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
Showing posts with label Luck of the Irish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luck of the Irish. Show all posts
Monday, 19 March 2018
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Carrot's Can Help You See In The Dark
Evening everybody,
Now after last week's entry I have been made aware that my twenty-second birthday is nearly upon me. Oh what an age but so far I don't think I have much to show for it apart from some very good stories and a few not so good. Haha. One story in which I have yet to share with you all.
Now before Mr. Cheese walked onto the scene (or galloped on, with his tin-foil suit and Zebra steed intact) I was just starting out, dabbling my feet in the cold waters of dating. This was when I met Mr. Carrots. We were introduced through friends after Miss Chocolate had been befriended by him on a social networking site some months earlier. She had no qualms with me and Mr. Carrots meeting for a casual date after she said that he was far too clingy and 'try-hard'. Should have known from the beginning really?
After a few weeks of mindless chit-chat we decided to meet up in person. Mr. Carrots lived on the outskirts of Luton and I in Flitwick with Daddy and his girlfriend at the time. We agreed to meet in the town centre and to go for a couple of drinks before I continued my evening with Miss Chocolate and some old college friends. I knew that Mr. Carrots wasn't a looker but when you are single and someone shows you interest you don't turn it away, besides - Maybe it would be a grower, like mold? Thus said, this was not the case. He was not my type at all but I thought he deserved at least a chance.
Walking up to the court-yard where we had planned to meet there was only one lone figure standing out. It was him. Mr. Carrots. Whilst on the phone to Miss Chocolate I thought that maybe I could just ditch it and do a runner. Then I got a text. He had seen me. As I hung up and nervously walked over to where he was standing there was defiantly no turning back. Mr. Carrots wasted no time in pulling me in for a bear hug and awkwardly I went in for the french double-cheek kiss which he didn't get at all and we ended up in an head-swaying competition in which we both didn't want to be entered in. Eventually we started to walk further into the town and began the small talk. Obviously forgetting the fact that I had told Mr. Carrots previously I had lived and still visited regularly Luton he began to point out buildings of significance and explain their purpose. I didn't have the heart to tell him again and so just let him waffle on.
After a short walk we arrived outside a pub I knew well. Taking me inside I watched as Mr. Carrot's face dropped to the floor and with everyone in the bar looking at us like we just kicked a cat, typical me I made a chirpy comment about getting us a table whilst he grabbed up some drinks. As I approached the table I took a moment to look around. Two women in the corner of foreign origin whom I am almost positive were waiting for the streets of the town to get dark enough so they could go out to work. The rest of the locals were men, all of them above the age of forty with a taste for beer and possibly the odd scrap. Yes. I knew this bar well, but not for the right reasons.
It was at this point that a drunken resident stood in front of the table I had chosen and proclaimed his love for me in an heavy northern Irish accent. Still to this day my friends are amazed at how well I can pull it off. Whilst he adorned me with praise for my beauty I silently begged him to leave before Mr. Carrots arrived through an awkward smile. Finally he left and soon Mr. Carrots took his place and we proceeded with the conversation. By this point I had already felt that there was not spark, not even a click of a lighter and that sweet as he was, Mr. Carrots was not a future Beau.
As the conversation progressed it finally was spun round to football. After about ten minutes of awkward and ideal conversing about football and the weather I was praying for a ice-breaker but I knew that even a Blue Whale couldn't break this iceberg! Then out of the corner of my eye and almost like a message from the man upstairs himself was a pint of beer placed calmly on our table. The Irish drunk was back. Secretly laughing to myself I knew form that moment this was going to be a date to remember and for the remainder of our time in that pub we were bombarded with stories of this man's childhood. In fact I found out more about this man than I did about Mr. Carrots! We learnt that this drunk had a very, very large crush on me and kept telling me how beautiful I was - But before you all start asking me out, just remember he was drunk! He explained how his father was of Scottish descendants and owed a travelling funfair that him and his twin sister (who would 'beat the crap outta ya if ya tried anything') travelled around in as children. More detail was given about his twin sibling when he described in detail their ability to know what the other is speaking and communicate telepathically.
during the conversation with our new found friend the drunk would look into the blue eyes of Mr. Carrots and ask if he was 'starting' on him and if he 'had a problem' to which Mr. Carrots responded simply but nervously with no each and every time he was asked. Suddenly from no where he bellows out ''Carrots'' and me and my date look at each other in horror as we await an explanation. The residing drunk then argued with himself about why he kept thinking of carrots? ''Maybe I need to buy some?'' he said, to which the best reply in history came from my hum-drum date. "Maybe your twin sister is thinking of buying carrots and that is why you are thinking of carrots?!" He said jovially to our intoxicated third wheel. And there erupted my laughter for no longer could I hold it in; a mixture of pure and simple awkwardness with added dating failure made me burst out in a fit of chuckles.
It was just after this that I realised that me and Mr. Carrots were in a battle of who-will-finish-their-drink-first. I knew that if I didn't drink the last dreg's of my wine, we would both be forced to endure the constant back and fourth of conversation between a drunken old man and an already floundering first date. As soon as I put my glass down after gulping down the warming Rose, Mr. Carrots finished his and the Irish bum asked us if we wanted a fresh one. I didn't even give Mr. Carrots a chance to answer as I chipped in and mentioned that we had places to be and had to leave. Quicker than a Cheetah on speed we both left and headed to another bar on the other side of town where we sat for a short while continuing the in-and-out conversation. After that he constantly text me asking to meet up. He even gave me the pet name 'Carrot' - Not exactly come to bed is it?
I couldn't do it. I couldn't go on a second date with someone if it there was nothing there. So safe to say that life has somewhat mellowed out a bit since my encounter with Mr. Carrots but that doesn't mean it is no longer exciting. My date with Mr. Carrots, whilst not the best, was sadly not to be anything more than just a foot in the door. I am sure though that some day he will make some girl very happy and I genuinely wish him all the best, but unfortunately that girl is not me. Maybe I shall find someone soon? Maybe? But for now I am just enjoying life as it is; friends, family, work, social life and best of all I'm not lactose-intolerant!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now after last week's entry I have been made aware that my twenty-second birthday is nearly upon me. Oh what an age but so far I don't think I have much to show for it apart from some very good stories and a few not so good. Haha. One story in which I have yet to share with you all.
Now before Mr. Cheese walked onto the scene (or galloped on, with his tin-foil suit and Zebra steed intact) I was just starting out, dabbling my feet in the cold waters of dating. This was when I met Mr. Carrots. We were introduced through friends after Miss Chocolate had been befriended by him on a social networking site some months earlier. She had no qualms with me and Mr. Carrots meeting for a casual date after she said that he was far too clingy and 'try-hard'. Should have known from the beginning really?
After a few weeks of mindless chit-chat we decided to meet up in person. Mr. Carrots lived on the outskirts of Luton and I in Flitwick with Daddy and his girlfriend at the time. We agreed to meet in the town centre and to go for a couple of drinks before I continued my evening with Miss Chocolate and some old college friends. I knew that Mr. Carrots wasn't a looker but when you are single and someone shows you interest you don't turn it away, besides - Maybe it would be a grower, like mold? Thus said, this was not the case. He was not my type at all but I thought he deserved at least a chance.
Walking up to the court-yard where we had planned to meet there was only one lone figure standing out. It was him. Mr. Carrots. Whilst on the phone to Miss Chocolate I thought that maybe I could just ditch it and do a runner. Then I got a text. He had seen me. As I hung up and nervously walked over to where he was standing there was defiantly no turning back. Mr. Carrots wasted no time in pulling me in for a bear hug and awkwardly I went in for the french double-cheek kiss which he didn't get at all and we ended up in an head-swaying competition in which we both didn't want to be entered in. Eventually we started to walk further into the town and began the small talk. Obviously forgetting the fact that I had told Mr. Carrots previously I had lived and still visited regularly Luton he began to point out buildings of significance and explain their purpose. I didn't have the heart to tell him again and so just let him waffle on.
After a short walk we arrived outside a pub I knew well. Taking me inside I watched as Mr. Carrot's face dropped to the floor and with everyone in the bar looking at us like we just kicked a cat, typical me I made a chirpy comment about getting us a table whilst he grabbed up some drinks. As I approached the table I took a moment to look around. Two women in the corner of foreign origin whom I am almost positive were waiting for the streets of the town to get dark enough so they could go out to work. The rest of the locals were men, all of them above the age of forty with a taste for beer and possibly the odd scrap. Yes. I knew this bar well, but not for the right reasons.
It was at this point that a drunken resident stood in front of the table I had chosen and proclaimed his love for me in an heavy northern Irish accent. Still to this day my friends are amazed at how well I can pull it off. Whilst he adorned me with praise for my beauty I silently begged him to leave before Mr. Carrots arrived through an awkward smile. Finally he left and soon Mr. Carrots took his place and we proceeded with the conversation. By this point I had already felt that there was not spark, not even a click of a lighter and that sweet as he was, Mr. Carrots was not a future Beau.
As the conversation progressed it finally was spun round to football. After about ten minutes of awkward and ideal conversing about football and the weather I was praying for a ice-breaker but I knew that even a Blue Whale couldn't break this iceberg! Then out of the corner of my eye and almost like a message from the man upstairs himself was a pint of beer placed calmly on our table. The Irish drunk was back. Secretly laughing to myself I knew form that moment this was going to be a date to remember and for the remainder of our time in that pub we were bombarded with stories of this man's childhood. In fact I found out more about this man than I did about Mr. Carrots! We learnt that this drunk had a very, very large crush on me and kept telling me how beautiful I was - But before you all start asking me out, just remember he was drunk! He explained how his father was of Scottish descendants and owed a travelling funfair that him and his twin sister (who would 'beat the crap outta ya if ya tried anything') travelled around in as children. More detail was given about his twin sibling when he described in detail their ability to know what the other is speaking and communicate telepathically.
during the conversation with our new found friend the drunk would look into the blue eyes of Mr. Carrots and ask if he was 'starting' on him and if he 'had a problem' to which Mr. Carrots responded simply but nervously with no each and every time he was asked. Suddenly from no where he bellows out ''Carrots'' and me and my date look at each other in horror as we await an explanation. The residing drunk then argued with himself about why he kept thinking of carrots? ''Maybe I need to buy some?'' he said, to which the best reply in history came from my hum-drum date. "Maybe your twin sister is thinking of buying carrots and that is why you are thinking of carrots?!" He said jovially to our intoxicated third wheel. And there erupted my laughter for no longer could I hold it in; a mixture of pure and simple awkwardness with added dating failure made me burst out in a fit of chuckles.
It was just after this that I realised that me and Mr. Carrots were in a battle of who-will-finish-their-drink-first. I knew that if I didn't drink the last dreg's of my wine, we would both be forced to endure the constant back and fourth of conversation between a drunken old man and an already floundering first date. As soon as I put my glass down after gulping down the warming Rose, Mr. Carrots finished his and the Irish bum asked us if we wanted a fresh one. I didn't even give Mr. Carrots a chance to answer as I chipped in and mentioned that we had places to be and had to leave. Quicker than a Cheetah on speed we both left and headed to another bar on the other side of town where we sat for a short while continuing the in-and-out conversation. After that he constantly text me asking to meet up. He even gave me the pet name 'Carrot' - Not exactly come to bed is it?
I couldn't do it. I couldn't go on a second date with someone if it there was nothing there. So safe to say that life has somewhat mellowed out a bit since my encounter with Mr. Carrots but that doesn't mean it is no longer exciting. My date with Mr. Carrots, whilst not the best, was sadly not to be anything more than just a foot in the door. I am sure though that some day he will make some girl very happy and I genuinely wish him all the best, but unfortunately that girl is not me. Maybe I shall find someone soon? Maybe? But for now I am just enjoying life as it is; friends, family, work, social life and best of all I'm not lactose-intolerant!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
Teenage Kicks
Hello,
Now as I explained in my last post, I had been invited somewhere important. At the time I couldn't divulge much more as other attendees are avid followers and would have foiled my plan. So, a few weeks ago I got talking to an old school friend of mine who also happens to be in a band with and close friend of Mr. Coffee's - I know, I know; Just bear with me on this one. So after we had done away with small talk I started discussing booking him and the band for a charity fundraiser event I am planning on hosting in the coming months. He agreed and I said that I would get back to him with some of the details. Anyway, I heard nothing from him until I had a social-networking invitation to an event where by his band was playing ... along with none other than Mr. Coffee himself. In a flap I immediately messaged Miss Chocolate, knowing that she would probably not give me a lecture about 'going back to old flames' as much as Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb would. And so a plan was conceived that Miss Chocolate and I would go on a bar crawl for St. Patricks Day, which would just happen to end up at the same location as the gig and at precisely the right time. All week, cunningly planning and plotting what to wear and how to have my hair, thinking up a good alibi and what to say. Now this would not have been such a big deal had it not bee for the earlier incident of bailing on me, (See post 'Time to Say I Told You So ... ') but regardless as the week flew by yet again, Saturday night loomed ever closer.
After waking up at sparrow's fart to go shopping with Papa and spending all day pampering myself into oblivion I was finally ready. Strangely Papa dropped me to the station and was concerned about how I was getting home, who I was going out with and all the other things a parent worries about. I do love him sometimes, but on this occasion I think he knew I was up to something and was just digging around for the scoop! As I sat on the train gulping down Orange Juice and Vodka it took me back to my teens and reminded me that there has never really been a point in life where I haven't been obsessed or fixated with something or someone, usually multiples of different things at the same time. And Saturday night was no different. Although, reading this back in my head does make me look a tad infatuated and preoccupied by Mr. Coffee and his participation in the evening. I'm not. To clarify, I am merely interested in pursuing him further. I would, after my resent encounters with Mr. Coffee, like to confront the coward and ask him what the hell he was playing at and how he feels about me. Well I got my chance didn't I ...
After arriving in town and heading pretty much straight to pub in which Mr. Coffee and his band were playing, Miss Chocolate and I settled into the bar stools to have a drink. However, Miss Chocolate is more of the clubbing and pubbing type, not usually accustomed to loud rock music in a small, stuffy pub. Regardless of those factors she embraced it with every bit of muster the girl had and towards the end of the session, I even caught her singing along and dancing with the best of us. I am proud to say that I broke her gig-virginity! As we were sitting at the bar having a chat, I was tapped on the shoulder by another old school friend who just happens to also be Mr. Coffee's best friend and fellow band-mate. I introduced him to Miss Chocolate and asked why he was hear, fully knowing the answer before I even asked it. He explained that he was here with 'the band' and that they were scheduled for 9pm. After a few tid-bits of small talk he left. Miss Chocolate and I mooched around for a bit, having a cigarette, complaining about the wet and 'inappropriate' rain before my shoulder was yet again disturbed by an important person. Mr. Coffee! So it seems that after bumping into most of his band-mates, a few mutual friends and his step-dad, Mr. Coffee had came over to say hello. But I had more for him than hello! I was fully ready to turn around and give him a big piece of my mind, but as I turned to greet him all hope of controlling the hormonal teenager in me dried up. Deep brown eyes, dark floppy hair and a smile that I needed my RayBan's for. Even better looking that I remembered I tried to compose myself and we started the standard conversation. My alibi worked a treat but there was still an elephant in the room to confront.
"Why didn't you turn up?" I asked as Mr. Coffee's face went cold and fearful. He knew what he was in for. "I'm so sorry. I was scared and panicked. I just thought that you wanted something more than I was willing to offer you. I really am so sorry. You must think I am a dick?" was his reply. I was fuming, yet still on cloud nine. Odd feeling that - Wanting to throw your drink on someone but knowing that if you do your just going to add to their sexual-appeal. Mr. Coffee shuffled from foot to foot for a while just repeating himself over and over, apologising constantly. I had told him in the past that I didn't want anything serious like the last train wreck of a relationship, but just wanted some fun and to share the coming summer with and I felt that I needed to reassure him of this again. The conversation of a NSA relationship came into the chat's limelight only to be stamped on by his band being called up. "Will you stay?" Mr. Coffee asked, pleading me to stay. "You know I have always wanted you to see me play with the guys." I turned to Miss Chocolate and her face said it all. I had to compose myself and become hard and cold - Show him whose boss and that I am still upset with him. "Mmm, I don't know, my friend wants to head on to a nightclub now so I don't know, I might." I replied as my legs resumed from their jelly-like state. After accepting this, Mr. Coffee turned to walk away, tail between legs.
As Mr. Coffee began to play I took a prime position in the already large crowd and for the next half hour I was propelled back to being fifteen again, admiring a band I knew well, shaking my hair and singing to what words I knew. I concentrated hard as I watched Mr. Coffee's eyes frantically search the crowd for my face, not knowing weather I stayed to watch or not. After a few songs I caught his eye and Mr. Coffee sent me a wink which nearly killed me. I felt like I was in the front row at a Elvis Concert. If I wasn't ready to blow before - I sure as hell was now! Annoyingly though there was a young Polish man standing behind me and throughout the whole set he was trying to kiss me and talk to me. I just smiled as I couldn't fully understanding a word he was saying, given the noise and language barrier. Looking back now my intoxicated state he looked like a blonde lab rat and, and as I couldn't hear him I just continued to smile which only seemed to cement in his head that I was his for the evening. At one point I think he even asked "If I buy drink for you, you come home with me, yes?" and in a flap I promptly pointed to the tall, dark and handsome musician onstage and said that I was dating Mr. Coffee. Instantly his hands flew up in the air and he apologised, however, knowing that Mr. Coffee was already struggling to see me, I decided to play and flirted with the foreigner, hoping that Mr. Coffee would see and sweep me off my feet, saving me from this manic stranger.
Once the band stopped playing I got ready to leave, but not before Miss Chocolate had something to do with it. As Mr. Coffee stepped off stage I was pushed forward into his arms. After I had composed myself and stepped out of his bubble the flood gates opened and I gushed about how much I enjoyed his performance. We stood around for ages nattering before I got the eye from Miss Chocolate, indicating that it was time to leave. I explained to Mr. Coffee that I have to go and asked him several times to come along to the nightclub and continue the party, but lack of finances gave that idea the boot. Reluctantly I bid farewell and turned to leave. But then I remembered a task I had been asked to do earlier on in the evening by my drinking buddy. I turned back to the hot musician. "My friend says that were not leaving until we kiss and make up" I said boldly to which Mr. Coffee replied with some lame excuse that he would never be able to live it down in front of his friends and step-dad who were just on the table next to us. As I pulled away from a hug our eyes met, earthy brown matched with sea green. But just as I was about to turn and leave Mr. Coffee pulled me in close for a quick kiss on the lips. Sneaky, cheeky and throwing all inhibitions to the wind! I loved it. Following a swap in numbers I skipped out of the pub with his lips still burning on mine.
So where are we now. Well after gaining advise from the all power love-goddess that is Miss Chocolate I am being told to play it cool and text him mid-week which is tomorrow, so I shall keep you all posted on this as it unravels but I'm not hold my breath, especially after last time! But it wasn't just me who got lucky on Saturday night, Oh no! The luck of the Irish stuck Miss Chocolate when she met up with a guy she had met online. Safe to say that his profile picture was probably Catfished from a search engine!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now as I explained in my last post, I had been invited somewhere important. At the time I couldn't divulge much more as other attendees are avid followers and would have foiled my plan. So, a few weeks ago I got talking to an old school friend of mine who also happens to be in a band with and close friend of Mr. Coffee's - I know, I know; Just bear with me on this one. So after we had done away with small talk I started discussing booking him and the band for a charity fundraiser event I am planning on hosting in the coming months. He agreed and I said that I would get back to him with some of the details. Anyway, I heard nothing from him until I had a social-networking invitation to an event where by his band was playing ... along with none other than Mr. Coffee himself. In a flap I immediately messaged Miss Chocolate, knowing that she would probably not give me a lecture about 'going back to old flames' as much as Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb would. And so a plan was conceived that Miss Chocolate and I would go on a bar crawl for St. Patricks Day, which would just happen to end up at the same location as the gig and at precisely the right time. All week, cunningly planning and plotting what to wear and how to have my hair, thinking up a good alibi and what to say. Now this would not have been such a big deal had it not bee for the earlier incident of bailing on me, (See post 'Time to Say I Told You So ... ') but regardless as the week flew by yet again, Saturday night loomed ever closer.
After waking up at sparrow's fart to go shopping with Papa and spending all day pampering myself into oblivion I was finally ready. Strangely Papa dropped me to the station and was concerned about how I was getting home, who I was going out with and all the other things a parent worries about. I do love him sometimes, but on this occasion I think he knew I was up to something and was just digging around for the scoop! As I sat on the train gulping down Orange Juice and Vodka it took me back to my teens and reminded me that there has never really been a point in life where I haven't been obsessed or fixated with something or someone, usually multiples of different things at the same time. And Saturday night was no different. Although, reading this back in my head does make me look a tad infatuated and preoccupied by Mr. Coffee and his participation in the evening. I'm not. To clarify, I am merely interested in pursuing him further. I would, after my resent encounters with Mr. Coffee, like to confront the coward and ask him what the hell he was playing at and how he feels about me. Well I got my chance didn't I ...
After arriving in town and heading pretty much straight to pub in which Mr. Coffee and his band were playing, Miss Chocolate and I settled into the bar stools to have a drink. However, Miss Chocolate is more of the clubbing and pubbing type, not usually accustomed to loud rock music in a small, stuffy pub. Regardless of those factors she embraced it with every bit of muster the girl had and towards the end of the session, I even caught her singing along and dancing with the best of us. I am proud to say that I broke her gig-virginity! As we were sitting at the bar having a chat, I was tapped on the shoulder by another old school friend who just happens to also be Mr. Coffee's best friend and fellow band-mate. I introduced him to Miss Chocolate and asked why he was hear, fully knowing the answer before I even asked it. He explained that he was here with 'the band' and that they were scheduled for 9pm. After a few tid-bits of small talk he left. Miss Chocolate and I mooched around for a bit, having a cigarette, complaining about the wet and 'inappropriate' rain before my shoulder was yet again disturbed by an important person. Mr. Coffee! So it seems that after bumping into most of his band-mates, a few mutual friends and his step-dad, Mr. Coffee had came over to say hello. But I had more for him than hello! I was fully ready to turn around and give him a big piece of my mind, but as I turned to greet him all hope of controlling the hormonal teenager in me dried up. Deep brown eyes, dark floppy hair and a smile that I needed my RayBan's for. Even better looking that I remembered I tried to compose myself and we started the standard conversation. My alibi worked a treat but there was still an elephant in the room to confront.
"Why didn't you turn up?" I asked as Mr. Coffee's face went cold and fearful. He knew what he was in for. "I'm so sorry. I was scared and panicked. I just thought that you wanted something more than I was willing to offer you. I really am so sorry. You must think I am a dick?" was his reply. I was fuming, yet still on cloud nine. Odd feeling that - Wanting to throw your drink on someone but knowing that if you do your just going to add to their sexual-appeal. Mr. Coffee shuffled from foot to foot for a while just repeating himself over and over, apologising constantly. I had told him in the past that I didn't want anything serious like the last train wreck of a relationship, but just wanted some fun and to share the coming summer with and I felt that I needed to reassure him of this again. The conversation of a NSA relationship came into the chat's limelight only to be stamped on by his band being called up. "Will you stay?" Mr. Coffee asked, pleading me to stay. "You know I have always wanted you to see me play with the guys." I turned to Miss Chocolate and her face said it all. I had to compose myself and become hard and cold - Show him whose boss and that I am still upset with him. "Mmm, I don't know, my friend wants to head on to a nightclub now so I don't know, I might." I replied as my legs resumed from their jelly-like state. After accepting this, Mr. Coffee turned to walk away, tail between legs.
As Mr. Coffee began to play I took a prime position in the already large crowd and for the next half hour I was propelled back to being fifteen again, admiring a band I knew well, shaking my hair and singing to what words I knew. I concentrated hard as I watched Mr. Coffee's eyes frantically search the crowd for my face, not knowing weather I stayed to watch or not. After a few songs I caught his eye and Mr. Coffee sent me a wink which nearly killed me. I felt like I was in the front row at a Elvis Concert. If I wasn't ready to blow before - I sure as hell was now! Annoyingly though there was a young Polish man standing behind me and throughout the whole set he was trying to kiss me and talk to me. I just smiled as I couldn't fully understanding a word he was saying, given the noise and language barrier. Looking back now my intoxicated state he looked like a blonde lab rat and, and as I couldn't hear him I just continued to smile which only seemed to cement in his head that I was his for the evening. At one point I think he even asked "If I buy drink for you, you come home with me, yes?" and in a flap I promptly pointed to the tall, dark and handsome musician onstage and said that I was dating Mr. Coffee. Instantly his hands flew up in the air and he apologised, however, knowing that Mr. Coffee was already struggling to see me, I decided to play and flirted with the foreigner, hoping that Mr. Coffee would see and sweep me off my feet, saving me from this manic stranger.
Once the band stopped playing I got ready to leave, but not before Miss Chocolate had something to do with it. As Mr. Coffee stepped off stage I was pushed forward into his arms. After I had composed myself and stepped out of his bubble the flood gates opened and I gushed about how much I enjoyed his performance. We stood around for ages nattering before I got the eye from Miss Chocolate, indicating that it was time to leave. I explained to Mr. Coffee that I have to go and asked him several times to come along to the nightclub and continue the party, but lack of finances gave that idea the boot. Reluctantly I bid farewell and turned to leave. But then I remembered a task I had been asked to do earlier on in the evening by my drinking buddy. I turned back to the hot musician. "My friend says that were not leaving until we kiss and make up" I said boldly to which Mr. Coffee replied with some lame excuse that he would never be able to live it down in front of his friends and step-dad who were just on the table next to us. As I pulled away from a hug our eyes met, earthy brown matched with sea green. But just as I was about to turn and leave Mr. Coffee pulled me in close for a quick kiss on the lips. Sneaky, cheeky and throwing all inhibitions to the wind! I loved it. Following a swap in numbers I skipped out of the pub with his lips still burning on mine.
So where are we now. Well after gaining advise from the all power love-goddess that is Miss Chocolate I am being told to play it cool and text him mid-week which is tomorrow, so I shall keep you all posted on this as it unravels but I'm not hold my breath, especially after last time! But it wasn't just me who got lucky on Saturday night, Oh no! The luck of the Irish stuck Miss Chocolate when she met up with a guy she had met online. Safe to say that his profile picture was probably Catfished from a search engine!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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