Evening,
So after feeling so helpless last week my emotions are still a little bit all over the place and I think that this will probably be the case until well after the funeral on Friday of this week. I still I still feel as though I'm not in control even though I don't necessarily need to be. I almost get the impression that there is something that I am forgetting to do organised or plan. Something has been missed off my to-do list and I'm terrified that it will be on the day and at that very moment that I need it that I choose to remember.
With all of this and more on my mind I felt that it would be an ample time to use some of the vouchers we got for Christmas on a spa day for Mr Warehouse and I. Well needed I think definitely I was looking forward to having some time relaxing and not thinking or worrying about anything. Including access to the swimming pool, sauna and steam room facilities plus a short treatment as well as a luscious afternoon tea with champagne was definitely what I needed. Arriving on on the day at the hotels reception, Mr Warehouse and I were welcomed into the premises with a nice cup of tea and coffee. Relaxing into the soft and comfy chairs of the Holiday Inn Corby lounge area we talked for a few moments and I wondered the last time we had had an opportunity to do such a thing together just the two of us. Truth we told that we hadn't actually probably since we had been to Bath back in late November. I think what with Christmas, New Year's, saving for the house and the more recent events of the last few months I will be the first one to admit that we probably have not spent that much quality time together just the two of us. Maybe I need to make some time for that. Hmmm ...
After chilling out on the lounges by the pool it was time for my treatment. Heading down to the spa and Treatment Rooms I was excited and glad to be massaged for the next 25 minutes. That was until I met the masseuse. Taking me into the treatment room everything was going swimmingly and I was describing exactly how I would like to feel after my massage and what areas I would like her to concentrate on. On leaving the room I took off my bikini top and lay down as instructed beneath the towel blanket. Coming back into the room the masseuse soon whipped off the towel only to reveal my bikini bottoms still on.
"Oh well those will need to be removed as they will make my blanket and bed wet. I'll leave the room again!" the masseuse said with a attitude problem. Feeling on edge and certainly far from relaxed I did as she asked and resumed my position on the bed. On coming back into the room she yet again tugged down the towel only this time, revealing my bare bum. Trying to think nothing else of it I tried to relax. This was especially difficult when I was told that I was not in the best position for right angle. At one point I obviously was not relaxed enough for her liking to which she grabbed my arm and flopped it back and forth in an effort to 'loosen it up'. I can only assume at that both my arms are pretty tense and knotted since the angry Scottish lady had to do this several times with each arm which only seemed to aggravate her even more. When it came to working up to my neck and shoulder area I wasn't even given the chance to be told what I needed to do or how to relax as best as possible as the masseuse just grabbed my head and pushed it into whatever position she needed.
Harping back to the days of my 2015 Blog post 'No Pain No Gain' of Mr. Masseuse, well I think I found his wife! I sometimes wonder to myself am I ever able to have a moment where life doesn't throw me a curve-ball or something as hilarious as this in order to be worthy of blog material. On finishing the massage I didn't think too much else of it and left the room feeling in a way on edge and not at all as though I had just had a relaxing massage. I was polite as ever and thanked the masseuse before exiting the spa only to see Mr Warehouse sat waiting for his treatment. I briefly explain to him that more likely than not he would have the same lady as I had and if this was the case then he should just relax, relax, relax! To be honest I would have just Shrugged it off as her attitude and something that may be had pissed her off earlier in the day had maybe put her in a foul mood, but when Mr Warehouse met me by poolside ready to go down for our afternoon tea, he too had explained how she had attempted the floppy arm manoeuvre on him also. Unfortunately the apparent desired effect have not had any workings on Mr Warehouse and therefore had been abruptly huffed at that if he was unable to relax his arms then there would be no point in her trying to massage them. We tried not to let it spoil the rest of our day however we would be lying to say that it didn't put a damper on it. Afternoon tea however was lovely and as ever very filling.
Sitting here now thinking about it and after talking to work colleagues today in the office about how my weekend went, I suppose in a way I do kind of feel a little bit let down and disappointed generally with the experience that Mr. Warehouse and I had. Especially since this was meant to be a relaxing Sunday afternoon before what was going to be a very busy, hectic and emotional week 4 not just me but also Mr Warehouse also as he tries to support me through a difficult time. The pressure to look, talk, act and be a certain way is still immense and the whole idea that things will just go as they are on the day is simply not sitting right with me, causing me to be highly anxious and constantly worrying about everything and anything that could go wrong.
It's becoming a bit stressful and overwhelming so truth be told I will be happy when I have said my part at the crematorium and event can relax with a drink or two, once I drive home of course. I worry constantly and feel like I am on a permanent wobble. I have even worried that this might be the beginning of that god awful cloud feeling.Sometimes I feel like I have to put on such an act for everyone, pretending to be happy-go-lucky and enjoying and loving life, Its long. I feel like I am forever walking on eggshells and scared of not upsetting someone or being inconsiderate or not saying or doing the right thing that its leaving me felling that whatever I do is never going to be good enough.
All I can hope is that what everybody is telling me is the truth and that going forward everything will be OK. I think maybe I just need to slow down, calm down and collect myself and my thoughts. Everything will be Okay. I'm sure of it.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Massage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Massage. Show all posts
Monday, 16 April 2018
Monday, 27 November 2017
Bed, Bath and Beyond ...
Evening!
Now dark and getting colder as we got deeper and deeper into the countryside of the Mendip Hills I was certainly ready to relax a little after being stuck in the driving seat for the last four-hours. The property itself was slightly difficult to find, especially in the blackness of the now early winters eve, but once found was easily located throughout our stay. On arrival we pulled over and called our host who promptly came running down the dirt track just as we pulled in. As lovely as ever, she told us to follow her young son down on the bicycle to where we would call home for the next few days. Trundling the country lanes to The Cabin, the owners had already lit the real log burning fire so on entering the humble abode it was toasty warm in comparison to the wet and windy chill that threatened our trip.
The Cabin itself compromised of a simple hallway and corridor with doors leading to the other rooms. A small "Snug" with a small sofa bed, poof / beanbag and a wall map was classed as the second bedroom and next door a large double bedroom with full length mirrored wardrobes and plenty of space for a cot or a chair at one end. Across the way from the "Snug" was the bathroom, equipped with a large shower and plenty of storage options as well as the normal bathroom items. Other end of the hallway was the kitchen come diner come lounge area where the stove was burning away nicely and the kettle was on. Everything was cosy and well equipped especially the kitchen. There was milk waiting in the fridge for us on arrival which was especially appreciated since we had forgotten this on our travels down. Although the sofa and arm chair were a tad on the small side and slightly dated we could not begrudge the owners just on this. Within moments of leaving I had suggested to Mr. Warehouse that had a hot tub been present the owners could well have charged double the £180-odd it was to stay there and would maybe have a few more bookings. It would certainly be an additional benefit and luxury I would have been delighted with.
Settling in Mr. Warehouse and I unpacked the car and made our way to bed after long days at work and a tiresome drive of a Wednesday evening. Waking on the following morning though was a certainly a lovely experience. With the aches and pains setting in from my personal training session the day before I was glad that I awoke to hearing Mr. Warehouse and Pup playing chase outside in the paddock. Listening to them run up the wooden steps to the front door I awaited the thud of paws and feet into the bedroom for my favourite people to bundle me on our new bed.
On finishing breakfast we bid farewell to our pooch as we headed out for our spa day in Bath. Now this is probably one of the most pricey things I have bought or paid for in a while and for £150.00 I really did hope that our afternoon at the UK's only Thermal spa - Thermae Spa Bath. What did I get for that sort of money you ask? Well firstly it was a half early Christmas present and half anniversary present for myself and also Mr. Warehouse too so the seventy-five quid price tag per person didn't seem too harsh on the wallet, not when you consider the four-floors of relaxation and renew including a sauna, two steam rooms, solarium, ice chamber, rain showers, Minerva pool, jacuzzi's, whirlpools and the pièce de résistance A roof top heated and lit pool overlooking the city and cathedral. Beautiful as that was I was also looking forward to the Thermae Treat spa package including a Reviver Back Massage, a Facial and a Head massage, To be fair, for the price that I paid (well for the price that I put on my credit card ... ) I think it was worth it. I loved the smell of the place and I can still catch a scent in my makeup brushes even this morning. Would I go again?! Definitely! However I would of course liked to have made it a full day of relaxing and more treatments to spread throughout the day, broken up with trips to the sauna and dips in the pools.
A walk through the Christmas Markets made me more happier at the content than that of York's disappointment last year. There was so much more, stalls and huts everywhere and down every nook or cranny there was even more. And after a relaxing Friday at The Cabin taking the pooch for a long woodland walk and cuddling up on the sofa for a session of crap telly and food bought from a local butchers in the town of Wells, Mr. Warehouse and I had returned to the Christmas Markets of Bath City Center in order to spend out our last full day in style. Mulled Wine, Warmed Cider, samples aplenty and tasty things everywhere I was certainly super impressed with the amount of produce and products on offer from the huts and stalls. So much more than any other UK based Christmas Market I had visited before, be it York, Birmingham, London or more local. As the (fake) snow fell from the night sky I was certainly disappointed to be leaving as despite ticking the Roman Baths off the tourist hot-spots list, there was still a fair amount of things I wanted to see and do including the Pulteney Bridge in the daytime (walked along it at night, although Mr. Warehouse was tired and becoming increasingly hangry by the moment). Taking long walks with my Beau and Puppy in the Jane Austen inspiring Prior Parks and gardens, Cheddar Gorge and Wookey Hole (although mainly for the cheese I must admit). All of this and more including trips to nearby Bristol, Weston-Super-Mare and other towns and villages in turn means Mr. Warehouse and I will just have to return. I suppose we best check out how that Thermae Spa is doing as well, you know, just to check. But I cant get holiday blues just yet since in less than seventy-two hours I will be in the wonderful winter wonderland of Prague. Here's hoping its not too chilly ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now dark and getting colder as we got deeper and deeper into the countryside of the Mendip Hills I was certainly ready to relax a little after being stuck in the driving seat for the last four-hours. The property itself was slightly difficult to find, especially in the blackness of the now early winters eve, but once found was easily located throughout our stay. On arrival we pulled over and called our host who promptly came running down the dirt track just as we pulled in. As lovely as ever, she told us to follow her young son down on the bicycle to where we would call home for the next few days. Trundling the country lanes to The Cabin, the owners had already lit the real log burning fire so on entering the humble abode it was toasty warm in comparison to the wet and windy chill that threatened our trip.
The Cabin itself compromised of a simple hallway and corridor with doors leading to the other rooms. A small "Snug" with a small sofa bed, poof / beanbag and a wall map was classed as the second bedroom and next door a large double bedroom with full length mirrored wardrobes and plenty of space for a cot or a chair at one end. Across the way from the "Snug" was the bathroom, equipped with a large shower and plenty of storage options as well as the normal bathroom items. Other end of the hallway was the kitchen come diner come lounge area where the stove was burning away nicely and the kettle was on. Everything was cosy and well equipped especially the kitchen. There was milk waiting in the fridge for us on arrival which was especially appreciated since we had forgotten this on our travels down. Although the sofa and arm chair were a tad on the small side and slightly dated we could not begrudge the owners just on this. Within moments of leaving I had suggested to Mr. Warehouse that had a hot tub been present the owners could well have charged double the £180-odd it was to stay there and would maybe have a few more bookings. It would certainly be an additional benefit and luxury I would have been delighted with.
Settling in Mr. Warehouse and I unpacked the car and made our way to bed after long days at work and a tiresome drive of a Wednesday evening. Waking on the following morning though was a certainly a lovely experience. With the aches and pains setting in from my personal training session the day before I was glad that I awoke to hearing Mr. Warehouse and Pup playing chase outside in the paddock. Listening to them run up the wooden steps to the front door I awaited the thud of paws and feet into the bedroom for my favourite people to bundle me on our new bed.
On finishing breakfast we bid farewell to our pooch as we headed out for our spa day in Bath. Now this is probably one of the most pricey things I have bought or paid for in a while and for £150.00 I really did hope that our afternoon at the UK's only Thermal spa - Thermae Spa Bath. What did I get for that sort of money you ask? Well firstly it was a half early Christmas present and half anniversary present for myself and also Mr. Warehouse too so the seventy-five quid price tag per person didn't seem too harsh on the wallet, not when you consider the four-floors of relaxation and renew including a sauna, two steam rooms, solarium, ice chamber, rain showers, Minerva pool, jacuzzi's, whirlpools and the pièce de résistance A roof top heated and lit pool overlooking the city and cathedral. Beautiful as that was I was also looking forward to the Thermae Treat spa package including a Reviver Back Massage, a Facial and a Head massage, To be fair, for the price that I paid (well for the price that I put on my credit card ... ) I think it was worth it. I loved the smell of the place and I can still catch a scent in my makeup brushes even this morning. Would I go again?! Definitely! However I would of course liked to have made it a full day of relaxing and more treatments to spread throughout the day, broken up with trips to the sauna and dips in the pools.
A walk through the Christmas Markets made me more happier at the content than that of York's disappointment last year. There was so much more, stalls and huts everywhere and down every nook or cranny there was even more. And after a relaxing Friday at The Cabin taking the pooch for a long woodland walk and cuddling up on the sofa for a session of crap telly and food bought from a local butchers in the town of Wells, Mr. Warehouse and I had returned to the Christmas Markets of Bath City Center in order to spend out our last full day in style. Mulled Wine, Warmed Cider, samples aplenty and tasty things everywhere I was certainly super impressed with the amount of produce and products on offer from the huts and stalls. So much more than any other UK based Christmas Market I had visited before, be it York, Birmingham, London or more local. As the (fake) snow fell from the night sky I was certainly disappointed to be leaving as despite ticking the Roman Baths off the tourist hot-spots list, there was still a fair amount of things I wanted to see and do including the Pulteney Bridge in the daytime (walked along it at night, although Mr. Warehouse was tired and becoming increasingly hangry by the moment). Taking long walks with my Beau and Puppy in the Jane Austen inspiring Prior Parks and gardens, Cheddar Gorge and Wookey Hole (although mainly for the cheese I must admit). All of this and more including trips to nearby Bristol, Weston-Super-Mare and other towns and villages in turn means Mr. Warehouse and I will just have to return. I suppose we best check out how that Thermae Spa is doing as well, you know, just to check. But I cant get holiday blues just yet since in less than seventy-two hours I will be in the wonderful winter wonderland of Prague. Here's hoping its not too chilly ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 21 December 2015
And the Award for the Most Productive Weekend with A Hangover Goes to ...
Top of the marning all,
Pheew! And party the weekend away I did! But strangely I have had a very productive weekend also. You see it all started on Thursday when, after work I headed into Town on my way home from work, stressful and as tiring as it always is, and went to get my nails done. Nearly an hour later, glossy glittery nails had befallen my finger tips and as I booked in my next appointment in February I knew that by then I would be very excited indeed at the prospect of being pampered once again! Trenching out into the blustery cold, wind and rain of a December night I picked up a few accessories from New Look and headed back home to Mr. Warehouse with Fish and Chips in toe to loosen the mood he was in after I had been shopping for several hours! Snuggling down in front of the Telly we leisurely wasted the next few hours on crap TV and takeaway before heading to bed for what I can only describe as some very heated moments between the sheets.
Friday morning I awoke and with my day off commencing with me lazy on the sofa in the lounge whilst Mr. Warehouse slept in I lost track of the time and rushed around to get ready for our day of relaxation and pampering before the moon rose and the stars came out to play. First on the agenda was a Full Body Massage booked in for myself and Mr. Warehouse. Now my dear Mr. Warehouse had never had a massage before (Well apart from that one time ... Anyway) and so as a anniversary treat I had booked him in with my Bi-Monthly rub-down. In preparation for the nights antics to follow I thought it would be a good idea, although now Mr. Warehouse does not think so much. A few 'Ohhs', 'Owws' and knots later finally we were freed and allowed to get dressed and discuss the treatments on a whole which for me was relaxing, but not with the other half in the room. Hmm, Honeymoon bliss by the beach, I think not. Next time I am advising myself to spa and Massage alone.
After we hit some shops for some last minute gifts we headed to a local 'posh' hotel for some Festive Afternoon Tea. Service as before was not the greatest and despite my desperate attempts to make it right in my head and justify the lack of staffing errors I couldn't help but succumb to the fact that it was simply a beautifully looking five-star appearing hotel, running a two-star service.
Dashing back home in enough time I managed (Somehow) to get ready in less than two-hours and was ready, waiting for the cab to collect us at seven-thirty. After a few moments my phone rang and after several minutes of explaining to the cab driver that he was at the wrong address - Twice?! - He finally turned up, albeit nearly twenty-minutes late. Arriving at the venue Mr. Warehouse and I skipped inside out of the cold chill of the night. But as we walked in I saw no faces I knew. Other works Christmas parties were already settled down and in there seats but my friendly work family were no-where to be seen.
"Maybe they're in the Bar next door" Mr. Warehouse ushered as we headed for the toilets. But as Mr. Warehouse sped into the gents I was greeted with a big hello from everyone as they came through from the Bar to the Restaurant areas. Kissing and hugging everyone as they walked passed in a possession line of familiar work colleagues I felt as though I was at a very fast paced wedding, greeting guests on their arrival.
Soon Mr. Warehouse was by my side and I was thoughtful that a year ago I graced this same wood floor only to have known Mr. Warehouse for a few short months and been dating him for less than that. Now a year on, I sat across from him with all our friends, and some of them Mr. Warehouse's family, enjoying a pretend Christmas Dinner and pulling crackers with people we spoke to most days. I was in my element and enjoying every moment of it. After the meal was finished I took the opportunity to get up and mingle. Quite frankly I was sick and tired of being stuck in a limbo between to ends of a conversation and with no way of getting out due to seating arrangements placing my by a damn door. Nevertheless I saw my moment when a lady next to me went to the bathroom and I bolted to the nearest table I saw Champagne. Turned out to be my boss and Sales Reps table in which they were all highly invested in a conversation about Christmas Dinner, that was until little old me and my low cut dress came along and wet more than just their appetite for a over-elaborate Sunday Roast.
As usual the evening ensued with my Sales Reps glancing more than necessary at my open chest, a few sexist and sexual remarks from engineers and a whole host of people taking the royal piss out of the money allocated for everyone behind the bar. Four-Hundred-Pounds spanked on booze for admittedly everyone, but some got more than others which frankly I thought was wrong and next year I plan at least to take more advantage of it than my measly two-ciders and a glass of Prosecco.
Ordering cabs and heading into town I had the most hilariously awkward and sexual conversation with my two Sales Reps and Mr. Warehouse I have ever experienced and something that whilst at the time seemed funny, now just fills me with anxiety and absolute embarrassment, although is still as I look back on it, very funny. It started out with me running to the Cab with Mr. Warehouse and my two sales reps behind me and I simply asked Mr. Warehouse if he had picked up my heels to which he said he had. The following Taxi journey I spent apologising to the poor Cabbie and explaining to everyone, including the driver that "Yes, sometimes a women must ditch all attempts at gardening and simply patio over the luscious foliage to keep one's downstairs in tacked."
More hilarious moment soon caught up as we headed to a local Nightclub in town and spent most the evening on the dance floor. Even my Big-Big Boss was seen throwing some odd shapes to songs which included the 'N' word too much for my liking. But I soon saw that Mr. Warehouse was not up for dancing all night and to be honest it got kind of same-y and boring. So at ten-past-three on Saturday morning we called it a night, collected my shoes and bag from the cloakroom and headed home, but not before a stop off at Subway to pick up Breakfast and what turned out to be lunch the next day. All in all the Annual Works Office Christmas Party wasn't, in my mind, as good as last year but I suppose the nostalgia of it being my first year with the company, having so much to drink I was plastered by the time the starters came out and being around everyone I loved and cared so much for I don't know now if any year can top that one!? We'll have to wait and see though.
Saturday itself was a very lazy day as I myself was the one who lied-in until gone midday, only to get up and move to the sofa-bed, already pulled out and occupied by that lovely Mr. Warehouse. Sunday was more productive though and after heading to town for a few super last minute bits, Mr. Warehouse and I spent the next seven hours straight wrapping Christmas Presents. I think I am an athlete at this now. I declare it as a sport of choice for the holiday season and as such I would like to crown myself queen of Sellotape and matching tags to paper with my specialist subject being the difficult wrappers! I did it. We did it! Only to realise moment later than in just a few days, under a week now, that wrapping paper and all my hard work with twirling, swirling, wrapping, sticking, popping and bow making will have all been a waste. Ahhh, what a way to spend the weekend, Eh?
So I suppose I won't speak to you now until the big man has come down my chimney and emptied his sack all over my Daddy's front room (No pun intended - Honest!). And to think that next time I write it may be of getting a Puppy or a Car or maybe even something better!?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Pheew! And party the weekend away I did! But strangely I have had a very productive weekend also. You see it all started on Thursday when, after work I headed into Town on my way home from work, stressful and as tiring as it always is, and went to get my nails done. Nearly an hour later, glossy glittery nails had befallen my finger tips and as I booked in my next appointment in February I knew that by then I would be very excited indeed at the prospect of being pampered once again! Trenching out into the blustery cold, wind and rain of a December night I picked up a few accessories from New Look and headed back home to Mr. Warehouse with Fish and Chips in toe to loosen the mood he was in after I had been shopping for several hours! Snuggling down in front of the Telly we leisurely wasted the next few hours on crap TV and takeaway before heading to bed for what I can only describe as some very heated moments between the sheets.
Friday morning I awoke and with my day off commencing with me lazy on the sofa in the lounge whilst Mr. Warehouse slept in I lost track of the time and rushed around to get ready for our day of relaxation and pampering before the moon rose and the stars came out to play. First on the agenda was a Full Body Massage booked in for myself and Mr. Warehouse. Now my dear Mr. Warehouse had never had a massage before (Well apart from that one time ... Anyway) and so as a anniversary treat I had booked him in with my Bi-Monthly rub-down. In preparation for the nights antics to follow I thought it would be a good idea, although now Mr. Warehouse does not think so much. A few 'Ohhs', 'Owws' and knots later finally we were freed and allowed to get dressed and discuss the treatments on a whole which for me was relaxing, but not with the other half in the room. Hmm, Honeymoon bliss by the beach, I think not. Next time I am advising myself to spa and Massage alone.
After we hit some shops for some last minute gifts we headed to a local 'posh' hotel for some Festive Afternoon Tea. Service as before was not the greatest and despite my desperate attempts to make it right in my head and justify the lack of staffing errors I couldn't help but succumb to the fact that it was simply a beautifully looking five-star appearing hotel, running a two-star service.
Dashing back home in enough time I managed (Somehow) to get ready in less than two-hours and was ready, waiting for the cab to collect us at seven-thirty. After a few moments my phone rang and after several minutes of explaining to the cab driver that he was at the wrong address - Twice?! - He finally turned up, albeit nearly twenty-minutes late. Arriving at the venue Mr. Warehouse and I skipped inside out of the cold chill of the night. But as we walked in I saw no faces I knew. Other works Christmas parties were already settled down and in there seats but my friendly work family were no-where to be seen.
"Maybe they're in the Bar next door" Mr. Warehouse ushered as we headed for the toilets. But as Mr. Warehouse sped into the gents I was greeted with a big hello from everyone as they came through from the Bar to the Restaurant areas. Kissing and hugging everyone as they walked passed in a possession line of familiar work colleagues I felt as though I was at a very fast paced wedding, greeting guests on their arrival.
Soon Mr. Warehouse was by my side and I was thoughtful that a year ago I graced this same wood floor only to have known Mr. Warehouse for a few short months and been dating him for less than that. Now a year on, I sat across from him with all our friends, and some of them Mr. Warehouse's family, enjoying a pretend Christmas Dinner and pulling crackers with people we spoke to most days. I was in my element and enjoying every moment of it. After the meal was finished I took the opportunity to get up and mingle. Quite frankly I was sick and tired of being stuck in a limbo between to ends of a conversation and with no way of getting out due to seating arrangements placing my by a damn door. Nevertheless I saw my moment when a lady next to me went to the bathroom and I bolted to the nearest table I saw Champagne. Turned out to be my boss and Sales Reps table in which they were all highly invested in a conversation about Christmas Dinner, that was until little old me and my low cut dress came along and wet more than just their appetite for a over-elaborate Sunday Roast.
As usual the evening ensued with my Sales Reps glancing more than necessary at my open chest, a few sexist and sexual remarks from engineers and a whole host of people taking the royal piss out of the money allocated for everyone behind the bar. Four-Hundred-Pounds spanked on booze for admittedly everyone, but some got more than others which frankly I thought was wrong and next year I plan at least to take more advantage of it than my measly two-ciders and a glass of Prosecco.
Ordering cabs and heading into town I had the most hilariously awkward and sexual conversation with my two Sales Reps and Mr. Warehouse I have ever experienced and something that whilst at the time seemed funny, now just fills me with anxiety and absolute embarrassment, although is still as I look back on it, very funny. It started out with me running to the Cab with Mr. Warehouse and my two sales reps behind me and I simply asked Mr. Warehouse if he had picked up my heels to which he said he had. The following Taxi journey I spent apologising to the poor Cabbie and explaining to everyone, including the driver that "Yes, sometimes a women must ditch all attempts at gardening and simply patio over the luscious foliage to keep one's downstairs in tacked."
More hilarious moment soon caught up as we headed to a local Nightclub in town and spent most the evening on the dance floor. Even my Big-Big Boss was seen throwing some odd shapes to songs which included the 'N' word too much for my liking. But I soon saw that Mr. Warehouse was not up for dancing all night and to be honest it got kind of same-y and boring. So at ten-past-three on Saturday morning we called it a night, collected my shoes and bag from the cloakroom and headed home, but not before a stop off at Subway to pick up Breakfast and what turned out to be lunch the next day. All in all the Annual Works Office Christmas Party wasn't, in my mind, as good as last year but I suppose the nostalgia of it being my first year with the company, having so much to drink I was plastered by the time the starters came out and being around everyone I loved and cared so much for I don't know now if any year can top that one!? We'll have to wait and see though.
Saturday itself was a very lazy day as I myself was the one who lied-in until gone midday, only to get up and move to the sofa-bed, already pulled out and occupied by that lovely Mr. Warehouse. Sunday was more productive though and after heading to town for a few super last minute bits, Mr. Warehouse and I spent the next seven hours straight wrapping Christmas Presents. I think I am an athlete at this now. I declare it as a sport of choice for the holiday season and as such I would like to crown myself queen of Sellotape and matching tags to paper with my specialist subject being the difficult wrappers! I did it. We did it! Only to realise moment later than in just a few days, under a week now, that wrapping paper and all my hard work with twirling, swirling, wrapping, sticking, popping and bow making will have all been a waste. Ahhh, what a way to spend the weekend, Eh?
So I suppose I won't speak to you now until the big man has come down my chimney and emptied his sack all over my Daddy's front room (No pun intended - Honest!). And to think that next time I write it may be of getting a Puppy or a Car or maybe even something better!?
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 3 August 2015
No Pain, No Gain!
Hey Ya'll,
Ever wondered what its like to be a lady who lunches all the time. An unemployed busy-body whose husband is always working away, you probably have children in private school, and a friend circle which including the names Pippa, Harriet and Felicity. A wonderfully luxurious cocktail of Pilate's, Champagne afternoon tea and sneaky Tuesday afternoons stolen with a gardener whom tends to not only your roses but you as well, right after Murder She Wrote. Ahh yes, and the husband doesn't even know a thing!
One thing that posh ladies who are unemployed do is go for spa days and massages on a regular basis, and as a wanna-be-posho, I try to keep up with this trend by booking in a massage every couple of months or so to relieve all the tension that builds up through people generally just getting on my fucking wick! However, my normal salon, which is college based training new, upcoming college-grad's on the best techniques and methods, was closed for the summer break and so I booked in with somewhere new. And so, walking into the new Chiropractic Surgery and taking a seat I glanced round the converted 19th Century waiting room. As the pre-twenty-something receptionist handed me a clipboard I read through the registration form before filling it out as best I could. After a quick pop to the little girls room I was ready to be rubbed down and have all the tension of the past few weeks eased away.
Soon I was greeted by a tall gentleman, softly spoken with a wonderfully smooth and relaxing voice, possibly even sexy to an extent. He welcomed me into the small but airy consulting room and ushered me to sit on the massage table. Seating myself we talked for a few minute about my specific areas of tension and 'tight areas'. But with such a chocolatey-velvet voice I struggled not to imagine this as a weird porno whereby I would have added extras to complete my "treatment". To look at the poor man he wasn't that much of a painting, or at least not for me. He was no Mr. Warehouse put it that way. But Mr. Masseuse was very calming and relaxed in his attitude, especially given the fact he was sat bouncing softly on a Pregnancy Ball. Fairly young, probably no older than early-thirties, blonde hair - short but messy and with a twang in his husky voice that seemed European, or at the very least well travelled I listened carefully as he grilled me on not drinking enough water.
As he got up and left the room, I undressed down to my panties as I usually would and did that odd shuffle you do when trying to get onto the massage table whilst attempting to keep my dignity and not look like a dead seal by the time the Masseuse comes back, which is always milliseconds after they initially leave. Placing my head in the doughnut I saw two feet appear, clad in a socks and sandals combo.
"Yes, that's defiantly got 'home-schooled in Prague' written all over it!" I thought to myself as he lubed - I mean oiled up! Getting cringier by the minute he awkwardly asked if he could undo my bra and after saying yes politely it was unclasped quicker than you could say 'Playaaa'.
As he started to work on my shoulders I winced at the pain.
"This is meant to be relaxing not punishing?!" I pondered, gritting my teeth through the searing sting. "Or maybe that's what he wanted?!" my mind said, altering what was a normal visit to the Chiropractors into something much seedier.
"Wouldn't it be hilarious if there was a mirror on the floor so you can see your face crumple when you are kneaded within an inch of your life by a smooth talking, beardy European man with no clear sense of sandal-etiquette" I chuckled to myself as I braced once more for his powerful push.
As time went on I wondered if it would ever end and I will just get a nice smooth caress. No. The pain and struggle continued as Mr. Masseuse stretched, pulled and pushed my back like he was making a loaf of bread.
"I will pay for my kindness and inability to saying ease up on the pressure tomorrow" I thought to myself wrenching once more as he Mr. Masseuse bore into my spine once more with his knuckles. It was almost laughable in some instances, especially when he went up round the back of my neck, a sensitive, sweet-spot anyway. I think the fact that he was discussing a "friend" of his whom enjoyed the feel of ladies walking on his back didn't help to stifle the sniggers and in all fairness I was just waiting to feel something oddly shaped and sticky on my back.
But again and again I watched those socked-up, granddad-trainer-sandals pace in front and to the sides of me ready to deliver the sharp pinch of back-fat. Suddenly, as if the pain in my shoulders and spinal column wasn't enough to leave me paralysed, I felt a sharp jab on my Love-handle. And again, this time rolling the burn from my tail-bone to my hip. This had gone from what I envisaged as an oddly erotic, 1980's style porno, to a full blown BDSM, bondage sesh with zero safe-word. No longer could I contain my torture and out escaped a little "Eeeep"!
"What was that?!" I scolded myself, wondering if Mr. Masseuse though he may have stepped on a mouse. But alas, the agony had somewhat eased. I was tender in a spot I never even knew was tender! I was more sore their than anywhere else on my body. But after a few more 'oohs', 'ahhs' and "Eeeeps", the agonising manoeuvres were met with some reassuring 'hmms' from Mr. Masseuse. Kindly he said that my sides and the bottom of my back was seized up and needed to be released. Listening to his creamy tones I soaked up the moments of painlessness. But then a jab. Right to the buttocks. And then the other. Right in the middle of each Arse-cheek. Under my bum. On the sides of my bum and back to the middle of each cheek again. "That hurt. That really hurt!" I squealed in my head. Agreeing with my pain he pokes some more along my thighs and concludes that whilst they are not the problem, my derrière, love-handles and calves were all seized up and needed to be "worked on".
Facial distortion over with I was finished off (No Pun Intended!) with a firm rub to the nape of my neck to which made me squirm with a cold mixture of delight, tickles and the gratefulness that my hour-long ordeal with Mr. Masseuse was nearly over with. But then, just as I had contained my giggles so far he came out with the phrase "Mmm, yes. Your neck is spasticated." And oh dear. It had slipped out in a pure gaffeur of excitement and hilarity. Laughing and chuckling away to myself, imagining partly the look on my Mr. Masseuse's face and also reliving those words in my head I tried to excuse my behaviour by stating that I was ticklish their. I mean how old was I - Four!?
With a buttery-smooth response, slightly sexy in a way from Mr. Masseuse saying that "it's be its OK to be ticklish" I was brought back into the room, in my imagination now with red and black walls, dimly lit and smelling of candle wax; When in reality it was still light outside and with a cool but warm breeze through the third floor sash window. Slowly and rather gently wiping off the excess oils Mr. Masseuse exited the room and I swiftly shot up and snatched at my clothes, shoving them on as quickly as I could, knowing Mr. Masseuse was waiting behind the frosted glass door. After I was dressed I invited him back into his room and listened to all the things he had to say about my body and how to try and alleviate some of the stresses in it.
Granted I have probably over-exaggerated the whole BDSM, rough and ready, porno vibe but in my mind it sounds better than a whitewashed Chiropractic Surgery in which a Professional well-educated man with a slight accent massages the aches and pains of an overly excited twenty-three-year-old. Nevertheless I left the Treatment room, glad to be home safe in the knowledge that I will not be signing up to a life-time of luxurious mani's, pedi's and massages any time soon, and certainly not to the sado-masochistic Mr. Masseuse with his dulcet tones, heavy handed nature and odd footwear choices
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Ever wondered what its like to be a lady who lunches all the time. An unemployed busy-body whose husband is always working away, you probably have children in private school, and a friend circle which including the names Pippa, Harriet and Felicity. A wonderfully luxurious cocktail of Pilate's, Champagne afternoon tea and sneaky Tuesday afternoons stolen with a gardener whom tends to not only your roses but you as well, right after Murder She Wrote. Ahh yes, and the husband doesn't even know a thing!
One thing that posh ladies who are unemployed do is go for spa days and massages on a regular basis, and as a wanna-be-posho, I try to keep up with this trend by booking in a massage every couple of months or so to relieve all the tension that builds up through people generally just getting on my fucking wick! However, my normal salon, which is college based training new, upcoming college-grad's on the best techniques and methods, was closed for the summer break and so I booked in with somewhere new. And so, walking into the new Chiropractic Surgery and taking a seat I glanced round the converted 19th Century waiting room. As the pre-twenty-something receptionist handed me a clipboard I read through the registration form before filling it out as best I could. After a quick pop to the little girls room I was ready to be rubbed down and have all the tension of the past few weeks eased away.
Soon I was greeted by a tall gentleman, softly spoken with a wonderfully smooth and relaxing voice, possibly even sexy to an extent. He welcomed me into the small but airy consulting room and ushered me to sit on the massage table. Seating myself we talked for a few minute about my specific areas of tension and 'tight areas'. But with such a chocolatey-velvet voice I struggled not to imagine this as a weird porno whereby I would have added extras to complete my "treatment". To look at the poor man he wasn't that much of a painting, or at least not for me. He was no Mr. Warehouse put it that way. But Mr. Masseuse was very calming and relaxed in his attitude, especially given the fact he was sat bouncing softly on a Pregnancy Ball. Fairly young, probably no older than early-thirties, blonde hair - short but messy and with a twang in his husky voice that seemed European, or at the very least well travelled I listened carefully as he grilled me on not drinking enough water.
As he got up and left the room, I undressed down to my panties as I usually would and did that odd shuffle you do when trying to get onto the massage table whilst attempting to keep my dignity and not look like a dead seal by the time the Masseuse comes back, which is always milliseconds after they initially leave. Placing my head in the doughnut I saw two feet appear, clad in a socks and sandals combo.
"Yes, that's defiantly got 'home-schooled in Prague' written all over it!" I thought to myself as he lubed - I mean oiled up! Getting cringier by the minute he awkwardly asked if he could undo my bra and after saying yes politely it was unclasped quicker than you could say 'Playaaa'.
As he started to work on my shoulders I winced at the pain.
"This is meant to be relaxing not punishing?!" I pondered, gritting my teeth through the searing sting. "Or maybe that's what he wanted?!" my mind said, altering what was a normal visit to the Chiropractors into something much seedier.
"Wouldn't it be hilarious if there was a mirror on the floor so you can see your face crumple when you are kneaded within an inch of your life by a smooth talking, beardy European man with no clear sense of sandal-etiquette" I chuckled to myself as I braced once more for his powerful push.
As time went on I wondered if it would ever end and I will just get a nice smooth caress. No. The pain and struggle continued as Mr. Masseuse stretched, pulled and pushed my back like he was making a loaf of bread.
"I will pay for my kindness and inability to saying ease up on the pressure tomorrow" I thought to myself wrenching once more as he Mr. Masseuse bore into my spine once more with his knuckles. It was almost laughable in some instances, especially when he went up round the back of my neck, a sensitive, sweet-spot anyway. I think the fact that he was discussing a "friend" of his whom enjoyed the feel of ladies walking on his back didn't help to stifle the sniggers and in all fairness I was just waiting to feel something oddly shaped and sticky on my back.
But again and again I watched those socked-up, granddad-trainer-sandals pace in front and to the sides of me ready to deliver the sharp pinch of back-fat. Suddenly, as if the pain in my shoulders and spinal column wasn't enough to leave me paralysed, I felt a sharp jab on my Love-handle. And again, this time rolling the burn from my tail-bone to my hip. This had gone from what I envisaged as an oddly erotic, 1980's style porno, to a full blown BDSM, bondage sesh with zero safe-word. No longer could I contain my torture and out escaped a little "Eeeep"!
"What was that?!" I scolded myself, wondering if Mr. Masseuse though he may have stepped on a mouse. But alas, the agony had somewhat eased. I was tender in a spot I never even knew was tender! I was more sore their than anywhere else on my body. But after a few more 'oohs', 'ahhs' and "Eeeeps", the agonising manoeuvres were met with some reassuring 'hmms' from Mr. Masseuse. Kindly he said that my sides and the bottom of my back was seized up and needed to be released. Listening to his creamy tones I soaked up the moments of painlessness. But then a jab. Right to the buttocks. And then the other. Right in the middle of each Arse-cheek. Under my bum. On the sides of my bum and back to the middle of each cheek again. "That hurt. That really hurt!" I squealed in my head. Agreeing with my pain he pokes some more along my thighs and concludes that whilst they are not the problem, my derrière, love-handles and calves were all seized up and needed to be "worked on".
Facial distortion over with I was finished off (No Pun Intended!) with a firm rub to the nape of my neck to which made me squirm with a cold mixture of delight, tickles and the gratefulness that my hour-long ordeal with Mr. Masseuse was nearly over with. But then, just as I had contained my giggles so far he came out with the phrase "Mmm, yes. Your neck is spasticated." And oh dear. It had slipped out in a pure gaffeur of excitement and hilarity. Laughing and chuckling away to myself, imagining partly the look on my Mr. Masseuse's face and also reliving those words in my head I tried to excuse my behaviour by stating that I was ticklish their. I mean how old was I - Four!?
With a buttery-smooth response, slightly sexy in a way from Mr. Masseuse saying that "it's be its OK to be ticklish" I was brought back into the room, in my imagination now with red and black walls, dimly lit and smelling of candle wax; When in reality it was still light outside and with a cool but warm breeze through the third floor sash window. Slowly and rather gently wiping off the excess oils Mr. Masseuse exited the room and I swiftly shot up and snatched at my clothes, shoving them on as quickly as I could, knowing Mr. Masseuse was waiting behind the frosted glass door. After I was dressed I invited him back into his room and listened to all the things he had to say about my body and how to try and alleviate some of the stresses in it.
Granted I have probably over-exaggerated the whole BDSM, rough and ready, porno vibe but in my mind it sounds better than a whitewashed Chiropractic Surgery in which a Professional well-educated man with a slight accent massages the aches and pains of an overly excited twenty-three-year-old. Nevertheless I left the Treatment room, glad to be home safe in the knowledge that I will not be signing up to a life-time of luxurious mani's, pedi's and massages any time soon, and certainly not to the sado-masochistic Mr. Masseuse with his dulcet tones, heavy handed nature and odd footwear choices
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)