An Olive Branch?

Evening, 

Following my visit last week to the wonderful island of Ireland after my grandfather's departure, it was certainly a visit to see family and recuperate that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. But back home in the struggling spring of Mainland UK and with most things organised for the funeral including piecing together an all black outfit that would be appropriate for a funeral whilst still maintaining at some class and decorum about me, there was very little left to do. 

And yet I had to still try and get a hold of my brother. When it first happened, my granddad's death that is, I hoped he has some sense in trying to get in contact with the family, including both my mother or fathers sides. But what with Mr Warehouse and I travelling to Ireland, contacting my brother had slipped my mind in all fairness but as I said last week, in a funny sort of way I had made my peace with my Granddad and his demise, all I wanted is for my brother to have the opportunity do the same and make an informed choice. Last week I supposed that only time will tell. I didn't have to wait long. 

Following my return from County Kilkenny, I called round all family members, hoping to get an update or to find out that maybe given the circumstances my brother had contacted anyone, even just to send a card or to call and give his condolences and sympathies. Nothing. At the very least I thought he might reach out after all these years to our grandmother who had lost not only the love of her life but also the father to their children who eventually grew into the family she now has. But no. 

After speaking with my mother's brother, my Uncle Golf, I was informed that he to had not had any communication from my brother at all since the beginning of the month. I was disappointed to say the least. This was certainly not how our parents raised us and far from what I would expect my brother to act as an bow fully grown man. Talking more my Uncle Golf decided that my brother and I needed to talk and would be most unfortunate circumstances needed to talk and at the very least discuss the details for the funeral and what we both might like to say about our memory of our time with him. And so with this information and coupled with my brothers mobile number, on a evening after a heavy gym session I decided to give him a call. 

Was I nervous? Yes! Was I Anxious? Definitely!  Was I scared? No, he was my little bro! OK well I was a little bit but I think that all of those feelings are fairly normal when you have not spoken to someone who is meant to be one of the closest people in your life in the last four years. I suppose it is kind of morbid in a way that the last time we spoke it was at another funeral. honestly speaking I hope that it was not going to be add another but here I was. In my kitchen. In my flat. Dialling his number Mr. Warehouse stood by me stirring the pot of risotto watching it boil and bubble. It began to ring. With the dialling tone continuing I expected a voicemail to hit soon. 'Maybe he was just like his big sister putting his phone on charge and ignoring it for the whole evening?' I thought. But I barely had a moment to think about that before a deep manly voice answered the phone in a jovial tone. 

"Hiya" The young man said. Shocked, I had not expected my brother to be so receiving and happy about me calling. But oh how wrong I was! On hearing my voice my baby brother proceeded to tell me to "Fuck Off"! Stunned by his outrageous behaviour and inability to control himself and show a bit of respect, I had only a few seconds before he hung up the phone. Attempting quickly to return his call, it went almost straight to voicemail. Leaving him probably quite a lengthy and rambling on voicemail I followed up my communication, although brief with my brother, on a text message. 

Hi Sean it's me, your big sister. 

I know that you don't want to speak to me so I thought I would message you instead. Obviously I'm hoping that you know this already but if not our Granddad passed away recently. On behalf of myself, the family which you are apart of even after all these years but most importantly Granddad himself we would really like to see you. 

I understand if you do not want to come and see myself, dad or anyone else in the family for reasons I can only assume, but at the very least I think you should go and say goodbye to our Granddad one last time. I have enclosed the details below that are on all of the families social media pages as I am not sure if you have seen them. If you have not then you now have all the right information in order to make an knowledgeable decision about what you would like to do for yourself and I hope you do the right thing as a lot has changed in all these years. 

I have spoken to other family members and they have all said that if you would like they are more than welcome to offer you a lift to and from the funeral, crematorium and wake and this is including myself. 

If you end up deciding that you would not like to come to the funeral for whatever reason, personal or otherwise, then at the very least call the funeral directors and they will be able to organise a time for a personal viewing of the body so it is just you and Granddad where no one else will be allowed in. 

It's up to you at the end of the day but I would like to hope that you would still go and pay your respects to our grandfather who loved us unconditionally and irrespective of our parents and what they did or did not do. 

When everything is said and done, I just wanted to make sure that you had a chance to make an informed decision for yourself as an adult. I love you and if there is anything else I can do or that you would like to discuss them please call me. My number hasn't changed. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Back To The Emerald Isle

 Afternoon, 

Working flat out again in order to get done and dusted in time to catch the evening flight to Dublin International I raced out of the office and bombed it down the road to Nanny Pumpkin's house. Parking the car up and popping in to see her and other family members for a few moments before the cab arrived I was pleased that she was looking well, especially given the circumstances. Boarding the plane, Mr. Warehouse and I were lucky to blag not just seats together (obviously being Ryanair it was doubtful we would be sitting together unless we paid more than the flight itself) but we also managed to get slap bang in the middle of the plane meaning extra leg room for Mr. Warehouse's pins!

Arriving in a drizzly Dublin I worried as Mr. Warehouse and I bumbled through passport control and immigration, collecting our bags and heading to the hire car desk, anxiously awaiting to see if we would be given the car. This was the first time that we will be hiring a car and as such I was nervous about it all. Because I had been driving less than two-years I had difficulty trying to find a hire car to start off with, but eventually I found a reliable and trustworthy car hire company in Thrifty. I had several concerns and worries on the run up to collecting the car and one of those was the fact that there was a €1,700.00 deposit needed to be placed on a credit card. A credit card in which I did not have a limit for. And so Mr Warehouse had volunteered himself to put the deposit on his own credit card. This would have solved things nicely until we discovered that Mr Warehouse did not know what his pin was and after several attempts at a local corner shop had blocked the card. 

Worries and concerns aside we collected our hire car keys and headed to have a look at what we had bagged ourselves. Dashing out to the car park avoiding the raindrops as we went I was constantly unlocking and locking the car to see which lights would go off. Eventually the Bae spotted some headlights flashing in the distance and as we got closer and closer we realised that it was a huge 4x4 type vehicle. I thought to myself that 'surely this can't be our car' and I was right for the next few moments a gentleman walked passed us both with a briefcase. Yes this was not our car. Walking on a little further we seen clicked and found a few flashing headlights that ended up to be hours. As I sat in the driver's seat and adjusted my position to something a little more comfier, Mr. Warehouse loaded the boot up with the suitcase and paced round the outside in order to make a note of any additional knocks, bumps or scrapes. With everything seemingly in order we headed off out of Dublin city centre and on the road to the sticks (AKA County Kilkenny), arriving with my auntie and uncle just after midnight making good time on their assumptions of having to wait up until the early hours only to receive a phone call from me saying that I was lost somewhere in Galway. 

The next few days for sprint in a blissful unawareness of work or anything remotely strenuous, instead spending our time talking about family, life in general for Mr. Warehouse and I back home in the UK and drinking. Lots of drinking! The thing is that Ireland for me has always been a retreat and somewhere to rest your bones whilst the rest of the world ticks on by. Something about The Green Isle always makes me feel better after visiting. I suppose given my grandfather's departure last week, almost to the hour that I am writing this, a visit to see family and recuperate was certainly something that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. 

But alas we all have to come back to reality at some point and mine just happened to be this morning. With everything said and done most things are now organised and set in place ready for the funeral. I have yet to still get a hold of my brother, although I do hope that he has some sense in order to try and make amends with the family but if not that then at the very least to pay his respects and see our grandfather who loved us irrespective of our differences or how our parents treated one another. In a funny sort of way I have made my peace with my Granddad and all I want is for him to have the opportunity do the same. I suppose only time will tell. 


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Nostalgia!

Hello Dear's, 

So after last week, sunning it up in the not-so-party-town of Kavos on the Greek island of Corfu I am glad to be back in the swing of things here at home in England. I have settled back into reality nicely and with the build up to Christmas well on its way I am excited more than ever for what the coming weeks are going to be bringing me in terms of socialising and fun-times. 

Although last week was a chance for me to indulge myself in music with friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. A chance to escape back to the days of school, exams and secret rendezvous with class mates after the bell had rung! Back to the days before rent was due and my desk was seeing more of me than my little flat. Back then the walls of my bedroom were plastered with posters of Indie boy bands and "Emo" musicians. I was a fully fledged "Emo" with long hair, blacked eyes and a taste for the dark side. One band that adorned my bedroom and many a front cover of school text books was a band called Fall Out Boy. Now you have been warned, this is me going into full blown fan-girl mode, so watch out!

So ... Super hot cutie, Patrick Stump, heads up the band and has been playing the role commonly known as Fat-Pat (or at least in my friend circle) since before I became obsessed with them in 2007/2008. Also in the band is Penis-show-off, Pete Wentz (Penis Picture can be seen here for those that did not get enough of it last time). Other Fall Out Boy members also include that awesome drummer, Andy Hurley, who looks strangely like my first boyfriend Mr. Ginge and not to forget Tim Burton Wanna-Be, Guitarist Joe Trohman (the resemblance is uncanny). They were formed back in America somewhere probably when I was still running around with my hair in pigtails and singing something by Aqua. 

Several years later I find myself singing the lyrics to songs I just knew were written for me and my teenage angsty love affairs with boys who never noticed me. Those albums and songs bonded me and my father in a united passion of rock and punk as he also had a love of the dark side, and with bands such as Green Day and ACDC playing a role in my Dad's life growing up, they also formed a part of mine. But were a misunderstood bunch us Emo, Scene-Kid, Goth, and many other variants are all seen in the same line as freaks and outcasts from society, at least that's how I saw and felt it back in school. My friend circle back then was a mixture of all sorts of young people that didn't fit into the normal stereotypes of school - The Geeks, The Jocks, The Preps, The Populars. I and my friends were none of those. So we took ahold of a small bit of land near the library and called ourselves The Unwanted. 

Nevertheless I grew up from those days with a clear outline of what I wanted from life but more importantly who I was and who I am inside. I am a rock chick through and through and when faced with any opportunity of going out on the town, even to this very day, I don a thick black smokey eye. So I suppose music did in a way shape my future as well as my past and the band called Fall Out Boy was a massive part of it. So of course I was over the moon and back with joy when I found out that my girlie's, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had not only bought me tickets to go and see Dreamboys (this coming Friday and to be widely discussed next week) but also tickets to see my beloved Fall Out Boy. 

Belting out the lyrics to Sugar Were Going Down and Dance Dance, standing in an extremely hot and sweaty Wembley Arena next to my best-est friends in the whole wide world I knew that I had grown up a lot since the last time I saw Fall Out Boy live. Much had happened since the last time I had seen there face as again part of special birthday outing. But this time I felt much older than some of the other teeny-bops there. Which got me wondering ... Should I hang up the fingerless leather gloves and throw dinner parties instead of heading out out? Naah!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

It's Bat Country!

Hello there one and all,

I hope you are all well and that twelve days into the new year I am starting to wonder if some peoples New Years Resolutions have caved in yet. I know that mine are being stretched further and further each day. Who knew that being on time was such an effort?! Nevertheless I am thoroughly looking forward to the year ahead and in particular for events in less than eight-weeks time. I can hardly believe that my little pipe dream with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family is nearly here. It seems like only yesterday I was begging for somewhere to find the money to go and now, after working at my second job in the call centre for nearly six-months solid, listening to people moan and groan and hang-up on you I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were little-r we were obsessed with Johnny Depp. We were obsessed, watching films with even only a few seconds of his baby face in and we would coo and giggle. We all became infamous in our schools library, forever misusing our school's printer to copy reems and reems of Johnny Depp photos, sticking them everywhere from our Notebooks to our walls. We would recite lines from films and take any opportunity to turn a class project into something about J.D. Our school text books were testaments to our following, like a shrine to Mr. Depp with hopeful scrawling's of "Mrs Depp" and "Cry Baby's Baby" wishful squiggles of three girl's whom knew nothing of the world and how it worked let alone what love was and both how electrically brilliant but also earth-shatteringly devastating loving someone can be. Looking back on it, things were so different back then; everyone seemed to be richer in so many ways - Money, Friendships, Families. Life in general seems much easier as a pre-teen than as an adult. 

There was one film in particular that as thirteen-year-olds my Tweedles and I took too more than others and that film was called 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', as written by the late and great Hunter S. Thompson in the 1970's and directed by Terry Gilliam in 1998, the film follows two journalists Raoul Juke, played by Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo on a drug fuelled binge through the City of Sin, Las Vegas! As a little person this was a thrilling and exciting film, if not very adult movie to be watching at such a young age. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything and scoured the internet in my lunch breaks with my best buddies by my side looking for nuggets of film-buff knowledge to gain an understanding of Johnny Depp as both an actor and a fellow human. Johnny spent four-months living in the basement of Hunter's home in pursuit of gaining a better understanding for Hunter's mannerisms and habits so as to portray the character well. It seemed normal for us as teenage girls to do the same and as I conjured up dreams of being a starlet in front of the camera whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee directed and Miss Tweedle-Dumb wrote scripts. 

A few years ago I was given a blue, silken bound book, Inside it contained a little of what I have shared with you all today in regards to my friendship with my dearest friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Along with pictures of all my ex-lovers and hilarious moments up until I was twenty-one there was a Gem I had not seen in years. It was a story about three eighteen-year-old's on their first holiday. Destination. Las Vegas! Turns out in this story Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I all bump into Johnny Depp who invites us back to his and his Fiancées house (whom was Vanessa Paradis at the time) to look after his children (whom are now in there teens) and spend our holiday there. Eventually the story ends with the three of us permanently staying over there and I fall in love with an hot American waiter. Oh how I do love my best friends and the wishful life they bring me! Funny to think, looking back as Miss Tweedle-Dumb ticked away at the keyboard in the library and printed the tale in bold orange letters that little did we know within the next decade we would be planning for a trip to Sin City ourselves - Minus the Johnny Depp stalking and nanny duties ... And probably even that waiter dare I say!

Leaving the past behind me with fond memories I look forward now to when I finally board that plane. Goodbye cold, wet and possibly snowy Britain and hello to the Nevada Desert where the sun isn't the only thing that will be getting high. I did plan to loose some weight and get down to not only a figure I can be happy with but something that I can show off on social networking sites. "Look at me bitches! I am in Vegas whilst your at your desks! Ha! Oh is it raining outside. Not to worry myself about though as someone called Chad or Chuck is bringing me another Sex on the Beach!"  I would say as I casually upload pictures of me in swimsuits lazing by the pool and naked on a bed full of Dollar bills. Obviously there will be the traditional photo's of the Las Vegas sign and the skyline at night. I am sure that there will be many a night spent in a casino or two, drinks flowing and bottles be popping. During the day trips to the local Mall, Markets and down-town sights will be in store as well as maybe a cheeky trip out to Area 51 and the Grand Canyon. I would love to ride horse-back through the sand dunes of the Nevada but I doubt my Tweedles will be so frivolous. Everything aside, I am thoroughly looking forward to my trip and I cannot wait to spend all of what I have been saving for the past nine-months for. Roll on March mother-crackers!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx