Hello All,
So praise Jesus and hallelujah! Finally the heat wave in Britain has come to an end. Now don't get me wrong I enjoy the warmer weather however, when Bedford was becoming more like the Bahamas it was certainly time to call it a day and welcome in the storms to clear away the heat and humidity that had surrounded me for what felt like ages. With the weather inside my office comparing to my grandma's fridge freezer what's the weather outside continue to blister on I was more than happy when the two polar opposites (excuse the pun) we're even out slightly by the fact that the outside temperature has dropped a few degrees. Us Brits 'eh we are always talking about the weather, and I suppose it could not have come at a better time as this weekend not just Glastonbury (no I did not have a ticket and yes it is a sore subject) but also the weekend that Mr. warehouses family all rally round and celebrate the matriarch of the family who passed away a few years ago in the year that Mr Warehouse and I met.
Granddad Next always seem to be the life and soul of every family event and whilst they are not all as great and wonderful as births, christenings and parties he was a corner pin for the family in time's of need during grief or pain. The Kingpin had married young as many of his generation did and was seemingly in a happy marriage until his wife passed away. The father of five children who went on to have many, many grandchildren never remarried and instead focus on things that you enjoyed in life such as pool, darts and family life. Growing up, Mr Warehouse would tell me the stories of how his granddad taught him how to win on the pool table, strike a bulls-eye and even a few naughty tricks on how to play Dirty! Living out the rest of his days in the local pub and Social Club in the village he would challenge his opponents guy yelling "NEXT" at the top of his little lungs, smiling as he welcomed another soul to try and beat him. With his children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren scattered all over the country from as far down as Cornwall and right up into the Scottish highlands there was always plenty of people to pop in and say hello. But once he had enough of you you should tell me about it as the radio would come on a Classic FM would blare out, Opera signifying that you have now outstayed your welcome.
Sadly though the inevitable happened and a few years ago Granddad Next passed away, surrounded by those he loved and cared for. The following year, on the anniversary of his death, The family came together once more to celebrate his life in a special way he would have been ever so proud of. And so it brings us to present day where Mr. Warehouse and I attend with all the other family members including the Cornwall-lot and Cambridge-lot to play a 'friendly' game of Pool and Darts. I always preferred the phrase Billiards to Pool, but I was swiftly told on my first introduction to such a memorial tournament that Billiards was far too posh.
Every year now there is a running theme; new babies to introduce, little children growing-up faster, new jobs, new travels, new faces and the forever questions on when Mr. Warehouse is going to make an honest women of me. Probably didn't help that I was wearing a full-length white Maxi-dress from Boohoo.com. I look forward to the days where mine and Mr. Warehouse's children can mingle with their cousins and second cousins from faraway land such as Newquay and Huntingdon, playing in the sunshine as we have done in the year before. In fact it is not all that hard to see myself in this family for a long, long time. So many faces that are happy to see me as am I to see them, some of them even old work mates from where Mr. Warehouse and I first met.
Mind you, I did make my welcoming into the family much easier me thinks with my own tradition, I hope anyway, and that is to make the cake. The first year I think it was something plain, or maybe I was so anxious I made nothing at all, however that does not sound much like me turning up to a event with nothing in my arms. Last year it was a Pool Table complete with balls, cue and plaque reading "NEXT" accompanied by dartboard cupcakes. This year I wanted to blow them away yet again with a creation of soft cupcake, creamy frosting and to top, a picture of our wonderful Granddad Next. But the question is what will be next? 2018's cake is already being manufactured and created in my head, I'm thinking bigger, better and more amazing than anyone can think of. I have some ideas but shall keep them secret and nurture them into next years hacking phase where I shall birth a sugary, cakey goodness. Due Date: Late June 2018!
Who could have predicted the legacy that this little old man would radiate, casting a spell over his generations of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. A true gentleman and someone I think Mr. Warehouse looks up to even to this day. He always talks about his grandfather so fondly and I hope that one day if I can be even half the pillar of the family as much as he was then I know I have done a good job.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Memorial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memorial. Show all posts
Monday, 26 June 2017
Monday, 25 July 2016
Ugly, Disgusting and Foul Smelling!
Hiya, How Do?
I like the Northern approach to life, it so friendly and non-threatening. I think sometimes I would pass right good for a Northernern. Ooooh, Whippets and Pies!
Nevertheless I am here to talk of my week in a less than warm Blighty. I mean whilst I did not appreciate all of the heat and humidity of last weekend I certainly did not ask for overcast skies and rainclouds for the rest of Summer 2016! Please change soon, I want to get my hopefully not so peely legs out. I suppose I experienced some of the heat this weekend since I spent most of late last week in the kitchen attempting to bake a beautiful Pool and Darts cake for an upcoming event.
Three years ago now, Mr. Warehouse and his family suffered a huge loss to their family - The Matriarch was gone. Mr. Warehouse's Grandfather AKA Momma Warehouse's Dad had passed away and had left the family in a grief I still see in my boyfriends eyes when he talks of his memories with his grandpops. Nevertheless so as to keep the tradition going and in order to help preserve his memory for generations to come, every year in the village he resided in, Marston Mortaine, They hold a special Pool and Darts afternoon followed by drinks at one of Mr. Warehouse's Uncles house across the road from the venue. I had attended last year but not brought anything but myself and after being introduced to everyone it was a bit overwhelming anyway. With a wedding only passing the weekend before we had plenty of cake to go around and as such I thought it would be a wonderful idea to make a cake myself to present to the table of honouring what would have been an amazing man to meet.
Sitting here last week I added myself to a group discussion about the memorial afternoon.evening and asked if anyone was bringing cakes or sweet treats. When no-one replied I thought I had been ignored but the following morning I had a few supporters and even more requests for different flavours. So I set to work, pottering about ideas and spending my morning commutes looking up videos and tutorials to make sure my cake blew the family away. Unfortunately I did leave it slightly late and after researching for more time than I should have been baking I set to work on Thursday night to bake the cakes needed for Saturday to come. Three batter mixes, twenty-four cupcakes cooling and three loaf tins baking I thought I had it all under control. That was until Mr. Warehouse came into the kitchen.
"Eww, whats that smell?!" he said sniffing the air surrounding the hard-at-work cooker. Joining in with the Smell-a-thon I exclaimed that my boyfriends comments were rude and unappreciated. My baking goods smelt fine and would be ready to come out of the oven soon. However some time later, the other half arrived back in the kitchen and proceeds to tel me that my baked, marble cake-loaves looked ugly and disgusting, going on to say that he, neither the seventy-odd guests would be eating 'that'. Absolutely broken I burst into tears. It was one step too far and the criticism from myself was bad enough without Mr. Warehouse jabbing the knife in and twisting it once more. Crying as I fell asleep that night my dearest Beau had eventually realised what he had said was cruel and unkind, apologising and making it up by saying that we both would have another go tomorrow. But it didn't make me feel any better about myself and with another day lost for preparation I was worried what I wanted would not be what I got.
The following morning I got up bright and early along with Mr. Warehouse and the dog, opting for making coloured icing as opposed to having a lay-in. Heading out to work I took with me the rejects of the cake party yesterday in the hope that my hungry work colleagues would go to town on them before 11am and everything would be forgotten. When asked why I had brought in such a copious amount of cake I explained to everyone that their ex-colleague and my boyfriends comments the previous evening were a result of them getting the outcasts telling them in detail about how he had called my cakes ugly, disgusting and foul smelling. Fits of laughter erupted as I was told that they smelled fine and tasted even better with one colleague even stating that maybe Mr. Warehouse was upset as it was him that was ugly, disgusting and foul smelling. This cheered me up but I did worry about the non-existent cake I was due to present the following afternoon. I had a list as long as my arm to try and get done as well as pick up a few bits before heading back to our home for the weekend at Momma Warehouse's, also in Marston Mortaine. After some much needed after works drinks and a few cigarettes over some gossip with Mr. Warehouse's Mother I set to work with Mr. Warehouse barely sticking to his promise and instead shouting a mixture of heavy criticism and basic instructions from the living room. I did not take kindly and after four hours it was finally over. I was done and the cake was finished. Not to my liking though. The details were missing such as the change slots on the side, ball viewer not to mention the cue and triangle thingymibob. I felt like a complete failure yet when Momma Warehouse saw it she welled up with tears and told me how wonderful it looked. I didn't want to upset her so became quiet with self-doubt and loathing the fact that I had only done what I had thought was a mediocre job.
Still as encouraging as ever, I woke on the morning of the memorial and hoped my driving lesson would go well enough I could come back and start on some of the features. I was lucky enough to have a fairly good lesson but with weeks to go before my Driving Exam in September I am more than bricking it, especially when I take more than a few times trying to Bay park before my driving instructor gives up and asks me to drive off somewhere else. Beating myself up about not only my inability to Bay park but also to bake and decorate a cake that doesn't look like Prince George had an input, I was certainly feeling far from great. Battling through though I dressed up and we all headed down to the venue. Presenting the Three-storey Pool Table cake and Cupcakes with mini dart boards adoring them I was pleased it was all over and as I watched people flock around it I knew I must have done something right. Noticing as the afternoon progressed that in fact they had obviously gone down a right treat, cupcakes all gone and so was the cake. Much a success. Although Mary Berry I am not.
Alls well that ends well, eh?! And I can tell you what else is worth while cracking out some cake for - Mr. Warehouse only went and bagged himself a full time permanent job earning just as much as me! Working where he is now at the Pharmaceutical Distribution place on the outskirts of town I think he is the happiest career wise he has ever been in the time I have known him. I am so pleased. Finally this means that Chrismas wont be as much of a stretch as last year and that we could finally head off to a cosy Christmas Market somewhere in Europe.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I like the Northern approach to life, it so friendly and non-threatening. I think sometimes I would pass right good for a Northernern. Ooooh, Whippets and Pies!
Nevertheless I am here to talk of my week in a less than warm Blighty. I mean whilst I did not appreciate all of the heat and humidity of last weekend I certainly did not ask for overcast skies and rainclouds for the rest of Summer 2016! Please change soon, I want to get my hopefully not so peely legs out. I suppose I experienced some of the heat this weekend since I spent most of late last week in the kitchen attempting to bake a beautiful Pool and Darts cake for an upcoming event.
Three years ago now, Mr. Warehouse and his family suffered a huge loss to their family - The Matriarch was gone. Mr. Warehouse's Grandfather AKA Momma Warehouse's Dad had passed away and had left the family in a grief I still see in my boyfriends eyes when he talks of his memories with his grandpops. Nevertheless so as to keep the tradition going and in order to help preserve his memory for generations to come, every year in the village he resided in, Marston Mortaine, They hold a special Pool and Darts afternoon followed by drinks at one of Mr. Warehouse's Uncles house across the road from the venue. I had attended last year but not brought anything but myself and after being introduced to everyone it was a bit overwhelming anyway. With a wedding only passing the weekend before we had plenty of cake to go around and as such I thought it would be a wonderful idea to make a cake myself to present to the table of honouring what would have been an amazing man to meet.
Sitting here last week I added myself to a group discussion about the memorial afternoon.evening and asked if anyone was bringing cakes or sweet treats. When no-one replied I thought I had been ignored but the following morning I had a few supporters and even more requests for different flavours. So I set to work, pottering about ideas and spending my morning commutes looking up videos and tutorials to make sure my cake blew the family away. Unfortunately I did leave it slightly late and after researching for more time than I should have been baking I set to work on Thursday night to bake the cakes needed for Saturday to come. Three batter mixes, twenty-four cupcakes cooling and three loaf tins baking I thought I had it all under control. That was until Mr. Warehouse came into the kitchen.
"Eww, whats that smell?!" he said sniffing the air surrounding the hard-at-work cooker. Joining in with the Smell-a-thon I exclaimed that my boyfriends comments were rude and unappreciated. My baking goods smelt fine and would be ready to come out of the oven soon. However some time later, the other half arrived back in the kitchen and proceeds to tel me that my baked, marble cake-loaves looked ugly and disgusting, going on to say that he, neither the seventy-odd guests would be eating 'that'. Absolutely broken I burst into tears. It was one step too far and the criticism from myself was bad enough without Mr. Warehouse jabbing the knife in and twisting it once more. Crying as I fell asleep that night my dearest Beau had eventually realised what he had said was cruel and unkind, apologising and making it up by saying that we both would have another go tomorrow. But it didn't make me feel any better about myself and with another day lost for preparation I was worried what I wanted would not be what I got.
The following morning I got up bright and early along with Mr. Warehouse and the dog, opting for making coloured icing as opposed to having a lay-in. Heading out to work I took with me the rejects of the cake party yesterday in the hope that my hungry work colleagues would go to town on them before 11am and everything would be forgotten. When asked why I had brought in such a copious amount of cake I explained to everyone that their ex-colleague and my boyfriends comments the previous evening were a result of them getting the outcasts telling them in detail about how he had called my cakes ugly, disgusting and foul smelling. Fits of laughter erupted as I was told that they smelled fine and tasted even better with one colleague even stating that maybe Mr. Warehouse was upset as it was him that was ugly, disgusting and foul smelling. This cheered me up but I did worry about the non-existent cake I was due to present the following afternoon. I had a list as long as my arm to try and get done as well as pick up a few bits before heading back to our home for the weekend at Momma Warehouse's, also in Marston Mortaine. After some much needed after works drinks and a few cigarettes over some gossip with Mr. Warehouse's Mother I set to work with Mr. Warehouse barely sticking to his promise and instead shouting a mixture of heavy criticism and basic instructions from the living room. I did not take kindly and after four hours it was finally over. I was done and the cake was finished. Not to my liking though. The details were missing such as the change slots on the side, ball viewer not to mention the cue and triangle thingymibob. I felt like a complete failure yet when Momma Warehouse saw it she welled up with tears and told me how wonderful it looked. I didn't want to upset her so became quiet with self-doubt and loathing the fact that I had only done what I had thought was a mediocre job.
Still as encouraging as ever, I woke on the morning of the memorial and hoped my driving lesson would go well enough I could come back and start on some of the features. I was lucky enough to have a fairly good lesson but with weeks to go before my Driving Exam in September I am more than bricking it, especially when I take more than a few times trying to Bay park before my driving instructor gives up and asks me to drive off somewhere else. Beating myself up about not only my inability to Bay park but also to bake and decorate a cake that doesn't look like Prince George had an input, I was certainly feeling far from great. Battling through though I dressed up and we all headed down to the venue. Presenting the Three-storey Pool Table cake and Cupcakes with mini dart boards adoring them I was pleased it was all over and as I watched people flock around it I knew I must have done something right. Noticing as the afternoon progressed that in fact they had obviously gone down a right treat, cupcakes all gone and so was the cake. Much a success. Although Mary Berry I am not.
Alls well that ends well, eh?! And I can tell you what else is worth while cracking out some cake for - Mr. Warehouse only went and bagged himself a full time permanent job earning just as much as me! Working where he is now at the Pharmaceutical Distribution place on the outskirts of town I think he is the happiest career wise he has ever been in the time I have known him. I am so pleased. Finally this means that Chrismas wont be as much of a stretch as last year and that we could finally head off to a cosy Christmas Market somewhere in Europe.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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