New Life, New Swag!

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last week's cheese Saga, Mr. Warehouse and I have since binned the smelly, perfumed cheese and instead bought a stronger variety and something a lot more palatable. And to think that the next shop I will be doing for our monthly food will be after our holidays. Speaking of which, with exactly a month to go today, me and Mr. Warehouse I'm nearly fit to bursting with looking forward to our first beach holiday together. After nearly three-and-a-half-years together I can hardly believe that we have never had a beach holiob. 

In preparation for such event it would only be fair that we would hit the shops for some new clobber. Now despite having a wardrobe fit to burst I still have the absolute urgency to buy holiday clothes. I have tops and skirts, and along with my myriad of kimonos, dresses and bikinis, all of them virtually worn a handful of times, all in all I know in my heart of Hearts that I really do not need any more clothes. However a unicorn pool float and a towel with pockets is still on my shopping list. Normally I don't care too much about what I look like or how I will look in photo's as there is a common understanding in the female world that we will just simply edit our way to perfection. Mr Warehouse is a boy and to put it bluntly does not understand it. Whilst I am told almost everyday that I am beautiful without all of the make-up and hair by my wonderful boyfriend, I still want to make sure I look good on holiday, and even more so when we will be spending so much time together. 

You might hazard a guess that Mr Warehouse was much more of a simple person, buying something only if he needs it and not because it's on sale. And for the most part you would be right in thinking this, as throughout the week he wears a uniform (lucky bugger) and as a result never wears normal clothes unless it is a date night or it is the weekend. However, this weekend after just been paid, both of us decided to head off to Bovingdon Market, which was originally Miss Tweedle-Dee's idea just to have a mooch around the 'designer brands'.From household goods such as knife blocks, pillows and carpets right down to the knock-off-nigel Timberland boots, Ralph Lauren T-shirts and Michael Kors handbags. You name it and Bovvy had it. And all for a fairly reasonable price. Well most of it anyway. Arriving to pick Miss Tweedle-Dee up for once I was earlier than expected. I even had to stop so someone (AKA Mr. Warehouse) could feel his face with a McDonald's breakfast, complete with extra hash brown. Nevertheless I chose the healthier life and opted for Latte with a Banana and Yogurt from home which I never actually got to eat as I was driving. As I explained to Miss Tweedle-Dee as she got into my newly MOT'd Vivienne; I am not on a diet  - I am just simply healthy eating. 

With less than four weeks to go until I am on a beach in Tenerife I certainly feel more pressure on this holiday with Mr Warehouse then I do with the girls. I don't know maybe it is the environment that I now find myself in on a daily basis. Verses my old office where I spent my days with a ragingly posh lesbian, a hackney city girl and an old man verging on retirement. Now I am in an office full of beautiful girls and women (As well as you men - You know who you are) who make an effort every day with their appearance. Applying make-up and doing their hair nice and pretty, a part of me honestly wonders why they bother. I am not single and there is no hot men to flirt with at work so what is the point. Equally I feel it is nice that we collectively all seem to make an effort maybe not necessarily for our co-workers but more-so for ourselves as women. 

I also get the feeling that life in my new(ish) office is to be constantly looking your best at face value is not the end of it. There is the Instagram's, Facebook updates and selfies to contend with. I feel like such a typical 'twenty-something-girl' by being desperate to get an invite to a fitness class or invited out for dinner or for a quiet night in with a bottle or two. It is a more sophisticated way of socialising that I am not sure I am accustomed to yet, although I am sure than in time the constant conversation about Love Island or what is at the top of my Spotify playlist will make a difference. A little part of me wonders whether I can ever go back to feeling my absolute self at work, discussing every little niggle in life and talking through all my problems with girlie work colleagues, both inside and outside of the office - But on the other hand, maybe I am not meant to be my full self at work, just the professional version of me. Maybe its just time to move on ... 

Anyhoo, arriving at the market it bought all the fun of it back when Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would all come down with one of our parents and I would look at all the handbags and shoes, hoping that one day I can afford to buy whatever I wanted and not just what the pocket money in my purse would get me. After scouting round from top to bottom of the market, perusing all the goods that everyone had to offer and working out which places we were going to buy what from we walked away with some supposedly John Lewis plush pillows, some pretty ballerina pumps with pom-poms on them, RayBan Sunnies, some T-shirts for Mr. Warehouse holiday wardrobe and some gorgeous smelling bath-bombs for me. A successful weekend I would say ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Adventures Ooop Nooorth!

How Do!

Five and a half hours on the road I was certainly ready to arrive. Winding through the curly lanes, I imagined what was beyond the black darkness of the Winter's evening. Beautiful Yorkshire countryside, fields for as far as the eyes can see and outstretched roads littered with cosy cottages. Speaking of which, here was ours now!

Pulling into the Farmhouse and row of stable converted cottages we had finally arrived. Parking little Vivienne outside in the gravelled courtyard we walked up to the large double wooden door, complete with slate tiled roof and original brickwork exposed exterior. Opening the front door we were bowled over as was the housekeeper that came to greet us by our beloved pooch who, it would have appeared was expressing just how much she was loving not speeding along the A1(M) by rolling around on the plush carpets and various shag-pile rugs comforting the floors. A snug layout, roomy enough for two and some furry friends comfortable the bedroom came first after the small porch where coat hangers and cubby holes exist for Winter accessories and cooler outer wears. Warmed thoroughly with the twinkling fairy-lights adorning the bed it was a romantic home from home with a window over looking the main road which with traffic a constant feature was certainly not so romantic I can assure you. The bed was soft and had lashings of soft furnishings not to mention the very fluffy authentic Sheepskin rug by the bedside. 

Lounge came next and as the two front windows looked out across the courtyard, the decor again carrying through the homely, kitsch country feel for the place incorporating the TV units, sofa and chairs as well as the many cushions, carefully chosen ornaments and candles. But the fireplace was the centrepiece of the room and it was a sight to behold. With a mantelpiece to die for and logs ready for our lighting we were more than ready to get that baby burning, maybe indulging in a little cuddle 'ont' shag-pile rug with our pooch as the flames blazed behind us. Through a short corridor into what I imagine was an extension to the original stables were a high spec bathroom with all the mod-con's and a kitchen equipped with most things you would need for a break away including picnic hampers, milk and cereals for the morning, all with views of the green wilderness of the gardens as your making a morning brew. So sweet!

Settling the mad dog in after she hounded every room exploring the exciting new environments as much as Mr. Warehouse and I were. Exhausted though we thanked our host and at nearly nine-at-night I could feel myself falling asleep. Making sure the pup was fed, watered and peed/pooped, my Boyfriend and I retired to the bedroom after a half-hour battle with our eyelids and the TV. And I honestly don't think I have fallen asleep so quickly, head hitting the pillow and off into dream land I went, experiencing again another strange dream, although thankfully not the nightmare I had the evening before in which Mr. Warehouse was awoken by my screams and in turn saved me from my slumbering torture. I cant even really remember what it was about although I know that I made a few wrong turns walking through some dark back alley's with my dear Mr. Warehouse and before I knew it I was being pulled about by gang members, Mr. Warehouse helpless in stopping them and there perverse plans for me. 

Waking in the morning as the cold sun broke through the cream curtains I revelled in the fact that I was somewhere new and had so much to explore. Throughout our trip we headed into York city centre most days tackling the bustling Christmas Market, York Chocolate Story and The Dungeons as well as off for long country walks with t'dog although with the weather being wetter than wet and colder than cold we were forced to turn back pretty early on. Later on in the final few days of our trip we headed our separate ways and after begging to go to the local Designer Outlet Mall, I finally had my opportunity as a football game was on and there was a pub showing the game right near the centre. So I did what every red-blooded women would do, dropped off the 'Mrs.' and headed to the discounted stores as fast as my lil' Vivienne would take me. No Mulberry discount-store unfortunately, although there was one (fully priced) store in the city centre, however there was a Ted (Baker) store and they were hosting some lovely discounted genuine products in which I may or may not (defiantly have) purchased a make-up bag. 

My favourite part of our trip though had to be spending some quality time with Mr. Warehouse and my step-pup, roasting our piggies by the roaring fire and eating naughty-naughtiness from our trips to the Christmas Market and York Chocolate Story. But suffice to say I am home now, with my little family and defiantly no log burning open-fire. Very upset about this. But it wont be that long until Christmas and next week we will have the excitement hopefully of seeing Our Little Furry Starlet's photos. Lets hope they're good. I suppose they should be though for three-hundred-quid ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Chinese Man Stole My Change & Other Tales of Brits Abroad!

Heyy, 

This was the last thing I needed before my holiday with the girls?! Issues with my phone. After completing a system/software update on my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note4, upgrading the operating system from Android Lollipop to Android Marshmallow (*Geeky snort* for being so nerdy) it decided to knock out all my contacts leaving me unable to access my address book, call log, or even my key pad to call 999 for emergencies. As scary and frustrating as this is I also lost all my contact names so if I was able to make any texts, which was difficult as the system would just crash after a few seconds of being in my messages, I couldn't know for sure who I was texting as my names-to-numbers had been lost. Frustratingly after several calls to Samsung, over nine-hours backing up all my data, a factory reset and an unsuccessful restore of data my phone is still running at the same speed as a Windows PC with Packard Bell 1994 installed. So god help the poor person that has to answer my next call to Samsung when I touch down in England because for the love of god I will rip them a new arsehole. 

Anyhoo! I am on holibobs in the serenity that is the Canaries. Lanzarote to be precise. Has it been hotty in Lanzarote? Sort of. After touching down on the island known famously for its volcanic rock and black sand beaches, we were finally allowed off the plane by our snotty Liverpudlian air hostess and through our very grumpy passport control. To be brutally honest, apart from him sitting on a chair I genuinely thought to myself as he slapped my passport back to me on the desk that he resembled something of a seven dwarf from the fairytale. But myself and my Tweedles were far from Disney Princesses, and after a manic half-day at work, stretching myself between trying to sort my phone out and actually doing some work of my own I was more than pooped. An uneventful coach journey to the resort and cheeky cigarette on the balcony, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were ready for bed.

Waking up on the first morn of our week long holiday together Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were very excited to get out and about and explore all the sites and sounds that the darkness had hidden from us the night before. Our hotel, a white-washed building typical of Spanish architecture is called Oceano and whilst is not a five-star resort, certainly is one of the nicest "Budget-Budget" holiday resorts we have stayed in, even if you do have to pay for everything from the Wi-fi to the Kettle. The room is large and allows us all to have a bed as opposed to one of us always having to kip on the couch. The large balcony, overlooking the pool and bar areas it is the perfect spot that allows all three of us to sunbath topless on days when there is no point wasting money on beach sun-loungers for twenty-minutes worth of sun. Heading to the beach we singled out many a restaurant and were slightly bemused by why there are so many Chinese establishments on such a small strip. Nevertheless we were all soon down to our carefully selected swim-wear, basking in the sunshine and soaking up all the tanning time we could. But, as always, we went too far. Myself and Miss Tweedle-Dee are currently still regretting having a little afternoon snooze on said beach whilst the sun blazed our skin, turning me especially into what can only be described as a Christmas Candy Cane when naked. Mr. Warehouse back home finds this side-splittingly hilarious. Aftersun at the ready we have slowly began to relieve the sting although the redness I fear will last long after we leave the island. I wanted a Beyonce Bronzed Glow about me when I returned to my desk, not a Coke Can Original Hue! 

Saturday was overcast and feeling like the holiday sun might be gone forever we took to trawling the shops for anything exciting to spend our hard earned and poorly exchanged Euro's on. It is definitely all tat that we don't need but for some odd reason five fridge magnets with penis' and bottle openers on for a Euro each seems very good value for money, even if it will get some strange gasps from Nanny Pumpkin when she comes round. I have however seen some exceptional examples of faux handbags. The 'designer inspired' handbags will certainly be going in my luggage at the end of the trip and suffice to say that with my haggling techniques I may have luck in bagging more than one, if you will excuse the pun. 

Heading to the market Yesterday was a highlight as it always is, however yet more tat graced the beautiful cobbled streets of ancient market town of Teguise. Enough faux Michael Kors and Mulberry to drown in and even more magnets with phallus shapes adorning them. Cotton anklets, friendship bracelets and wooden foldout fruit bowls were all sold to us as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I walked through the streets. Coming to the end of our tether we agreed on a coffee and a bite to eat in order to get some worth from the trip. A few hours or so wasted we headed back to the bus and headed home, none of us buying anything apart from a magnet and a thimble as souvenirs. 

Although the day was bleak, we still decided on the evening being a right old British knees-up, starting with what should have been a banging Chinese. although, as with many of the restaurants out here, you are simply not allowed to browse the menu outside, the owners and staff invite you in to look at the food, pressurise you if you would like a table, add you on Facebook, Invite you to their second-cousins wedding next year and convince you to be the birthing partner for Great Aunt Isabella. OK maybe taking it too far, but nevertheless I was thrust into the seat of a questionable all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet before I could even say Hello Kitty. After what was an OK meal, we all paid. However as I was the only one (I always am) to put in the incorrect money for the meal, I waited patiently for my change. I was to be waiting a long time for I think they mistook it as a gracious tip and kept it. Sipping on my weird-tasting apperifer, from a shot-glass that contained a naked, 1970's-styled porn star  with a large cock at the bottom I thought to myself that if the local Chinese thinks I am tipping them next time they bring me a delivery then they will be sorely mistaken. Afterwards we went to see a drag act which was funny if a little scary when he/she/it/they look your way!

Suffice to say that today has been better as I have spent most of the day lounging on the sunbed at the beach, taking trips to the ocean and rocks for a dip and on the odd occasion, with Miss Tweedle-Dumbs support of course, venturing out into the deepness of the Mediterranean ocean, away from the prying eyes of men in snorkels and children in goggles, to strip off and into the basic bathing suit that mother nature blessed us with, and all in the light of day. Honestly, nothing makes you feel more free or at one with the world than pulling off your bikini bottoms and unsnapping your bikini top. I found something out today as well that I have always wondered but never known how to achieve in the suburban environment of my homelands. Do Boobs float? Well I can tell you all today folks that yes, yes they do. And boy does skinny dipping give you the breast-lift you have always dreamt of. Oh yes. I would highly recommend anyone, heck everyone, skinny dipping and am glad that I have had the opportunity to brave the taboo. 

So right now the Tweedles are showering and making themselves beautiful for dinner tonight. They needn't have to though because on this holiday it has shown me just how much I love them and our friendship. After last weeks debacle with my father and how low I have been after accepting him as the selfish and arrogant arse he is, I am glad to have chosen-sisters who will always have my back, especially when the Chinese man decides not to give you back your change.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Surprise, Surprise!

Hello again,

I knew it would be too good to be true; I just knew it! So after months of dealing with a new issue every week with my landlord/estate agency I have discovered that I am being asked to leave. Suck I know! After complaining pretty much since I arrived at my new abode there has been a frenzy of issues some of which are still ongoing even as they issue me a notice to vacate.On viewing the property I was told that there was CCTV throughout communal areas so that health and safety is monitored as well as outside the property. This has never been installed inside the premises and does not record outside, only projects the video inside. Once I finally moved in I discovered a dirty bathroom and a window that did not open properly as well as just generally being unclean, all of which were due to be sorted out before I arrived. In the coming weeks and months I have had to deal with noisy and disrespectful neighbours who would regularly end up in a brawl, lack of equipment and appliances that were safe to use and fit for purpose, heating and hot water not working at all, my window being nailed shut during the heat of the summer and items of mine being pinched or stolen. It all came to a head a few weeks ago though when I went to use the hob and severely burnt myself resulting in me needing medical attention. I told my landlord and agency about this several times and yet it has taken them more than a month to apologise. But with that also came an email asking me to leave by the start of 2014. This is impossible and right before Christmas is unfair. Despite numerous emails I have had no luck so am preparing myself all I can so I stay on the right side of the law, although due to circumstances they may allow me to stay until the end of January. I'm sure Ill figure it out, I always do. Now enough about my rant and on with the show!

So after a rubbish Friday morning and realising I possibly have less than a fortnight to move out things weren't looking up for me. Despite this though I decided to stick it to the man and just go with the flow. My mentality as I placed my bum in my office chair that afternoon following lunch was fuck it. Fuck everyone and everything. Just fuck it all! And after a couple of tablets to clear a headache I was right as rain, firing through my work so I could see my Mr. Cheese and spend a glorious winter weekend being taken on a surprise weekends adventures! I had been told by the Cheese to meet me at his flat in West London before half-seven that evening and to be ready to leave soon after. So grabbing my case at home-time and hitching a ride with a colleague to the station I was excited and has out my morning behind me, promising to review it all on Monday.

After a swift and stress-free journey to London I arrived at the flat in good time. Early in fact. I'm never early. But I was. And nearly as soon as we got in we had to whizz back out again grabbing a healthy wrap from the local restaurant on the way. Briefly I had been given the evenings plans and before we knew it I was walking down a traditional avenue in an expensive borough of London towards glowing lights and faint music, slowly getting brighter and louder. As we crossed the road I saw that it was the infamous Kew Gardens. Tonight Mr. Cheese, that lovely man, had planned for us to go on a Christmasy woodland walk around the Royal park at her majesty's pleasure. As we began to wander round, cupping our steamy, mulled cider I watched as children played innocently amongst the trees. Now granted I'm not the most broody of ladies, but something that night made me more fertile to the idea - 'cuse the pun! Finally ending back up at the little wooden stalls and log cabins of the Yule-tide market we caroused the boutiques to see what gifts they may bear, although I got the impression I was being watched by someone that hadn't quiet bought any presents yet. I didn't mind though, and we had a wonderful evening pottering about and being together.

As the cold, December sun rose over the city I was still unaware of the plans Mr. Cheese had for us both for the rest of the day. As he plated up some crunchy, healthy, slightly cremated toast layered with Lemon Curd (I mean seriously, what else?) and a nice big mug of posh coffee, Mr. Cheese explained away his plan for the next few hours. We were to journey into the Capital and trawl around Borough Market, a place we had both been wanting to go to for a while. I was happy with this plan. Any man is brave when they are offering to take a girl out shopping, even if it is to a festive food market! Slightly saddened by the fact that we couldn't just slob it for the weekend, watch football (which is stupidly uncommon for me to do since I have had no interest in it ever!) and fuck, in between gorging ourselves in goodies. I pushed my thoughts to the back of my head thinking that I would be able to do plenty of that next weekend when I would be joining Mr. Cheese and his family for a Pre/Post-Christmas getaway to the countryside. And so slipping on my coat we left, venturing out into a crisp, sunny morning.

The market however was chocca-block with everyone in a manic rush to get cheese, wine, bread, cakes and more for the dinner table next week. I'm not going to lie I did feel a little suffocated at times but it was lovely waling around and seeing all the sights and smells of a good old fashioned market. Mr. Cheese and I even got to indulge in some cheese of our own, immediately catapulting us back to our first date; sat in the beer garden munching on cheese and cider. After finishing a in-depth discussion for our joint love of all things smelly in the fromage world I went to find some more free samples, but a hand grabbed me and pulled me back. "So where do you think you're going?" my dairy-fiend asked me. I replied simply and honestly I was going in search of more yummy nibbles to which his reply was simple, "I suppose you can but the table is booked for six". Gaze now averted to the bright blue eyes that stare back at me I ask him to carry on his explanation. And then Mr. Cheese kills me with the answer. "For dinner," he starts. "We shall be dining at the Michelin-star restaurant owned by a little chef called Raymond Blanc. But first I will be taking you on a the London Eye in a premier pod with Champagne!"

For a second I didn't know what to say. I just smiled inanely like a Cheshire cat on crystal-meth. The first words that fell out my mouth were exactly what I was thinking and that was how spoilt I was being treated. How I could have never worked out his plans. Everything suddenly felt like a dream and it felt like I had finally found someone that treated me like a princess. After some cuddles squashed up against a door from the market crowds we continued in hunt of free nibblets, after a while in which we headed back to the tube and to the landmark that is, The London Eye.

Arriving at the helm of such a large, white iron structure, Mr. Cheese wheedled his way through the hordes of tourists I stood by to take it all in. After joining the queue of other couples and sight-seer's we hopped (quiet literally) on board our pod and started our journey to the heights above London. Timed perfectly, it was sunset although due to the clouds in the sky there wasn't the best view but was still breathtaking. As I was handed a glass of Champagne, Mr. Cheese and myself clinked our flutes in a silent toast and as we turned to look at the illuminated skyline I couldn't help but think of more occasions where we could be drinking Champagne after a toast. I must note at this point that I'm not a weirdo and that all women have these thoughts at some point in life, just so happens mine are more frequent, but I don't hang onto the ideas and pragmatics of such like I had done with Mr. Workaholic. I have learnt well that those wedding bells may just be the chimes of the death cart! Back on solid ground we wandered off down the embankment lit up for a twilight walk and after popping into a nearby cafe to buy a homeless man a hot cup of tea, we ending up outside the front of an impressive red restaurant in which I felt very under-dressed for the establishment. Nevertheless we sat and ate at a small table near a Christmas tree, although being in an indecisive mood I decided to just copy whatever my date for the evening had.

That evening Mr. Cheese and I sagged into bed, our eyes heavy from the exhausting day. But whether Mr. Cheese had planned this or not is something I shall never know but after some pillow talk we finally got on with the main event. stripping each other naked and lying snuggled under the sheets I was taken higher than I ever could have gone on the London Eye, and more than once that evening too. Again and again and again I felt the build up of pure excitement, fizzing throughout my entire body. Making me shake with anticipation as Mr. Cheese held me there in a suspension of pleasure before letting me explode around him, crashing me into reality, but not for long before he made me soar once more. Oh, his hands. His wonderful, wonderful hands.

Sunday morning was somewhat uneventful, just a good old fashioned lye-in and some home-cooked food; i.e healthy, nutty toast again. Still reeling from the night before I was carrying on the orgasm for most of the day, complementing and praising his skills. I do hope Mr. Cheese doesn't get a too fat head for all of this publicity, haha! Despite having a pre-planned date with Mr. Rockclimber on Sunday afternoon I thought it best to head home and work out what I planned to do about the house situation and so after we had finished our teary cuddles we headed to a cafe for a sweet bite to eat before I reluctantly had to leave to get my train home, but not before the most intimate moment of my life so far this year, and I didn't even get my kit off...

As we lay there on Mr. Cheese's double-bed Sunday afternoon, we talked of how Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb worry me beyond belief about there own life stuff and the things that had troubled us both throughout the years. We discussed in great depth our battles with Depression and how we overcame the terrible grip it had on us. I thought to myself how indifferent we are and how normal such a disease really is. Opening up he told me how after his grandad died at the beginning of the year everything seemed to come all at once and the feeling of not being in control was one that I knew well enough to sympathise with. Lifting our spirits higher I mentioned how much of a better place we were both in now, and as Christmas ballads played softly in the background, my dear Cheese whispered his words of happiness at finding me and as he did so a small, wet tear fell. Sniffling, as tears rolled down his face I pulled him close into my chest and cuddled him tightly as he sobbed. I didn't know why or how this had even happened, all I knew is that it had maybe all boiled over and at that point he just needed to let go. I knew exactly what he was having to deal with and knowing that afterwards he would be happier for having a little weep. But as he pulled away from my warm embrace and as I wiped away his tears he explained that they were not tears of sadness but tears of joy and happiness that he had found someone like me. As my heart started to break and melt at the same time I pulled him in again to my bosom and for a second I thought even I might cry. Singularly the most touched I have ever been.

And so that concludes my week, or more so weekend. The house situation still has not been resolved yet but hopefully but this time next week I wont be homeless. Not that it would matter anyway. Its Christmas and I will be writing to you from a cosy cottage in the Winterylandscape of middle England, with Mr. Cheese and his family! Eeek! Don't worry, I am sure I shall have some tales to tell...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx