops anchor meters from us and with the suction of now several ships in the areas trying to drag us back under water I mustered up what little strength I had left to swim back against the currents to our ship. 

Back on board we dried off and headed to our final stop, a small, very French Rivera looking harbour where we had a chance to have a bite to eat, albeit surrounded by sickly-looking stray cats, and a quick look around the shops there before heading back home to the hotel. 

For the rest of the holiday we chilled out, relaxed and looked forward to going back home to Blighty. I am much glad I am at home now, although not so sure I will be drinking the water in foreign countries any-more as all I have seen of my flat since landing has been my bathroom. Welcome Home eh?! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx