Good Evening,
Walking into the public house, I thought to myself about how you could have quite easily missed bit if you have not been looking. A cold November afternoon wintered on outside as I took off my coat and got settled. Looking around at the compact bar area where many of the local residents drank the afternoon away in merriment I noticed the bunting of red, white and blue, Union Jacks proudly hung from the walls and somewhere there was a picture of the queen hanging proudly for all to see. It certainly didn't take long to hear the beautiful voices of the 30's, 40's and 50's serenading us all into a singsong.
On a quiet and rather unassuming street down by a local park frequented in this day and age by dog walkers and joggers alike, The Devonshire Arms in Bedford's Dudley Street is probably one of my favourite pubs I have been to in a long while. There is something about the place that speaks to an inner, deeper part of my soul that as a twenty-six year old I cannot explain as to why. There was something about this pub, something about this day, Remembrance Sunday, that seems ever so poignant for me. The icy cold air of a November morning awaiting my father and his men (and now some women). The feel of pride that swells within me from my military heritage and background. The absolute sorrow and sadness of those left behind by the brutal snatching's of war and conflict. All balanced out by the warmth I found myself in The Devonshire Arms on Sunday afternoon.
Accompanying my father whilst he collected a generous gift donation from the local boozer, Mr. Warehouse and I, along with the dog as well trundled into the rather busy public house following the Remembrance parade along the river. I had visited the bar a couple of times before, both with Mr. Cheese as our first date and as also an "ultimatum date" in the following spring. It had seemed nice then, both in the height of summer. But walking in here today seemed all the more different. Maybe, as I said before it was the decor and bunting and singers, but a part of me feels the same way about the The Devonshire Arms as I do about the Hotel Victoria from a previous blog post from last year "Newquay - New Life?". You see I fall in love easily (most of the time anyway) more-so with things than people, and strangely buildings are one of them. I seem to resonate with older more Victorian buildings, maybe one of the reasons I am writing to you now from a early 19th Century converted townhouse. I am somewhat fascinated by there history and the moments that their walls saw. I feel there energy and I want to experience and feel the times in which it cried and laughed. And to think that this is all from building's I barely knew.
Maybe more recent films like Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Allied and Dunkirk have awoken a part of me that lay rather dormant for a while and only now am I exploring its possibilities. Many people, including Miss Tweedle-Dee and I believe in the phenomena that is past life. I would love to go to someone genuine and have my future read, but even more-so my past. I have a deep rooted uneasy feeling about deep water and whilst I love travelling the idea of a cruise makes me more than anxious. Is this because of my fixation with the Titanic as I have done ever since I was small or is this because I maybe was a part of something bigger in my past life? I also have a obsession with murder and horrific crimes including the work (if you can call it that) of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and Josef Fritzl. Does this mean in a past life I had something to fear from these people? Notice how they are all men - Does that mean something? I don't know. I am so intrigued by this that I have begun to look into the possibilities of time slips, past life regression and even Deja Vu focusing on the premise that Deja Vu, at least in one of my opinions, is where you link seemingly unrelated things in your current life with these that you previously did, talked about or that happened in a previous time.
Whatever the reasoning I felt a connection to The Devonshire Arms. Perhaps the atmosphere took me away on the sweet notes of the post-war karaoke and cosy nature of the establishment, or maybe, just maybe. Had I been madly in love with my sweetheart when they were taken to war only to experience the heartbreak when the earth shattering news came back that they were never coming home, forever destined to spend my nights drowning my sorrows at the bar. Was I one of the lucky ones whose soldier came home albeit changed forever but so happy to see me we embraced for eternity. Had I been a mother who lost their son to the battlefield and sat in the corner awaiting the postman, pleadingly with a letter to let her know that her boy was OK, both feeling the screaming horror or tearful joy that may follow. Maybe I was another parent saying preparing my child for a swift goodbye at the station ready for their new life away from the bombings in cities and towns, knowing you may never kiss them goodnight again. Or could I have been the one with the box round my neck and a suitcase to match. Or maybe it is just my fantasy. My Imagination. My Creativity. Whatever it may be, Lest we Forget those fallen ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Lifetime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lifetime. Show all posts
Monday, 13 November 2017
Monday, 22 May 2017
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.
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
Monday, 30 January 2017
More like Shakira, Less Like Shamu!
Hey Hey,
Running off into the bedroom screeching at the top of his lungs, Mr. Warehouse was more than excited.
"Wait! Wait! I need to check my name is right?!" my boyfriend yelled from the bedroom of our ground floor apartment. After explaining that he knew his own name he can pounding back into the lounge throwing our passports on the sofa and saying that he was now ready.
"We don't check in for another six months at least dear, why are the passports out already?" I exclaimed, smile brimming on my face.
"Just to sure!" my Beau replied.
Finally we had done what we had set out to do for years - A proper beach holiday. Just me, Mr. Warehouse, Some sun, sand and sea. It feels like decades since I felt the sand between my toes and I will certainly be glad to get back to sunning myself by the shore in the late August sun. And after months of looking and a large amount of pestering from me, Mr. Warehouse and I finally settled on and sifted through many, many holidays only to settle on somewhere he had already been. I think if I was honest with myself though, I knew it was going to end up that way. I enjoyed how enthusiastic he was about it all.
Mr. Warehouse one and only beach holiday (apart from Newquay that is) was in the black-sand isle of Tenerife in the Canaries. Famous for its volcanic rock beaches and hot weather, Mr. Warehouse's first trip there was anything but relaxing it seemed. It was a stag do, one of his brothers I believe and by all accounts it was certainly memorable. Trips to titty bars, lap dances and some good old frolics in the sun, I heard Mr. Warehouse spent most of the first few days there in bed with minor heatstroke. Here's hoping that wont happen next time.
We are staying in the Playas De Las Americas in the South of the Spanish island is located also near to the infamous aqua park, Siam Park. With its lazy river, man made White sand beach and never-ending stream of slide and water chutes this place seems far from what I remember a water park being as a kid. This is insane. Also nearby where we are staying on the island is Loro Parque a beautiful wildlife park where education and entertainment goes hand in hand with daily shows from the regular zoo performers including penguins and sea lions but also Dolphins and Orca's.
Now I here what some of you may be saying, that Orca's and Whales of that size shouldn't be kept in captivity. But what about all the good work that goes on behind the scenes that shows what investigating animals in a close environment can help us as humans understand them and meet there needs in the wild better. I agree that some of the things, true or false, that have come from SeaWorld over the last few years since the 2013 Netflix Docufilm Blackfish aired have been far from savoury but I for one to say that I am for one looking forward to seeing these beautiful creatures in a way I would never be able to before or maybe again in my lifetime or even my children's. I mean if I could convince Mr. Warehouse to go to Orlando in Florida to see DisneyWorld, SeaWorld and all the rest of them then I would but it is a bit of a mean steep to do in six months.
Whale Watching tours, Sunset and Stargazing as well as the staples of a good old fashioned tat-market so I can buy my holiday knock-off handbag, I am fucking stoked for going. I cannot wait. Firstly though I think I may need to get my head in the game and start heading to the pool and some classes, half a stone in a month has gone already but it wont keep coming unless I keep up with the fitness regime, especially since I want to look more like Shakira than Shamu ... Bikini season here I come!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Running off into the bedroom screeching at the top of his lungs, Mr. Warehouse was more than excited.
"Wait! Wait! I need to check my name is right?!" my boyfriend yelled from the bedroom of our ground floor apartment. After explaining that he knew his own name he can pounding back into the lounge throwing our passports on the sofa and saying that he was now ready.
"We don't check in for another six months at least dear, why are the passports out already?" I exclaimed, smile brimming on my face.
"Just to sure!" my Beau replied.
Finally we had done what we had set out to do for years - A proper beach holiday. Just me, Mr. Warehouse, Some sun, sand and sea. It feels like decades since I felt the sand between my toes and I will certainly be glad to get back to sunning myself by the shore in the late August sun. And after months of looking and a large amount of pestering from me, Mr. Warehouse and I finally settled on and sifted through many, many holidays only to settle on somewhere he had already been. I think if I was honest with myself though, I knew it was going to end up that way. I enjoyed how enthusiastic he was about it all.
Mr. Warehouse one and only beach holiday (apart from Newquay that is) was in the black-sand isle of Tenerife in the Canaries. Famous for its volcanic rock beaches and hot weather, Mr. Warehouse's first trip there was anything but relaxing it seemed. It was a stag do, one of his brothers I believe and by all accounts it was certainly memorable. Trips to titty bars, lap dances and some good old frolics in the sun, I heard Mr. Warehouse spent most of the first few days there in bed with minor heatstroke. Here's hoping that wont happen next time.
We are staying in the Playas De Las Americas in the South of the Spanish island is located also near to the infamous aqua park, Siam Park. With its lazy river, man made White sand beach and never-ending stream of slide and water chutes this place seems far from what I remember a water park being as a kid. This is insane. Also nearby where we are staying on the island is Loro Parque a beautiful wildlife park where education and entertainment goes hand in hand with daily shows from the regular zoo performers including penguins and sea lions but also Dolphins and Orca's.
Now I here what some of you may be saying, that Orca's and Whales of that size shouldn't be kept in captivity. But what about all the good work that goes on behind the scenes that shows what investigating animals in a close environment can help us as humans understand them and meet there needs in the wild better. I agree that some of the things, true or false, that have come from SeaWorld over the last few years since the 2013 Netflix Docufilm Blackfish aired have been far from savoury but I for one to say that I am for one looking forward to seeing these beautiful creatures in a way I would never be able to before or maybe again in my lifetime or even my children's. I mean if I could convince Mr. Warehouse to go to Orlando in Florida to see DisneyWorld, SeaWorld and all the rest of them then I would but it is a bit of a mean steep to do in six months.
Whale Watching tours, Sunset and Stargazing as well as the staples of a good old fashioned tat-market so I can buy my holiday knock-off handbag, I am fucking stoked for going. I cannot wait. Firstly though I think I may need to get my head in the game and start heading to the pool and some classes, half a stone in a month has gone already but it wont keep coming unless I keep up with the fitness regime, especially since I want to look more like Shakira than Shamu ... Bikini season here I come!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)