An Early Morning and A Very Cornish Adventure

Morning, 

1.50am. It was early and I couldn't sleep. It was dark outside and I had only been asleep for a few hours. But it wasn't because of noisy neighbours or COVID induced insomnia, something I have struggled with since mid-lockdown. No. I was up because I was excited and just couldn't sleep. Within a matter of moment my alarm, along with my sleeping beau next to me would go off, alerting us to the time we need to get up and leave - 2am. 

After a quick stop off for petrol, we were off, a flask full of sugary coffee and Pain Au Chocolat and Blueberry muffin to keep us full, we hit the road. Our dogs safely tucked up in the back started to settle more as we headed down the motorway in the darkness of the night. Several months ago in what can only be described as a wet and uneventful January, I wrote New Year, Newquay, and finally, now we were here at that moment. With Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist, one of his favourite places - Newquay.  

Pulling over at a service station just outside Basingstoke I swopped with Mr Warehouse to drive the rest of the way. Two-hours down, only four more to go. Heading into the country lanes from the larger A-roads I knew we would be stopping soon. It was just coming past 5am when we stopped in a little car park in the middle of Dartmoor National Park. A vast moorland in the county of Devon, southwest England, the Dartmoor ponies roam its craggy landscape, defined by forests, rivers, wetlands and rock formations. With its multiple trails that wind through the valleys with Neolithic tombs, Bronze Age stone circles and abandoned medieval farmhouses it is certainly a beautiful landscape. The area is dotted with villages, including Princetown, home to Dartmoor Prison used during the Napoleonic Wars which was where we stopped near for a quick toilet break and walk with the pups. 

The rain soon put a holt to that though and we headed back to the confines of the car. Heading out onto the long and winding roads again we were met with some of the local wildlife including Cows, Ponies and lots of Sheep. After possibly getting lost, and many more hours on the road, much larger than the dirt country lanes and paths we nearly got stuck down, we soon arrived at the Ladyevelyn. Situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort, just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. Obviously, due to the Coronavirus, the normal facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment were all out of action. 

That being said though, our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and dogs were welcome. With what was quoted as a "fully equipped kitchen" I would hardly classify it as such. Granted it came with a microwave and Iron as well as a fireplace, seating area with a sofa and a flat-screen TV it was comfortable and modern, however, there were no bowls just large tapas dishes, the cooker didn't work and most of the lights didn't work either. There was a fridge and a kettle however the coffee machine wasn't anywhere to be seen and there seemed to be a lack of any other amenities - I mean it wouldn't hurt to have a welcome pack including some tea, coffee, sugar and maybe a loaf of bread and some milk. A little gesture that wouldn't cost a lot but would honestly make a world of difference. The private bathroom came with a shower however the hand towels were threadbare and the mirror had rust around the edge.

However as we settled in and had a little snooze, we learnt later on that afternoon walking the dogs that the park is less than a mile to Porth Beach, however, this was not really somewhere we could have walked to easily as there were steep hills and narrow lanes everywhere, and the twenty-minute walk would have killed our eldest pooch who turned thirteen next week. It was our youngest pup was annoyed by the wind and kept barking at it into the ocean wind. As the waves came splashing in they both loved it feeling the sand between their toes and watching them both run and play on the shoreline was honestly memory I shall treasure forever. "I promised we would get you here hun, and now look at you," I said to our Golden Oldie, recalling the horrible moment I had to drop her off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back. 

Our first night was spent watching telly and chomping down on Chinese from the local. Today we visited Healey's Cyder Farm where Mr Warehouse and I explored the Bottlery, Distillery and Cellars full of apple wine, cider, brandy, whiskey and now gin. On their website, the history describes how Kay and David Healey went from turning the key in their first off-license, to bringing a 150-year-old farm back to life. Buying up a 16th century press, planting orchards and turning the fruit from their trees into world-renowned drinks and produce, this is now an award-winning cider farm. 

Overseen by their sons Sam and Joe, the Healeys are a family that’s long been in love with Cornish cyder and their's is the first Cornish distillery in 300 years. For more than 30 years the family’s been living and breathing apples every day which is why it made such a good day out ... and I suppose the free samples helped. Tomorrow's activities are sea fishing for mackerel and Wednesday we are taking a trip out with the dog's to Lands End. It's a shame to think next time I write I will be home!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Living in Regret

Heyy, 

Last week I spoke about the regret of not ever living in London and the city and the life that I could have imagined living if it weren't for different other life events that lead me on the path I am today. And yet again I sit here in regret. 

Back in the Autumn of 2018, my Mr Warehouse proposed. I remember it so clearly, walking on ahead with my little winner following a fun dog show which our (now) eldest pooch (the only one at the time) won for coming first as "The dog that the judges would most like to take home". So in my own world was I, I didn't notice as Mr Warehouse came up alongside me and almost in slow motion, my boyfriend of nearly four-years knelt down on one knee and pulled out a grey box from his pocket. As if it was yesterday I recall how I felt as my mind adjusted to what my eyes were seeing, he opened the box only to reveal a beautiful White Gold Diamond ring. A part of me had not quite realised that this was it and instead was just thinking how nice it was that he had bought me a nice gift. Then I think everything caught up with me and as my gorgeously handsome, cute bottomed Mr Warehouse asked: "Will You Marry Me?" 

After choosing the wrong size I had to re-pick my ring, mainly as they could only size up and down 2 levels and I needed more than that. I selected the beautiful Revere 9-carat White Gold Cubic Zirconia Oval Halo Ring, classic and elegant. After whizzing over to Stevenage to collect it in my size, I was overjoyed and couldn't stop staring at my hand for months. But soon enough the whirlwind had worn off and I found a new shiny thing to think about. 

Back in the Summer of last year, I was sat in a meeting in early June and noticed a small spec of dust on the desk. I swiped it onto the floor, thinking nothing more of it. A little while later I ended up looking down and playing with my engagement ring. However, on closer inspection, I realised a stone was missing. Panicked I realised that the "speck of dust" was actually one of my stones! There I was, on all fours in this bloody sales meeting. I picked up the crystal and wrapped it in a piece of paper, stuffing it into my bra for safekeeping. Calling the store Mr Warehouse (and I) bought it from, I explained what had happened and asked if I could bring it in with a photo of the receipt that I had on my phone to be repaired. They said it would be fine and I brought it in that evening once I had finished. With weeks before we jetted off on our last holiday as an unmarried couple, I was itching to get it back. 

Several weeks later I was days away from mine and Mr Warehouse's holiday and I was even more desperate to get it back to go on holiday with. It would be the first time it had been on holiday and would be the one and only time it would be seen on a beach, fore next time it would be accompanied by my wedding ring! Eeeek! But after calling several times I was told that the ring was not back yet and they would be in touch soon. I did have a contingency plan though. I had ordered a lab-created diamond ring from eBay that looked similar, although disappointingly it had not arrived in time for my holiday only adding to my heartache. However, once it had (eventually) arrived was not quite for me and so I sent it back, awaiting any day for my beloved ring to be back with me. And so, regrettably, I skipped off on holiday without my ring. 

Coming back home from Malaga Mr Warehouse and I waited in the airport, ready to board our flight home, swollen and in pain with blisters and sores. I had a phone call from the store we sent the ring back to get repaired. Unfortunately, it would have happened that when the repairers went to fix the ring, it bowed and warped so much so that whilst they had been able to fix it, the repair was not guaranteed and that if any more stone fell out I would have to go through the whole six-eight week process again. I decided not to accept the repair and instead opted to have the ring returned and have a replacement, thoughts of the new shiny thing I had seen in the shops a few weeks before. 

Truth be told I had fallen in love with a 9ct White Gold Cluster Ring. The claw set cushion design is a real beauty. Handset with DiamonFlash Cubic Zirconia it creates a ring of perfect proportions with lots of sparkle and style. A fabulous accessory for any outfit - Including my wedding dress. Lusting after it for a while I was still waiting to hear about my ring being returned, I couldn't help myself and after calling a local branch in Milton Keynes and being told that my exact size was in and was on sale, I dropped what I was doing (which was decorating our hallway at the time) and headed over. However, on making the half-hour round trip and paying for premium parking, I was more than annoyed to try on the ring and for it to barely get past my knuckle. 

"This is not the correct ring size," I said to the sales assistant. She disagreed saying that of course, it is. 
"I can assure you that this is not my ring size," I said again asking her this time to size it on her ring chart and, sure enough, it was wrong, coming up nearly three sizes too small. Fuming I tried to control myself in a shop busy with people, but explaining politely to the sales girl that I have come in especially for this and what it is simply not really acceptable to just say sorry and make an excuse that someone had labelled it incorrectly, especially when I had called in advance too. Nevertheless, the young girl helped by ordering the ring in, although not before trying to charge me more because I was ordering a "bigger size". I paid in full and left, sitting in my car before I left and typing out an angry tweet. Venting through the interwebs seems to help as I had a response within a few hours and was told that because of my troubles I would have my ring especially shipped in from the manufacturers directly and that I could collect that Friday. 

What happened to the other original engagement ring? Well, whilst I loved it, I love this one. Although I should have listened to the doubt inside my head at the time. Writing in "Rings and Tings" that week I really had to ask myself if this new ring will have all the same significance and special feels as the OG. Several months down the line I can promise you that it does not. Silly old me back then thought "I mean of course it will look a little odd in photos and I will have to explain every time someone asks what happened to my old engagement ring, but this one is soooo sparkly and soooo beautiful it won't be hard for them to see why I fell in love with it." Oh how wrong I was. 

I have since just spent pretty much the entire evening looking for this damned ring. The original of course. I am absolutely gutted though as Argos have stopped selling it, literally as of January 2020! Alas Revere 9-carat White Gold Cubic Zirconia Oval Halo Ring, you were the one and I was hasty to let you go for now I regret my decision and whilst I continue my search online for ex-models or ex-stock items, I can only hope I can find you item 724/8119 ...  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Having children is like having a blender with no lid!

Heyy, 

A week on since the sunburn incident, I would say I have fully recovered and my face is now back to normal, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Annoying really as we could have really enjoyed our last few days of holiday in  Malaga and our trip to Gibraltar, not to mention not cancelling the multitude of hair appointments, doctors appointments, counselling sessions or other things I had planned for that weekend we returned. It is nice now to be enjoying the summer sunshine and fine English weather. 

Enjoying a garden party this weekend made me think more than ever about not only our impending wedding, less than a year and 3 months away now but also that of children. A family BBQ held in honour of my future nephew's birthday, I was surrounded by all ages, from 9-weeks to 90! In amongst them were a few familiar faces, many of which had stopped asking now about babies and instead were asking about the wedding, thank fuck. 

But as I poured myself another glass of Magical Mystical unicorn gin, infused with the flavour marshmallows and candy-floss, sparkling and shining as it glittered in the sunlight, Mr Warehouse found me and questioned why my portion size kept growing. Laughing it off we chatted in the kitchen for a moment away from the madness of bouncy castles and kids. 
"Doesn't this make you broody?" he asked coyly suggesting a family one day. It got me thinking again about what life would be like. I think about it more and more I suppose as I get older. Moreso in different situations such as drink-fuelled weekend parties and holidays in the sun where your face turns into a pork scratching?! These are the irresponsible antics I would have to give up, not to mention practically starving myself and the deprivation that will come with pregnancy. 

All the good things in life and all the foods I love are off limits; Alcohol, Blue Cheese, Smoked Salmon, running Eggs, Rare steak, Carpaccio, Prawns, and did I say alcohol just to mention a few! I may as well eat baby food myself. At least though by the end of it all I will not only have a bundle of "joy" but also an excuse for those stretch marks other than enjoying the odd KFC too much. 

A recent article on the Relate website goes through some of the thought-processes of starting a family. As with most people, the thought of starting up a family brings me out in a whole range of emotions from excitement and happiness through to total anxiety and fear, borderline terror!  I, like many other twenty-somethings my age, imagine creating a happy, safe home for my children, giving them the childhood I had and the one I had wished for. This being said I agree with the websites opening statement. I am incredibly nervous about the idea of bringing a new life into this world - I can barely raise myself let alone thing about raising a child. Relate go on to explain that "Having a child is an experience that brings into sharp focus your core life beliefs, the values that you inherited from your childhood, your relationship with your parents, your hopes and dreams – and your anxieties." I now know that feeling like there's a whole host of different feelings are jostling for attention in your head is entirely normal. After all, it’s a big decision!  

Obviously, I and Mr Warehouse are in a stable relationship so realistically it could work and should the worst-case scenario happen and I fell pregnant then we would just "deal with it" so as to speak, going with the flow and bring our child up outside of wedlock. Whilst it would not be the way things were meant to be in my head, I would still love that child nevertheless. I would like to be married first, more for the commitment to me as I would feel that if you can commit to me with no real permanent ties or links then you are an appropriate person who I could bring up a child with, especially when I already have major issues with commitment and abandonment already. 

It goes without saying that financially speaking, kids are costly. Having a baby is an expensive business and I only know this from the few trips I have had wandering around the children's section with friends or family searching for baby grows and muslin cloths. Relate make valid points saying "It’s important you make sure you're going to be able to afford all of the things you’d need to raise a child. This includes things like good, clothes and childcare – but may also need to take into account the expense of moving into a bigger property too".

All in all, I think that one day I would like children and my worries of not being an adequate mom have got better, but I doubt if they will ever disappear entirely. That being said though I know I am in good hands as Mr Warehouse's parental background is also littered with unhappy memories and unpleasantries. I know that my fiance is very child-friendly, whereas I may have a little bit of learning to do. Plenty of time before that though ... Chin Chin!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sunning Ourselves in the City by the Sea

Morning one and all, 

Last week I explained of the issue I had with my Landlord in paying back my deposit which was rightfully owed to be following Mr Warehouse and I moving out in November 2018. No sooner had the money hit my bank account my fiance was asking what I was going to be spending my money on. Jokingly I said about going on a holiday, expecting his normal response of "No, we cant afford it". But, on this occasion there was something different. 
"If you can find a holiday for under £400.00 then we can go!" Mr Warehouse said playfully. And so, heading to my go-to websites I found a flight for under £100 for both of us. Not booking any allocated seats and only one bag between the two of us I was off to a good start. Heading over to the hotel websites I found a great little hotel, less than five minutes from the beach and with a pool and air-con. Even better was the £250-odd that I had been saving up in Tesco Clubcard vouchers paid for it entirely. Malaga here we come!

It was dark. It was fucking dark. But we were now hours away from boarding a flight to the sunshine coast of Spain. We had only been asleep for a few hours after partying with some of my work colleagues at a friends 30th birthday party so to say we were tired was an understatement. However, driving down as dusk broke and checking ourselves through security I could feel Mr Warehouse becoming more and more anxious about the baggage and seating arrangements. After a quick spot of breakfast we were on our way and stepping into the Ryanair Jet, bound for Spain. 

The flight itself was nice and mainly smooth going, helped along by the film Baywatch and a pecan plait from home. Arriving in Malaga airport I could feel the humidity hit as the doors of the plane opened. Reunited, Mr Warehouse and I headed through the airport and outside where we decided not to get a transfer or taxi and instead opted for the local bus, only three-euros and was less than forty-minutes, about the same as a cab. This saved us about twenty-euros and whilst we had not necessarily pre-planned this, I would certainly recommend. As we left the comfort of the bus, Mr Warehouse and I walked through the beautiful botanical-inspired gardens to our hotel, located as described, perfectly between the beach and harbour. 
"So is the pool on the top floor?" I asked the clerk who met us there to show us around our apartment. He looked at me confused. I repeated my question and this time he responded, telling us that there was no pool. Annoyed slightly the clerk and I both looked through the photos n the website and sure enough there was not any, however I was certain to have booked one with a pool that all the holiday apartments shared. Signing away the papers I vowed to check once settled, although after checking it seems I may have been thinking of another hotel that was in running when booking. 

And so far since then our little holiday has been great. Halfway through now and still lots left planned in. Our first few hours were spent exploring and finding the amenities such as the beach, cafes, restaurants and the Harbour before having dinner and getting an early night. Yesterday was spent again mainly exploring and having a walk around the old town of Malaga City. We have yet to go to the traditional indoor market however we have booked onto a trip to visit my fathers birthplace tomorrow - Gibraltar (hes not Spanish, just part of a travelling military family). 

Yesterday evening I think was the best so far by a mile as Mr Warehouse and I boarded a catamaran boat trip to watch the sun set over the city by the sea. Standing in line we waited patiently. Mr Warehouse had ushered that the group of Spanish teenage boys behind us a few meters away were also boarding the catamaran. 
"Oh god I hope there not a little bunch of Arseholes" Mr Warehouse stated. Agreeing with him I nodded. A few moments later the queue we were in began to move and people began to board the boat and take up their places on the netted seating/sunbathing area. 
"Excuse me you were here first," Mr Warehouse said ushering the man stood next to him to take the spot in front of him in the queue. Clear and concise came his reply. 
"No, No. I'm with the group of boys over there" the Spanish looking man said in plain English. Oh Fuck! Feeling embarrassed Mr Warehouse said nothing and turned back to face the front. Whether he heard us or not make the comments about his pose/crew, Mr Warehouse and I now had to spend the next few hours out at sea with him and his gang of 'youts'. 

Sailing away on the deep ocean with nothing but water between us and North Africa, it was nice to see my fiance fully relaxed. 
"I am really glad that you push me out of my comfort zone and to do things and go places I have never been to before" he said, quite out of the blue. Sweet and romantic, my earlier naughty dream only reinforced the fact that I knew he was the one. To think that this may be the last holiday I have with a an unmarried name! The boat trip was beautiful and I have taken many many photos which I am hoping, when I have a free moment that I can make into a little holiday montage and video, similar to what we did with our Tenerife vlog! 

Tonight I think we will head up to the old town again, hoping for some yummy Paella and fresh seafood before a spot of shopping for nic-naks and holiday crap before an early night as we have to be up and out before 7am in order to get the transportation to Gibraltar - The home of my ancestors, named after the rock itself and to be forever adorned with monkey's. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Deposits And Departure Gates!

Heyy, 

In a few days from now, I will be probably writing from you in the hotel lobby or maybe by the pool of our holiday apartment in the centre of Malaga, Spain. Sipping on cocktails and sunning myself in the warmer weather I will certainly be glad of the break, especially since it has been a couple of years since mine and Mr Warehouse's Tenerife break! What with saving for a house, my mental health issues and every spare penny going towards our new home Mr Warehouse and I decided against a summer break in 2018. That being said it was not exactly planned this year either, what with the wedding less than a year and a half away now I expected to be ploughing every penny we had not only into our new home but also towards the wedding of our dreams. That would have been the case until Mr Warehouse gave me an ultimatum back in the dreary depths of March. "What will you do with the money?"

It all started when we moved out of our little starter flat in Bedford town centre. We had just received our new keys when we had noted that days earlier paid our rent for the next month up until the end of November 2018. 
"Don't suppose you could give us half of it back and we can be out in a fortnight?" I asked my Landlord cheekily. He didn't agree, although I knew he wouldn't. I had, along with my new fiance, a month to move our things out and clean the property ready for the Landlord's new tenants. Clearing most of our stuff in one weekend we made sure to give the flat a good solid three days worth of cleaning, scrubbing every skirting board, every wall, every tile to make sure it was spotless. 

I had been relying on my £400.00 deposit money coming back to me before we had bought a lot of the home stuff we needed and as Christmas approached it would have been nice to maybe go somewhere or just have a more enjoyable festive period, especially after the year Mr Warehouse and I had just battled. And on checking out with the Landlord everything seemed to go swimmingly. There were a few items that needed to be collected and taken care of furniture wise however on returning the keys the Landlord mentioned that the carpet may need changing and he agreed that he would find a few quotes and be in touch with a price so I knew how much of my deposit would be used, something we reluctantly agreed to. As the festivities got underway Mr Warehouse and I was able to even steal a weekend away to Bournemouth with our eldest. Soon enough Christmas arrived as did New Years and without a moments thought I realised it had been well over six weeks and I had still to hear anything from my ex-landlord regarding my deposit and what he thought was appropriate for a carpet that needed replacing waaaay before I moved in. 

I called and called and called but nothing; texting every time I left a voice mail, just in case he was out of the county or not able to answer a call. After several weeks I tried emailing, however the email I had just kept bouncing back. Hell, even Mr Warehouse had gone round to the Flat after work some nights just on the off chance he may be there but still nothing. Clutching at straws at the beginning of January this year I called the estate agents that originally dealt with me in letting the penthouse flat in the same block. They were helpful and put me in contact with the DPS, Deposit Protection Scheme. Since April 2007, a landlord must put the deposit for the property you are renting into a government-backed tenancy deposit scheme (TDP). This gives the landlord or letting agent's assurance that the tenants will meet the terms of the tenancy agreement, not cause damage to the property and pay the rent/bills. 

Finding out where my deposit was the first thing, next was trying to get it back. I found out, again through the helpful lettings agent, that my landlord must have returned my deposit within 10 days of us both agreeing how much you’ll get back. Since it was January and I had heard absolutely nothing since I handed back my keys there was only one thing left to do - Raise a dispute. I was told it would be pretty easy since it was clear that I had made every effort to try any other means of getting this resolved and had the texts and phone calls to prove it. And so I put pen to paper (well fingers to keyboard really) and filled in the online application form with ease. A few days later I had a response and was told that the Landlord / Agent would have a right of reply and that this would be allowed up until the beginning of February, three-weeks away. Should what I thought the inevitable would be and that there was no response from the Landlord then the DPS would look in favour to the tenant and in most cases award the full amount back to me. I was anxious but confident I had done everything I could. 

Within a day or two of logging a deposit dispute, I had a text from my ex-landlord, asking if we could meet at the property the following day to discuss the deposit issue and collect the "piles of post that was building up". I explained that the following day was not convenient and since I had been trying to get ahold of him for months now that he would have to wait until the weekend when Mr Warehouse and I would be free. I never heard back. 
Friday afternoon of that week came and I received another text message asking about the time Mr Warehouse and I would be meeting my ex-landlord at the property. I explained that since I had not had confirmation that I had assumed it was inconvenient and had made other plans for the weekend. I had instead agreed that I could meet him at the property, along with my fiance after work that day but that we needed to be finished by a certain time as we had somewhere to be, a lie but I didn't want to be waiting around for hours. 

Incidentally, on arriving at the flat, rushing there from work in 4pm traffic, my ex-landlord still did not show up for a further forty-minutes, only to arrive and announce he had forgotten the keys so needed to return home to fetch them, delaying the meet by a further half hour or so. During which time I took a look through the windows of my once precious abode. I was horrified to see that in the darkness of that January evening my ex-landlord had completely decked out my old gaff with new carpets and even painted the walls. Terrified he was going to try and charge me all of this, I thought it best to call the TDS and get some advice on how best to proceed, considering I had already filed a dispute. They explained that despite the ex-landlord fully fitting the flat out he would not be able to put that charge to me, even if they were cashmere carpets and golden paint (of which they were certainly not)! 

It was at this point that I also found out to my shock that legally my ex-landlord could not ask for any of the deposit to be used on the downstairs flat. You see, when I first moved into the block I rented the top floor 1-bedroom apartment and loved every moment of it. I paid a £400.00 deposit and then a year or so later when the ground floor property came up for rent I initiated a conversation to my Landlord and asked if I could have the first refusal. He agreed and since I had been a good tenant and always paid my rent on time with never any issues he agreed that the deposit for the penthouse apartment would simply be used for the ground floor one and so nothing more was said. Although that had not been the case as the Landlord have never moved the deposits over and for the sake of a letter at the end of the numerals (I moved from A to B), there was nothing he could do. 

And so as the van pulled into our old street again for the second time that evening I was relieved to know I had the upper hand and that every penny of that £400.00 I scrimped together for back in 2013 was coming back to me one way or another. A snotty and rather uncomfortable chat with the ex-landlord ensued, something in which I sound recorded on my phone simply for evidence should I have needed it. He accused Mr Warehouse and I of not cleaning the flat and leaving it in a "diabolical state" claiming that there were holes left in walls, paint jobs messy (from the tenant before me I must add) and that the carpets were threadbare and in need of replacement since they smelt like dog and were damaged. Offended I explained about how difficult it was to get hold of him and he brushed it off stating that it was "no excuse for how you left it". Some bully tactics took place and at one point he asked us about coming back to clean the oven, which in all fairness we had forgotten totally about until he brought it up. 
"Well," I started, knowing I was fully going to fucking win this. "Considering we had not been able to reach you for several weeks that had turned into months, I was not wholly confident you were going to turn up this evening and even then I was not sure what to expect so, therefore, have not come equipped with any cleaning tools, however, if you would like both of us to come back at a later date and clean this and anything else we would be more than happy to do so." I finished. This caught him off guard completely and maybe expected me to roll over and just agree to be billed. It was at this point he made some excuse about not wanting the hassle and that he would just arrange it himself. On getting down to the crunch however my ex-landlord reeled off the long list of thing we had left for him to clear and clean up, mainly redecorating works which needed to be done really in order for the property to be let again in a reasonable state. 

"I have had to pay out over £400.00 for the work I have done here and I would say I am being fair in only asking for half of it back from your deposit? Don't you agree?" the ex-landlord ushered to Mr Warehouse. My fiance, big and strong, chest puffed out like a peacock stood his ground and reiterated what I had said time and time again stating that this was out of our hands and that it was going through a deposit dispute with the TDS. 
"Well, we only have to tell them what we want them to know," the ex-landlord said slimily trying to claw back some money from his crappy paint job and cheap carpet. 
"Besides, who are they more likely to believe?" he ended. Then, awkward silence. 
"We need to think about it" I ended the long period of silence with explaining it was now a joint decision and that I needed to discuss it with my new fiance and come back to him knowing full well I wouldn't and would eventually walk away with my money, rightfully mine. 

And true to that, I did. A few weeks later I received an email in my inbox stating that despite timeline and numerous attempts to contact the Landlord /Agent even past the cut-off date for a right of reply, I was being awarded my full deposit back to me. The money landed in my account within a few hours. A couple of days after the TDS settled the claim I received a call from my ex-landlord. I was in the hairdresser's chair so could have answered but in any instance, I would have been at work and so screened the call. I listened to the polite and slightly sinister voice mail, demanding I contact him as a matter of urgency regarding the "damage" to his property and to discuss the "deposit issue" suffice to say that I did not return his call. Instead, I blocked his number and booked a holiday! Malaga here we come!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx