Blast From The Past!

Hello there, 


Sushi. Is. Life. After the past year maybe of eating shop faux Sushi made from a combination of chicken and seafood, I have finally made the leap to a mainstream sushi bar. Yo! Sushi in Milton Keynes is I am sure probably farthest from genuine and authentic and Asian or Japanese influenced cuisine, however without the luxury of the big smoke to indulge my curiosities in I was forced to seek out as close to the real thing as I can get my little mitts on, Cali-rolls and Spice-Tuna-Things for the win! 

To say that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Miss Tweedle-Dee and it was good to try new things whilst doing my favourite thing with my wages and in my preferred method or socialising, eating out. I am not quite sure what made me feel so good about sushi and hanging out with my best friend - Maybe it was the delight of combining my two favourite things or maybe it was the fact that I was feeling much better in myself. A a good catch up and long chat about anything and everything life had to offer us at the moment was certainly what I needed. Whilst my counselling and therapy has stopped for the short time whilst I am between therapists and Private Vs. NHS, I am taking my medication which seems to be doing it's job. 

Not long before we finished our meal and headed home I approach the subject that I had been wanting to bring up for a while. I felt as though my Tweedles were about the only people I could talk openly and honestly about how I felt without being judged or criticised. Not even Mr. Warehouse would understand I think?! You see waaay back in the days of short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner, there was one of the first Mr's in my life. Mr. Woof. Now let me introduce Mr. Woof to you all, (unless you have been reading along since the beginning and then you will already know who Mr. Woof well and truly is from the Viewer Discretion / NSFW earlier days of writing). 

Mr. Woof and I had been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In class and the playground, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were with me, even being seen around each other was a no-no, but away from it all and what I used to refer to as the "spotlight" he was a completely different person, almost caring or even loving in a way, something that was never shown when around others. As we got older the intensity was stepped up with more secret meets at lunch and break, soon progressing to after school and even into our Saturday morning GCSE revision classes. But the more we played with each other, both metaphorically and emotionally the more I suffered. The double life we both lead between not talking to each other and almost bullying each other whilst in the company of friends and others was a stark comparison to the electricity we shared alone. But I knew what I was doing, course I did, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The secret little affair with the boy who I had a stupidly major crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Yeah, I definitely thought I knew it all (and probably still do) thinking that it will all be so different when we leave High School and go to Sixth Form or College, we can finally be together! Haha what a fool ... 

After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners, settling down with a few serious ones who loved me no matter the company we were in. Whereas Mr. Woof attempted university, dropped out only to discovered drink and drugs all the while continuing to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Over the years he turned into something of a misogynistic womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin around town. Nevertheless though Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him and we were always strictly friends when I was in a relationship as being faithful has always been something I fiercely uphold after some hiccups in my earlier years of teenage-living and my fathers betrayal. 

Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had and at that moment the friendly voice of someone familiar was just what I craved. At the time I was amidst a messy break-up Miss Tweedle-Dee handed me the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. I. Was. Hooked. I couldn't put them down, like everyone I suppose. I decided then to embark on something of my own contract. We had come a long way from my Teenage Dreams Days and so after getting back in contact, Mr. Woof and I began another momentary lapse of loosing our inhibitions and giving into our lustfulness for something we knew so well. Only this time I had some level of control. I had just come out of a long term relationship and wanted something intimate, exciting and confidence boosting. Something NSA to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy days. I suppose in a sense he was the rebound?! When I talk about it like that it seems as though Mr. Woof was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend who was dealing with heartbreak. But I was as much to blame in that as he was. I wanted and needed attention.  I was lacking it both in my job as well as socially as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted and we weren't hurting anyone. 

After sometime however the novelty soon wore off and we again drifted apart, not through Malice or animosity but simply due to life moving off. Over the next few years of difficult dating dilemmas and finally finding someone I really care about I will be honest and say that I thought about Mr Woof less and less. Until that is the other day when I stumbled across an old social media page. I had seen his profile picture and was intrigued to see what he was up to and we had both changed. I knew that he had got married and settle down with some plain-Jane type. I was certainly not prepared for what was to come. 

Clicking the pages on his social media I discovered that not only had he propose and dedicated his life in marriage, but that he now had a child. Knocking me sideways I was taken aback. I don't know, it is not that I am jealous of his wife and young family, far from it and if anything I am glad that he has found his calling in life as a Dad. Maybe it was the fact that in all of our time together, on or off, we had never discussed marriage or kids, even if the intention was not each other. Then again he is a man and they do not tend to discuss marriage for kids as women do. It is just a little surreal for me to think that someone I thought would never even get married or settle down with anyone is now a father and husband. Oh how things change I suppose. 

It has been playing on my mind a lot over the last few days since finding out last week and I just can't put my finger on it. But as I explained in depth and detail, more than I have here to you, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me with a strange expression played across her face as the sushi Carousel continue unknowingly. She didn't need to tell me twice that I was sounding weird and creepy. I came away from our short and brief conversation about Mr. Woof and his family with a heaviness in my heart knowing that time is inevitably ticking along and will soon catch up with me if I am not careful and seeing someone I knew happy makes me feel a little weird about adulting now in the real world. Ahhh someone take me back to the simpler days of Emo bands, short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Carried For A Moment, Loved For A Lifetime!

Hiya!

The weekend was certainly going well and started back on Friday evening when I was told by my Personal Trainer that I have exceeded all expectations and lost a further twelve-centimeters off my waist this week, along with many more inches lost elsewhere. Over the moon with the results of the last few weeks hard work I got back into my little Orange car and called someone who I knew would be glad to hear from me. Dominos! Yes I admit I fell off the wagon slightly and ordered pizza for Mr. Warehouse and I, collecting it as I drove home in glee. 

Saturday morning I woke early to kindly take Mr. Warehouse in for his early morning shift working overtime. Aren't I such a nice girlfriend! But despite my dawn rise, I still came home and fell right back into bed slumbering until mid-morning. Meeting my Nanny Pumpkin in the horrid weather for a spot of lunch and a walk round some Museum's in Bedford we talked about all sorts as we normally would, touching upon how my poorly grandfather was and how she is yet to become a great-grandma. 

Fast forward a few hours and I was out of the cold and wet, instead sat round the glass coffee table, enjoying a bottle of wine and laughing along at some NSFW material games I got for Christmas. I was certainly enjoying some much deserved Girlie time with my besties, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who was up from Basingstoke for the weekend. The luxury this time was that Miss Tweedle-Dee's Brother and family were away for the weekend and as such had a Puppy to look after. A bonus in itself you may think, and rightfully so it would be ... Had it not been for the steaming Hot Tub outside! After a dip we came back inside to warm up and dry off, settling down to watch some YouTubers and Vloggers I had never heard of. Then in the fits of giggles I recognized a familiar face. It was none other that an old school friend of mine, Lorraine Mulrooney. Her Mousey complexion and timid voice had not changed since our classroom days and I was pleased to hear that she was doing well. Or not as the case may seem. 

Watching a Video uploaded only recently it started with tears and in it was captioned something about an update on life so far, or something like that. I was devastated  to hear that despite all the wonderful things that has happened in her life since our last encounter - Meeting a wonderful guy it seems, having a little girl and starting what appears to be a successful YouTube channel things were not good. Listening to the heartbreak as she described in emotional detail the reasoning for the tears I wondered how much pain one person can endure. It was a video that sadly described the terrible loss that miscarriage brings to not only the women carrying the child but also the whole family. Not one or even two but five lost babies this women had experienced, all of them with little or no explanation. 

In the UK miscarriage is the most common complication with any pregnancy with an estimated quarter-of-a-million babies and fetuses lost each year. Medical studies show that between fifteen and twenty percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage in the first twelve weeks. But even when you are past the all important first and even second trimester, you are still not out of the woods just yet. One in every two-hundred babies born in the UK are stillborn and figures state that it is fifteen times more common that cot death. And yet no-one knows a definitive answer as to why this keeps happening to would-be parents up and down the UK. 

I cannot even begin to understand or even imagine what a women must go through to see those little lines on a pregnancy test to all of a sudden it being snatched away from you. All the thoughts and feelings you had. All the dreams and hopes for the future. What they would look like, what they would be like. All gone. You will never find out if they had their Daddies nose or even if they inherited your mothers stubbornness. Forever guessing what they would be like as a teenager and wondering what sort of person they will grow into. All of this disappearing almost as if it never existed. I can't fathom what it would take to go through the loss of a pregnancy and all it brings let alone having to bring a sleeping bairn into the world so cruel enough to not let you meet. 

I have yet to experience anything close to motherhood and pray that when I finally get to the point in my life where children would be nice that its journey to my arms is safe and hope that I never have to experience what some amazing women in my life as well as old school pals have had to ensure. But one thing stands out in all these women and that is there incredible ability to sweep it under the carpet, hiding it from all to see. Ladies it is your grief and you should not be ashamed or shy of it. Don't hide it, bring it out into the open and lets talk about your beautiful gift, stolen too soon. Lets cry and hug it out because whilst you will never "get over it" as some people might encourage you to do, life will adjust accordingly and because we are strong together and we will heal, little by little and piece by piece. 

Anyone who is suffering right now and feels like they want to chat, either to me (not that I may be very much help of course) or to a professional, please feel free to speak out and try some of the wonderful organisations who specialize in Miscarriage, Stillborn and lost pregnancies such as Sands, The Miscarriage Association and Tommy's. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Life Lessons From My Step-Dog

Hiya, 

So here I am on a Monday evening following a fairly low-key weekend attempting to write for you all but being distracted by simply how cute and playful my step-pooch is. Switching between writing and playing with the 8-year-old Blonde Labrador I struggle not to feel completely overwhelmed when I look at her little face. 

The funny thing is that as I said before, she is not even my dog, not really anyway. I met Pooch when Mr. Warehouse introduced me to her in the Autumn of 2014. It was love at first sight with a friendship that would only get stronger with time. She has learnt to trust me and accept that I, along with her doggy-dad, we mean business. Over the course of the last two-and-a-half-years, the fluff-ball and I have shared secrets and plans with one another - OK mainly me telling her all my plans, secrets and surprises. But strangely she has also been there for me. In times of absolute joy as well as despair, pooch has been the one I have thought of most. When I failed my driving test she was the one I came home too disappointed to tell her. When I passed my driving exam the second time around I couldn't wait to get home if only to share in the news that our adventures would not be restricted by public transport. And when I had to make the tough decision about leaving the workplace I loved so dearly, she was the one I talked things through with. 

You see this is something that some of you might not understand and not in an ignorant way, but especially so if you have never owned a dog. I am not stupid, I get that the pup can't understand me and is just a simple animal, domesticated over years in order to satisfy the human race in many different forms. Of course the dog is not able to have deep discussions about what is the right move up the career ladder, nor what financial decisions need to be made. I would laugh if they did for I am almost certain that our entire household budget would be spent on dog-treats and balls. But on a more serious not they feel you, and what you are experiencing, far better than a cat could do. Dogs sense when their owners are ill or upset, and comfort you when feeling blue. They are always happy to see you and are something that you are solely responsible for. 

I wonder if parents feel the same way? The need to care and look after something that is so much more precious and fragile than yourself. Even though she is nearly fifty in dog years, she certainly does not let her age get her down and goes around her daily business acting as though she is still a puppy. Her little quirks and personality traits certainly makes for good company and I am forever imagining what kind of fun we could have if she was able to talk and tell me what she is really thinking instead of me commentating her little world in a deep and course male voice. I don't know why ... It just comes out like that in my head?!

It is sometimes so overwhelming I feel like crying, and I am not ashamed to say that on the odd occasion I have. I could easily watch her for years just sleeping, as a mother with her newborn, many a time choosing to gaze over Mr. Warehouse's Pup rather than watch whatever is on the box. When she is asleep she is at ease with the world and dreaming of all the wonderful things in a dogs life. Chasing cats just to play with them, millions of tennis balls and sticks I am sure litter every pup's dreams, but for our little one I am sure that eating ice-cream on a warm day, cuddling on the sofa with a film and having adventures with Mr. Warehouse and I are all at her disposal when she is in the land of nod. 

This weekend felt like a proud moment for Mr. Warehouse and I as we took the furball down to the local country park, one of many that surrounds Bedford. Down to the soft gravelly beach we went alone on the shore as the weather swelled. Entering the lake our pooch got stronger and stronger with each toss of her favourite tennis ball. The braver she got the further out she went until eventually we saw what we had waited for. Little paws paddling towards the shore. She was swimming. A proud moment considering her age and what she had been through the last few months with her Pyometra and Hysterectomy operation. I thought to myself as I looked at the little wet face in front of me, big brown eyes begging me for one more go in the cool water "There was a point I didn't think you were gonna make it pup". 

I would like to think that one day, when I have my own babies, that I would be able to look back on the beginnings of my little family with Mr. Warehouse and know that pooch, albeit playful, sleepy and bolshy all at the same time sometimes; She would have taught me all the things I need to be as a parent. Patience. Compromise. Discipline. Leadership. Ownership. Fun. Friendship. Compassion. Caring. Loving. All these life skills you have taught me pup, and I am forever grateful. Hopefully, despite your later years in life, you will be there to welcome home my babies one day and show them the same toothy smile you showed me all those many moons ago dear friend. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Depp Is A Way of Life!

Hello one and all, 

As Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sat on my sofa I listened intently to my childhood being read out in a technicolour of smelly gel pens and biro. It was funny to look back and realize just how warped myself and my best friends were back in the day. And so it continued into the afternoon listening to the letters that were sent to and from each other, silly poems and made up stories about Johnny Depp. 

Speaking of the fellow, I still have hidden somewhere in the depths under my bed a ring-binder full of fan fiction stories written about Johnny Depp and the myriad of characters he played over the years. Romantic novels almost and crime fighting tales, drug deals and passion a plenty. I must say though that some of the visions and creative writing that took place on these online forums was very graphic, even for a twenty-something reading them for the first time in more than a decade. Some stories touched on the most taboo of subjects whilst others are bordering a film script. 

Beautiful as they were it was a time where things were much less complicated, or so we all thought. Alas I wonder and dream of the days back in middle school where all you really had to worry about was what you were seeing at the cinema that weekend or how long you had to plan your outfit for the next Mufti Day. As a pre-teen, I was completely oblivious to the complicated and stressful big wide world that I would one day be a part of. No bills. No car. No Job. Heaven! Never did I have to fret about not being able to make ends meet on a minimum wage job that my government says I should be living just fine on. Nor did I have to concern myself with rental prices or how I would ever, ever even get a peek inside the home-ownership door. In my young naive I suppose I just thought that it would all comes naturally to me - I go to school, I get good grades. I go to college, I get good qualifications. I go to Uni, I gain a degree. I get a job, I buy a house. I meet a guy and we fall in love forever. Life isn't fairy-tale and unfortunately I can see what my teachers meant when they described me as a "pie-in-the-sky dreamer"

At school I was never a realist, always choosing to opt for the books and fiction over the cold hard facts of the classroom. Maybe that's why I feel so robbed of a adult life? Maybe this is why I feel like adulting is way worse than what I imagined it feeling and being like. Even now I see myself just simply drifting off into my own little world, imagining home ownership or my trip to DisneyWorld or a Holiday to the Caribbean. I am glad for Mr. Warehouse sometimes for he always is there to catch me and my ballooning ideas when they catch a bit too much wind, forever ready to bring me back down to earth. 

Anyhoo, back to the brighter side of me - My Friends. The amount of letters we would send each other, talking about all things from love and boys to willies, sex and how we all knew everything there was to ever know about the subjects. It's funny to look back and read what we thought was true about life and the world form just a few sex-ed videos. And as creative as we were with words I am sure that if I caught my daughter, or son for that matter, talking and reading and watching the material we were I would be very concerned. In the days before Internet, teenage girls like us got our kicks from online forums, chat-rooms and good old trading out. I recall the days where Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would almost weekly jam the printer in the school library because we got caught printing too many erotic fan fictions or reams of pointless Johnny Depp pictures to drool over, only for the weekend to come so we could stay-up late at sleepovers and watch the adult channels when the parents had gone to bed. 

I suppose in a way some of the things I wrote poems about and spoke about was a way of just expressing myself and at a time where in school it is so awful to be different and all the drama that surrounds being a pre-teen and a girl, I was certainly glad to have two wacko's joining me on the discovery into women-hood, even if we did stretch the rules - Then again, nothing has changed much, we're still all trying to test one another. But I suppose that is just part of growing up, and I wouldn't want anyone else beside me to do it with!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Ready?!

Good evening, 

So a thought occurred to me this weekend. Am I ready? Looking at Mr. Warehouse on Friday evening after a few hours in the park wearing out his Niece's and Nephew's, my beloved other-half sat relaxed on the sofa with the littlest of three children, all seemingly pooped from the exertion. Difference is that only a few moments earlier I was cradling a crying baby with no clue as to why it was upset. Was it hungry? No I was trying to feed it and the milk was not being graciously received. Was it soiled? Nope checked that - Five times. Was it hot? Not sure so I took off some layers. Was it tired? I don't think so as every time I put it down it cried and screamed even more. Did it want to be held? Refer back to being laid down. Was it sad? Probably. 

To be fair I have no clue and zero experience when it comes to children. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are both bemused and concerned with my lack of motherly instinct and general attitude towards children. The amount of times I have said to myself and others that "It'll be different when its my own" and all along I was kidding myself because now, I am actually starting to wonder if it is a false lie that other parents say when your just not ready for kids. 

I look at my own childhood, because I imagine that is where it starts. I was an only child up until I was about five and that is when my brother came along. Little as he always was to me, he was my little Bro and I was furiously protective over him, right up until the moment I was kicked out. Even to this day I find myself defending him and explaining that there must be a reason for some of his strange and sometimes hurtful actions. Growing up though, other than my brother, I never had any real hands on contact with babies or smaller children. My mother was told that after my siblings difficult birth another pregnancy could be the end of her and so it was just the two of us. 

When I was in my mid-teenage years, rocking out to My Chemical Romance and Enter Shikari, along came the first of three cousins, all in a quick succession of one another. With them all approaching their early adolescence I am sometimes put to shame with how much they know already. Sex Education is starting earlier, as is Drugs talks in Personal, Social, Health and Educational studies. At their age I though weed was some kind of plant that your grandma hated and would make you pee the bed if you picked it. I suppose it is education of a generation so as not to make the mistakes their parents may have made. 

I have very few friends that are single and ready to mingle, not that I am of course. Most of the people I know are with someone long term and either getting on the property ladder, having children or getting hitched. But I question sometimes if I am ready for all of that commitment. In fact, looking through social media, I have very few school friends that have not gone on to have children young. Now this is not a blast to young moms, and dads, ho have had their children whilst young themselves. Hey good luck to you, because my limited experience of looking after children, and within that the sparse moments I have had looking after children on my own, I question honestly how it can and is done. Only a handful of people in my friends list have a university degree, or have travelled extensively. Most of them without kids just poodle on through life, fixing up their room with new Instagram style photo-walls and tweeting about how the morning jog was just the best. 

Thinking about it life is great without kids! I am far too selfish, self-obsessed and consumed by moi to have children yet. People have said that "children will be the making of you and all your narcissism will melt away once you have babies" but I doubt it. I will have to wait and see what the future holds but right now there is a world to explore and a whole cupboard of alcohol under my sink that needs t be drunk ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Welcome To My Inate Fear Of Children ...

Hello, 

And so I am home, back in Blightly where it has rained at least once a day for every day I have been back. But lets start from the beginning shall we. The evening following the Chinese calamity, The Tweedles and I headed to somewhere a bit fancier for dinner, and this time I got some change. After spending the following remainder of the holiday frolicking by the pool, enjoying long beach tanning sessions and trying in vain to haggle for a faux handbag I was starting to feel the lull that is missing home. I did not realise this at first but I soon thought how nice it will be to get back to reality, back to my desk and back to the dog. Oh and Mr. Warehouse of course. Whilst I was missing the creature comforts of my little one-bed, there are many other things that come from a holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, majority of them good. 

You can almost certainly predict that along with the holiday staples of a night out getting pissed somewhere, bugs, a market day trip and boating excursions, there will also be arguments. Sometimes its about how grey the McDonalds is, sometimes its about who wouldn't come and look at a handbag with me or sometimes it was over the floor in the bathroom being wet. Either way I thought I had managed to have a holiday without the raised voices and hours of stubborn silences, that was until we left to catch the transfer bus. Of course I say we in the loosest of terms as I was not part of said 'we' since Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb headed to the transfer bus without me, not saying anything at all. After a few heated words and some attempts at making good of the situation in hand we arrived at the airport and boarded our very, very late flight home. Obviously I am over it now and I am sure, as with most of our arguments, we can laugh about them later in life. 

Arriving home at three-thirty in the morning and trundling down the path to the flat, trying to be quiet but my cases were making as much noise as they could against the cemented gravel. I soon heard a familiar growl, deep and menacing. It was my darling pooch; Well, half adopted-mine anyway. At least I could say that if there was an intruder then she was doing her job, guarding her home and mine. Coming through the house, making as little commotion as possible not to wake Mr. Warehouse I gave a big cuddle to the dog and climbed into bed besides my boyfriend. The following morning (or maybe just a few hours later) I awoke briefly with a kiss on my forehead as Mr. Warehouse headed out to work with promises of seeing each other that evening. 
"Remember you have a driving lesson at ten" Mr. Warehouse said as he headed out the door. Rolling over I muttered something of a goodbye and fell into a deep sleep.

Phone blaring I went to turn off my alarm in the next room, only to hear a voice as I turned back towards the bedroom. It was my driving instructor. 'Fuuuuuuuuuuuu' I thought. Answering back to the familiar voice I lied about not forgetting, throwing on some clothes and heading out to the awaiting vehicle. The lessons? They're going well. I have finished learning most things now, including a three-point-turn, parellel parking and reversing round a corner. I can now after my last lesson on Friday morning add into the mix learning what and how to do an emergancy stop. They are kinda exhilerating and fun, but I am almost certain that given a situation in real life whereby it would need to be used I wouldn't feel so "pumped" afterwards. 

Enjoying my day off Mr. Warehouse soon returned home and we talked of my holiday and how even still, my phone is not fixed. If anything it has got worse. Since last weeks post, not only does it shut down, restart and freeze automatically it also conducts a full factory reset without authorisation which, in turn, deletes everything in its path - Music, contacts, Apps and holiday photos. All. Gone. So as Mr. Warehouse and I discussed our plans for the weekend we decided we would go and visit Momma Warehouse and the new edition to their family. Mr. Warehouse's newest nephew was a week old and had been born whilst I was away holidaying it up and drinking cocktails by the beach. 

So after a whole day of waiting and hearing back about how Samsung were going to fix my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note4, we headed back to Marston Mortaine, Starbucks and Krispy Kreme in hand. The following day had been dedicated to seeing the newborn baby boy. Would this one day be my nephew rather than just Mr. Warehouse's? I don't know but with Mr. Warehouse in the knowledge already with how unpractised I am around children he relayed this through to his mother on the walk over, explaining in detail the physical restrictions I go through whilst in the presence of a young human. 

I don't know what is wrong with me. My family never really had babies around as my brother was the youngest for a long while and when my cousins were born I wasn't really around a huge amount when they were tiny, tiny. All I need is the gurgle or a creak of a babies cry and I am on edge. I think it is the fact that they could cry at any moment. And they're only a baby so they can't tell you whats wrong. I mean you wouldn't get a week-old-child saying "Excuse me mother but my bottom is wet and I am afraid I may have shit myself. I will require either yourself or some other poor soul ro empty this sack of mine and replace with a fresh one, and none of this leaving me to roll around waiting for you to get your crap together, organise the nappy-station before commencement of operation poopy-nappy." It will just cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. Nothing will console the child. Mr. Warehouse and other more experianced personel tell me that I should approach a crying babe as a matter of elimination in four simple steps. 
1. Is it wet/squishy-bottomed: If yes - Change its bum. If no - Move to question 2.
2. Is it hungry: If yes - Feed it. If no - Move to question 3.
3. Is it  sad or upset: If yes - Cuddle it. If no - Move to question 4.
4. Is it  tired: If yes - Cuddle it and try to put it to sleep. If no - Start process again.

Sounds simple but in reality would it really work? Truth be told, I don't know as when presented with said newborn it was asleep and continued to be throughout the duration of our encounter. I was completely rigid until  the moment it was out of my arms. I think I need to work on my relaxation around babies. They're like horses right; They can smell fear? I was certainly fearful but whilst I looked after this tiny, tiny baby in my arms, sleeping soundly, I did think about my life. I am now of an age where drinking so heavily that you end up outside a nightclub, hair a mess, missing one shoe and throwing up into an ashtray is unacceptable behaviour. Equally though whilst I reluctantly need to accept that my late-teens and early-twenties days of drinking the weekend away in a blind haze of Jagerbombs and Sambuca shots, I don't know if I am fully ready for settling down and starting to build the foundations of a future family life. Not going to lie though, I knew as I looked into Mr. Warehouse's eyes as he held his new nephew the he was getting broody and suddenly it wasn't me who was watching their fertility-watch. Not going to lie though, I did enjoy the cuddles. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx