Late Nights & Christmas Lights

Hi Everyone, 

Goodbye snotty nose, cough, and dry throat! For once I am sickness-free and finally totally back to little old me again. But that might not stay as I have my COVID booster booked in this week. 

Whilst we discussed last week that many more people have been not only singularly but doubly vacc'd, some people, like yours truly has even been offered a third vaccine to protect them from this disease and all of its variants and mutations. Government figures show that so far, 89% of people aged 12 and over in the UK have had their first vaccine dose, 81% have had their second and 36% have had a booster. The BBC confirms there have been more than half a million confirmed cases of coronavirus in the UK in the last week, however, the number of dead has not increased since my last blog post.

The British broadcaster's website explains in an article by James Gallagher, a Health and science correspondent, that whilst some scientists have described the new variant of  COVID19 (Omicron) as milder than earlier versions of Coronavirus, such as Delta. Although of course, it would not be fair to only listen and read up on one side of the argument. And so we need to establish that science in its very nature is rather subjective and as such, some academics in the Science industry have claimed that Omicron had such a long list of mutations that it was being described in articles as "horrific" and the worst variant they'd seen. 

Omicron, named by the World Health Organization, following the pattern of Greek code-names like the Alpha and Delta variants has now been detected in more than 30 countries and there are signs it may be able to bypass some of our immunity. Great! But a lot of mutation doesn't automatically mean: bad. It is important to know what those mutations are actually doing explains James Gallagher in the article. 

Whilst there are fears that Omicron could be more infectious and less responsive to vaccines personally feel as though the aforementioned "precautions" are being taken a little too prematurely. At least wait until scientists can properly assess what the new variant's impact could be and then jump into Hands-Face-Space-Repeat. But then I suppose if this did all blow up and went to shit we would all be blaming BoJo and his friends for not acting quickly enough. Like a lot of people I know, I am totally unnerved and somewhat untrusting of the government, especially after the shit show that was last Christmas and the close to years in totality we have now had to spent locked in, locked down, and isolated. 

All we can do is hope and pray and enjoy our freedom as it stands at the moment. And I did such that on Saturday even when, as always, I went for a nice relaxed and quiet catch-up with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat. It was the first time since Mr Warehouse and I got married that I had seen Miss Sugar-Coat and I was excited to fill her in and hear all about her life too. But as it always happens (and I don't know why I thought this time would be any different) no sooner had our food arrived on the table at Baja, a casual Mexican restaurant in the heart of Bedford Town, we were already planning to leave. 

Not one to turn down an invite, Miss Hackney and I "joined" Miss Sugar-Coat and basically gate-crashed her work Christmas party. A good few hours of drinking ensued, several shots of Tequila and many bottles of wine and champagne, many we had not put our hand in our pocket for. It wasn't long before we were dancing on the top floor of some nightclub and stealing fresh air and conversing with all sorts of messy characters. As the night progressed, Miss Hackney and I left Miss Sugar-Coat and her colleagues to it and headed to another bar. Although we were refused entry to one, goodness knows why and nearly kicked out of another for smuggling in a bottle of Rose. Within a couple of hours though I was headfirst into a bin and remembering what my Chimichanga tasted like the first time. 

The following day I woke up, remembering how Mr. Warehouse was collecting our nieces and nephews this afternoon so we could have a Christmas craft day whilst their Mom and Dad helped "Santa" out with some last-minute bits. I had hoped that it would be a quiet afternoon in front of the telly, cuddled up with snacks watching The Grinch. I mean it worked for a little bit, and the crafts and colouring allowed me another hour or so but boredom was afoot. However, on noticing we have yet to put up our decorations there was soon "something" to do. Dreading it I was actually pleasantly surprised that the tree wasn't top-heavy being decorated all in one place with little hands. I was quite proud of my youngest Nephew, taking on the role of chief detangler of Christmas tree lights and deputy tree dresser. 

And so as I sit here now, dogs cuddled up around me and Mr Warehouse watching the football, we are sat here in the glow of the Christmas tree, all in the knowledge that had the kids not pestered me to get up from my pit and dress the house in Xmas joy and tinsel, then it would have been another weekend passing without decorations in our home. I don't know why they abolished child labour, they seem to have so much fun, and secretly, so did I. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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Last Year of my Twenties ...

Evening, 

Strolling into the office, I was feeling excited I had less than a few hours left before a weekend of fun and birthtday activities. Friday was my 29th year on the planet, gracing you all with my precence (haha) and I was certain to make the damned most of it, COVID or not! And so after a dental appointment Thursday afternoon I poured myself a nice big glass ofof the good stuff and enjoyed a night of telly, all in the knowledge I would be jam-packed with people to see and places to go come tomorrow. 

Friday morning came soon enough though and just like the good old days I dropped Mr Warehouse to work, but not before a cheeky McDonald's Breakfast. The start to the day of kings, or at least this one. Double sausage and egg McMuffin meal with a large toffee-nut latte and side of hash brown. Winning! Once back at home I settled in for the morning as the sun continued to rise, watching crappy daytime TV and snoozing with the pups, all before heading out for a spot of what I hoped would be lucrative Halloween shopping however proved fruitless. But the best was yet to come as arriving back home I had a treat in store, well for my oven at least. 

Ever since moving in (nearly two-years ago now) Mr Warehouse and I have been meaning to clean the oven. I know, I know. It is a horrible dirty little secret but telling you all I am sure I am not the only one who has had every intention of sitting there on the kitchen floor of a weekend afternoon, desperatly trying to work out how the oven door comes off whilst the wire racks and trays sit on the counter-top fizzing in bicarb and vinegar. Alas, my future husband and I had all the best ideas when purchasing Oven Pride over 18-months-ago, but there is always something (anything) better to do of a weekend than spent scrubbing on all fours trying not to get bummed into the cooker Hansel and Gretel style by lover boy over there. And so I bought a service so that they would come along, clean and srub all my dirtiness away and leave it gleaming so I can (now) stay n top of it so I dont have the embarressment of calling someone out again and having to lie (unconvincingly) through my teeth that it was only cleaned six-months ago. 

Following the collection of Mr Warehouse we headed home for a bit until it was time to leave for some QT with Miss Tweedle-Dee. Although on arrival her new gaff was packed with her Mom, Dad and not-so-little brother as well as Miss JoHo (now not a Jehovahs Witness). Lots of alcohol followed with some good laughs and giggles. But turning 29, the last few days on the run-up had been reflective. This will be the first year without my Scottish Grandmother and her force of nature was certainly missing from my life, something I have been feeling more now that I ever did before. I dont know, maybe it is the fact that unlike when my Granddad passed away, I still continue to get birthday and Christmas cards from my Nanny Pumpkin, they just dont have the inclusion of "and Granddad" at the end. But this year, it will just be nothing. No "lots of love and hugs and god bless". No funny tongue in cheek card. No money wrapped up carefully in tinfoil. Nothing. And since Scottish Granda' passed long before I knew of grandparents and the impact they have on a growing human, this is the end of an era. 

Saturday my head was fuzzy to say the least, but continuing with the fun (and after doing menial tasks like lumping our old triple wardrobe about the place for someone who came to buy it) Mr Warehouse and I headed off to Bedford Town Centre for something I had wanted to do for ages ... Bottomless Brunch. As the Slug and Lettuce website confirms, "brunch is one of the most important meals of the day" and paired with bottomless bubbles the experience all the more better. Lasting two hours, on arrival Mr Warehouse and I joined our old work colleagues Miss Hackney & Miss Sugarcoat dined from a simple brunch menu choosing Eggs Benedict of course, however the less than attentive team were slow and it wasn't lng before we were ordering two-at-a-time-mimosa's. 

But I couldnt get so shit-faced, I had to go dinner with my Dad and his wife, now of over a year would you believe it? A family run countryside English Inn, The Carrington Arms is situated in the picturesque village of Moulsoe, about a ten-minute journey by car from our home in Cranfield. I had been itching to visit the award winning restaurant for a while now but it was always fully booked during the whole "Eat Out to Help Out" thing in August and after mentioning it in passing my Dad had said he would book a table for my birthday. 

Ariving early I made Mr Warehouse take some pictures of me in my denim jumpsuit finery amoungst the Insta-worthy grounds, all before meeting our dinner guests and walking through into the bar, adorned with a huge selection of gin bottles, towering up the walls as well as draught beers, lagers, real ales and an extensive, handpicked wine list. Sitting down we chatted about my Dad and wife's recent holiday to Northern England including Durham and York, somewhere me and Mr Warehouse would love to travel to again. 

Starting with a Mango and Passionfruit gin I followed it with my favorite starter - Deli Carpaccio of Seared Bedfordshire Beef Fillet, Charred Cucumber, Filo Brick Pastry, Smoked Mustard Mayonnaise, Dill, Pink Pepper & Shaved Pecorino. Following that, my main had to continue the same caliber and since the restaraunt served locally raised Bedfordshire Beef (sold by the gram I might add) I just had to try some, although I was disappointed to discover that in "normal times" pre-Corona you could ahve gone and selected your own steak and watched it being cut and cooked on our charcoal grill. Washed down with plenty of good wine I was far too full from brunch and bubbles plus dinner to even entertain a dessert and so I have just booked to return soon and certainly so for our traditional Christmas eve meal out. 

A few drinks with some of Mr Warehouse's family to see one of the younger ones off to Uni in Liverpool ensued followed by our heads hitting the pillows and falling fast asleep. Most Sunday's are now spent lazing in bed watching Youtube before Mr Warehouse heads out to watch his (or really should be our) Nephew play football and this weekend was no different, I found myself chilling around the house and watching yet more documentaries on Dennis Neilson (self-consuming myself since the incredibly spooky and true-to-likeness docuseries on ITV called "Des" played by David Tennant - Uhh just fascinating you must watch it if you havent already), before heading over to see Brother and Sister-in-law, kids and the most adorable little puppy called Lola ever! 

Wrapping up the weekend in style, Mr Warehouse and I headed to French Affaire, a French inspired restaurant buried in the heart of quaint Stony Stratford near Milton Keynes. Meeting my Scottish side of the family it was nice to finally come full-circle and feel a little better about having my first birthday without my Scotch Nanna. Stepping into the beautiful restaurant I was swept away by the exquisite and elegant interior, including sparkling chandelier, living moss wall and plush furnishings, not to mention a sunny terrace area complete with flowers in full bloom. And unlike The Blossom Room in Milton Keynes Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tried during August's "Eat Out to Help Out" thing, French Affaire's clean & simple cooking was full of flavour and you could tell that many of the ingredients were from local suppliers. Opting for something healthy (probably the first drink I had since Thursday that wasn't alcoholic) I chose a smoothie of blended carrot, goji berries, banana, mango and some other shit to add up to my five-a-day. Our late lunch was compromised of smashed avacado on Sourdough toast with poached eggs and chilli followed by the best Crepe I think I have had outside of France itself - Baileys, Oreo crumbles and White Chocolate sauce. Uh heavenly!

And so the rollercoaster continues into my finaly year of my twenties as some weeks I am good and others, like last week, I just want to tell Corona to do one. COVID-19 really has fucked everything, however unlike last week where I thought I had to kiss goodbye to dreamy Greek islands or lush Italian breaks; This week I am looking forward to the most incredble present I think anyone could get on their birthday - A FUCKING HOLIDAY!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Fast and Furious of Adulting

Evening All, 

Following last week's final adventures in my little Vivienne, she is awaiting her final journey to Car heaven as is still on my driveway. The 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta, with her five-door hatchback body and a 1.4L engine she certainly was everything I had ever hoped for in my first car. Viv's multi-functional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors I was please that I had experienced my first real taste of the open road in her. But alas all good things must come to an end and this week and I will hopefully be welcoming in a new car to my driveway, other than the swanky black Vauxhall Corsa I have had the pleasure of driving for the last few days. 

After a heavy night of drinking, dancing and laughing with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat, I was not sure I could even look at a car, let alone drive one. But nevertheless, taking time out on Saturday to have a race day with my fiance, Mr Warehouse, at the Bruntingthorpe track in the Harborough district of Leicestershire was certainly one way to get over a fragile head. The best way though, Im not so sure!? A Christmas present from last year from Mr. Warehouse, he had certainly been listening to me when I was banging on about driving a fast car round a race-track. And so I drove the hired Vauxhall Corsa through the country lanes and even avoided a few horses on the road not to mention the sheep crossing too. 

I had a fantastic day driving a Mazda MX5 race car. Complete with full roll cage, race suspension and mechanical backup, this was the perfect car for Bruntingthorpe Airbase circuit and has left me wanting more. And so I booked the Bae and me to experience a Ariel Atom Passenger ride where Mr. Warehouse and I hit the tarmac for a supercharged Ariel Atom. The Atom houses a Jacskson Racing Supercharged Honda i-VTEC engine. Stripped to it's bare essentials, a chassis, wheels, engine, gearbox and suspension gives the Atom a better power to weight ratio than the mighty Bugati Veyron. Experiencing one of the quickest cars with a 0.60 in less than 3 seconds was exciting and a great day out and was sure to get our adrenaline pumping. 

And after waiting patiently for the last few days I finally had the call I was expecting from the insurance company. Answering all the relevant security questions I prepared myself for the inevitable conversation of being paid barely enough to pay of my finance deal, let alone buy another car. 

"Sorry can I just get you to clarify that again for me?" I asked, desperately trying to process exactly what the call handler has just told me. 
"Yes certainly madam. So the car's total value is £8,500.00 give or take. Now obviously we have the insurance excess and a few admin charge that we need to take off before we pay the finance company. Although once the insurance company has paid off the finance deal and taken the relevant fees we will be transferring the remainder £4,200.00 over to yourself. Is this OK?" the call handler explained. I was shocked to say the least! Considering I had already bought and financed the car at quite a high rate of interest I was not expecting a single penny back to me at all. As long as the finance deal was settled in full be it partly an insurance pay-out and partly my asset protection insurance to cover the rest, I considered walking away from the situation washing my hands and starting afresh. 
"Hello? Miss? Are you there?" the friendly young gentleman said on the other line. Confirming some further details the the call ended and I expected to receive a email or phone call shortly after explaining that there had been a mistake in the finance settlement. 

However, less than a few hours later I received an email confirming exactly what I was told over the phone and that I should be expecting payment within the next forty-eight hours. Still in shock, I thought of didn't really believe it until I saw my bank account the next day which read a full four digits on my screen. Excited I started looking for my new car right away, all in the knowledge that I could receive a phone call any second telling me that I would need to hand my hire car back. This would probably have not been such a big deal had I been living in Bedford town center as before, however as I am now a country bumpkin living out in the sticks of Cranfield I have no choice but to need a car. Although I was certainly not going to be making the same mistake as I did last week when I eagerly called the insurance company so I could get the ball rolling following a message from the estimator's garage. 

Mostly over the last few days I have been spent looking online at car dealerships websites for any car that tickles my fancy. Obviously I am not looking for much in my next car however I would like some specifications I have since become accustomed to. Firstly on my shopping list is the price as I would like to keep it under the same value that I am already paying on a monthly basis. Secondly, I need the car to be at least a 1.4 engine as anything smaller would be taking a back step from my previous vehicle. Ideally I would like the car to be newer with less mileage on the clock. If I can continue with a petrol engine then that would be fantastic but it must be a manual, only for the fear that if I was to get an automatic with my lazy brain I would forget how to drive stick. Mod-Cons that I would be looking for may include a heated windscreen to save time in the wintery months, a  heated steering wheel for exactly the same reason and even a touch screen navigation system. 

However that being said, I think I may have already met my new car. Scrolling online I found a cute little Fiat 500L in red. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needs to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and even have a whizz around town but with just over thirty-thousand miles on it 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal. 

Now I know what your thinking, walking away from this unscathed and essentially up n an investment, why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is and always has been a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new not just the first time buying a car but also the second time too. With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and it's almighty diesel engine I am certainly looking forward to receiving my new car and hopefully having this one for good!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Difficult Roads Often Lead To Beautiful Destinations

Suup, 

I never thought that I would have festival blues like I did at Reading Festival back in 2014, oh boy do I have a big come down from the glitter and frolics of a festival atmosphere. Truth be told I didn't think that I would have enjoyed myself or looked forward to the Bedford River Festival as much as I did. Maybe it was the drib's and drabs of family and friends throughout the weekends festivities that made it as good as it was, or maybe it was just simply down to the fact that I felt much better than I have done in the last few months. I suppose that the reality is that next time the Bedford River Festival comes around we will be living in our new home and who knows what life might be like then. although I am sure that there will still be a place for some glitter and denim shorts to enjoy the drumming music, incredible smelling food and host of activities and things to do and see. 

With the last few months being a bit of a whirlwind in terms of emotions and life events, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I would book a few days off at the end of the month after payday in order to have a little bit of me time for rest and recuperation. Suggested by several of my friends including Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat who I have met up with a few times over the last couple of weeks, I think a few days to relax and take time for myself will be beneficial and can only do me some good. I have a few things planned such as some nice lye-in's and watching telly. On Wednesday I will be getting my hair done which maybe doesn't seem like such a big deal but for me a relaxing afternoon in the hairdressers chair is just what I need. Maybe afterwards I might take a trip over to one of the retail outlets a few miles out of town in order for some retail therapy and a treat or two.

Thursday's plans will consist of going to my usual counselling sessions and therapy, however this week will be the first of the NHS Treatments. In the afternoon I also have a doctor's appointment in order to discuss my ongoing medication and going forward with my diagnosis. Whilst the medicine I am on has finally stopped making me feel queasy and nauseous, I haven't stopped taking them as I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, regardless of how I feel much better and more back to normal. I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will get better it will just maybe take a little bit longer. 

Friday is what I am really looking forward to as I will be accompanying Mr Warehouse to a spa in London. Courtesy in part to Nanny Pumpkin's Christmas present to Mr Warehouse and I we will be enjoying a gorgeous fruit platter as well as some relaxing treatments. I think just simply having some time just for us will be nice as I think life just takes over and before you know it it has been weeks since you have spent time with each other. 

I know after spending Sunday afternoon in the sunshine with two of my favourite people, Nanny Pumpkin and Mr Warehouse, I realise the heartbreaking reality that whilst my Grandma is doing her own thing and thoroughly enjoying life skipping off here, there and everywhere, I know in reality by the amount of times my grandfather was mentioned that she does miss him. Listening to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat their own grandparents and how their lives have been affected since one of them had passed away made me want to spend time, and quality time at that with Mr Warehouse whilst we have the chance to do so before mortgages and family life takes over. 

This is a happy time where we should be excited about finally getting a home of our own and looking forward to putting our own stamp on the place, although I think Mr Warehouse would agree with me when we both say that life has not been the easiest for us at the moment. It has been a poisonous melting pot of complicated issues including my mental health, Mr. Warehouse's skin condition and his own health worries all mixed together with a good helping of work issues and family problems, sprinkled with the stress of buying a house and preparing to move home. When the Devil on my shoulder tells me that it is going to be very expensive and makes me question as to whether Mr Warehouse and I can afford it, I must remember all of the other times that I thought or wondered how I would ever afford what I wanted in life. I am sure that I will look back a year from now and wonder as to what exactly I spent my money on. 

It terrifies me to think that I will have to depend on someone else both financially and in the general upkeep and running of the house in Mr Warehouse. To say that things have been tense or highly strung has been a understatement and I would say Mr Warehouse and I have argued more than we have ever in the last few months than we ever have in the last three and a half years we have been dating. But for all the snippy comments or playful bickering that happens between us I cannot fault Mr Warehouse for his support and love over the last few months, holding me up high when I was down in my lowest points and making me feel so loved and wanted it's unreal. I don't think that there is literally anything that his arms couldn't cuddle away and I know that whatever life throws at us I will be able to deal with it just as long as I have him by my side, wiping away the tears and making things better for as long as we have ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Missing Minutes!

Heyy, 

After what felt like the longest week for quite some time (and to be fair it was since I had taken a day off making the last few weeks a four-day week) I was more than happy that it was a bank holiday weekend and with an extra day to spend trying to do up our small flat. Last weekend I spoke of finishing work early on Friday and went to collect some house things before heading to Basingstoke for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Wedding. Following a long search for a property on budget as well as allowing dog's, Mr Warehouse and I had looked and viewed a few properties in the last few months that ticked all of the boxes. The only problem that we seem to come up against was the fact that the majority of these properties were very run down or poorly kept meaning we would have to put in a lot of work to a home that was not ours, something that at the end of the day we could quite easily do in the place that we have here. So we thought why not!? OK so our flat is small in comparison to the two-bedroom house with Garden and parking I wanted but I would say that our flat is still on the large side. And so after having several meltdowns over the last few weeks about where Mr Warehouse and I live, a combination brought about by the safety and security of the property (or the lack thereof), not to mention what seems like a complete lack of empathy or activity at all from the landlord. 

But before any painting wallpapering or decorating could get underway I had been booked in for a night out with some old work pal's, you remember them - Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat. The night started well as the three of us had planned to go for a cheeky Nando's with our other halves before heading into the infamous Bedford town centre for a good old fashioned knees up. I would never have thought that the night would have ended in as tragically as it did. With Nando's fully booked and with a queue out the door Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and I thought that it might be a good idea to go to another restaurant a couple of doors down. A Turkish restaurant called Nazar was somewhere that we had presented before and to be fair had quite nice food. As we sat down and ordered drinks I thought about how this was the first time Mr Warehouse and I had been out for a meal in quite some time after trying to save for a house. Nevertheless the company was enjoyable to say the least with Miss Hackney, Miss Sugarcoat and a friend of Miss Sugarcoat's in place of her girlfriend. Miss Hackney had recently split from her most recent fuck-boy and Miss Sugarcoat and I were hoping that her friend might provide Miss Hackney some "comfort". 

With our meal taking slightly longer than anticipated due to the fact they forgot about Mr Warehouse's order, we headed to one of the many bars along Bedford main High Street for a drink with Mr Warehouse before he departed to go home. Unfortunately my dearest boyfriend was working from 6am the following morning so was probably best if he didn't have a late one. After a couple of cider's outside in the newly refurbished beer garden of the pub he left us to our night. And I can only assume that it was from this point onwards that it all went downhill. With Miss Sugarcoat buying us or a round of Jagerbombs I struggled to keep it down. Luckily I had a Chaser drink of the half bottle of wine that Miss Hackney and I were sharing. And that continues throughout the night, nothing more, nothing less just wine and I think maybe the odd glass of Prosecco. Unlike normal I was certainly not drinking any shots spirits or even cocktails. Just Wine. How I was so wasted on such a small amount I will never know. I remember everything up until the point of which I left the club. I remember everything from the previous two bars and pubs we had been into and even remember having to pay to get into the club and being in there. I clearly remember at one point and for some unknown reason that I still don't quite understand I just thought I want or need to go home and with that picked up my bag and left not even saying goodbye to Miss Hackney or Miss Sugarcoat. 

I remember walking through the fellow clubbers. I remember vaguely walking down the stairs and seemingly out of the venue. I do not remember how but some way I ended up at the taxi rank, across the road and down the road a bit on the corner. Hazily I remember standing and waiting for a cab outside the rank. I think I remember getting in a cab and sitting in the back passenger seat. After that I don't remember anything at all even to this moment now. Normally, as most of you know who read along regularly and from some of my earlier party animal days, that I remember everything from a night out. Every gorey detail. Every alcoholic drink. Every dude that I used to get hit on or hit up on. Every. Little. Thing. 

Its not clear but I faintly remember feeling sick and knowing if I threw up in the cab that it would cost me dearly with a fine for the clean-up, and so weighing up the options in my drunken stupor I thought that being violently sick in my Ted Baker clutch would be the best option. Unfortunately I failed to take into account that my Vape, my power bank and cables not to mention a lipstick and other items were also being housed in the safety of my designer handbag. And with the decision being made in my head I made my choice to be sick inside the one vessel that would not charge me £50 for a clean up fee AKA my Ted Baker clutch.

The only saying that is fully clear in my head is that I woke up at about 11:30am when I heard Mr Warehouse calling my name. I think at first I was woken up by his motorcycle coming back home from his shift although that may well have been a dream. He was so angry and immediately started flying off the handle about how drunk I was and what estate I came home. Apparently Mr Warehouse had been trying to call me all morning, ringing more than sixteen times. I think in all fairness he was probably angry out of the fear for when he left for work (with only two-hours sleep) he was terrified of that we would come home to meet dead after choking on my own vomit. Luckily that was not the case however I felt awful for making him so angry. To be fair I don't think I have ever seen him so angry with me. I was devastated and yet confused by the fact that I found myself naked and in my bed but did not look or how I got home. 

Even to this moment a trying to terrifies me that I do not know exactly how I got back into my bed that night. All I can be thankful for is Mr Warehouse living with me as I am not sure what state or even if I would have gotten home safely. From the account that my wonderful boyfriend has given, I stumbled through the door at about 2am and made probably as much racket as I possibly could. By this point I had apparently already thrown up outside on the steps leading up to our flat as well as all down our French patio doors as well as the handle. I had as usual come in and gone straight to the bathroom sat on the toilet and throwing up all over myself in a last ditch attempt to aim for the bath. I can only assume that it was at this point that Mr Warehouse was roused from his slumber by my sickening wretches and came to save me, undressing me and putting me to bed safely. 

Whilst there has been some serious cleaning and even a moving round of some furniture in order to accommodate hopefully under open plan living situation in our front room, there has been very little if any decorating at all done. I can assure you though that I have most definitely learnt my lesson. I have thought about the missing minutes and hours potentially I have had over this weekend and would even consider the possibility that I may well have been spiked. I suppose that there is always the possibility. Not entirely sure as to why someone would want to spike my drink in particular or maybe they thought that it was Miss Hackney's. Either way something was telling me to just go home and maybe this was my subconscious kicking into action and overhauling my drunken mind. Whatever happened I am most certainly going to be more careful when I am out drinking next time, should there even be a next time since I am still in the dog house! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Greener Grass and Flecks of Gold

Evening All, 

Only a week after payday I really wondered how I was so poor. I did not have to look far though as my bank balance for our new house fund was slowly growing. Soon I hoped that I would see that little comma appear proving that I was doing the right thing by saving all my pennies but I never knew how stressful and broke it would make me feel knowing I have money but it is tied up and away. Now don't get me wrong I knew that this would not be an easy journey, saving every scrap of money that both me and Mr Warehouse have between us was certainly going to be a struggle especially when I am giving up on my summer holiday this year with Mr. Warehouse, something that makes me deeply sad and frustrated for this was going to be the year that we were going to have a blowout holiday were by the head off somewhere hot by the beach relaxing for a week or two. 

Anyway enough with the same old same old, and back to the good old good old. That's right, after far far too long apart, me, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat along with her latest Beau met in a local eatery for some Mexican food and what I hoped would be a change to the normal schedule of shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots! It had been a long time since I saw them and it felt like I was going back to something familiar. I enjoy their company separately with Miss Hackney's laughter and down to earth approach mixed in with some gritty tales of the dating game (some more horrific and hilarious than mine I might add) and Miss Sugarcoat's intellectual conversation and ideas on life along with the added spice of strong controversial opinions (some of which I back entirely and some I try to hide from and pretend she is not with me), yet together we seem to create so much noise that it is sometimes hard to hear myself think. 

Harping back to the good old times in which we used to fart around in the office not doing much work or course, we reminisced well into the evening and chatted about life as we know it now with our new relationships, friendships and jobs. I had so much to tell them as they had for me although I felt that we were all talking over each other and that the noisy restaurant did not help. Both Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat seemed to have developed and carved out good careers for themselves, expanding on their talents and skills in order to obtain well paying jobs. This left me slightly questioning if I ever made the right decision moving, even though I knew in my heart that's a good decision was made. OK so I am not earning £35,000 working for a plumbing and heating company and I am also not spending my evenings and weekends attending events that I am hosting in aid of cosmetic beauty. Am I happy I jumped ship? Yes certainly and with everything that has happened in the last year and a half I think I have a fairly good deal where I am at the moment especially given the pay, ever-growing relationships both in and outside of the office as well as the fact that I now have a similar relationship with my engineers as I had before with my old ones. 

As the shots kept coming I knew that my hopes of a quiet and sophisticated chat over dinner would not be the case this evening. Maybe another night I thought. Maybe a quiet evening in with a bottle or two and a comfy sofa to put the world to rights would be just what we all needed to calm down a bit for the atmosphere of a busy restaurant on a Friday night and then a loud pub with DJ were probably not the ideal places to share stories from the last eighteen months or so since I left. This was not to say that I was not enjoying myself knocking back shots of tequila whilst sipping on Prosecco, trying to keep an ounce of classy about the evening of course. As we rambled through the evening, drinking more and chatting less I was enjoying myself but in a different kind of way that I was used to and an alternative way I would if I was with my current work colleagues. 

I suppose in the grand old scheme of things that this is the big difference between my old workplace and where I work now. The majority of the time that I spent with my old work colleagues was getting drunk and talking about shite. That is not to say that given a problem or issue I was experiencing I could not talk to my old work colleagues and looking back on my time there I got some brilliant advice from some amazing people who I would like to consider even now as friends despite not talking in quite some time. A night out on the tiles now consists of going round to someone else to pre-drinking in a sophisticated fashion all whilst helping each other to get dressed and gossipping as women do, then heading into town for a nice meal and some cocktails afterwards. And whilst I don't feel like I have achieved that level of conversation with anyone of my current work colleagues at this moment in time, that is not to say that if something was bugging me or I needed to talk to someone that I would have no one to talk openly to as I am sure that there would be plenty of people to offer a sympathetic ear - I hope at least. 

Nevertheless my Friday evening spent with my old work colleagues or certainly a laugh and certainly something that we will make sure not to leave so long again. Isn't it funny I thought to myself and as I later tried to explain to Man-Brain Mr. Warehouse - You spend a good majority of your life working and those people you work with, if you are close, know everything about you and your life as you do about them and theirs. From Monday to Friday, Nine 'til Five you spill your guts about how your feeling and what happened at home or over the weekend. The kids, the other-half, the house, the in-laws and everything and everyone in between. You get to know their social networks and circles without ever actually meeting them and are able to provide comfort and warmth in a time of need. They know your relationships better than maybe you do yourself and can even offer advise that could change everything. With the staples and cellotape and paperclips galore they help you as much as you help them in times of joy, sorrow, support and laughter, colleagues like mine at my old job were like literal tiny flecks of gold dust, blowing into your life five-days-a-week. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Cluck! Cluck!

Evening, 

Racing home from work I hurried to get ready. This was something I couldn't be late for. One of my new work colleagues (or not so new because lets be honest I have been working there for like six-months) is getting married in a matter of weeks and as an absolute surprise all the ladies in the office have got together to give her a right good old send off. I'm glad for it in all honesty since there was a time not so long ago that I felt a little left out on plans everyone made in the office. 

The Plan? Nice sit down meal with great food and then on for some cocktails after that. I have come to discover that this is somewhat a standard night out with my "new" work friends. Its definitely more sophisticated to what I was usually used to back when I used to work with Miss Hackney, Mr. CWG, Mr. Warehouse and Co. Usually we would start in The Rose, a Pub/Bar on the main High Street and then progress two-doors up to something not a lot classier. Same sticky floors I remembered in college gives me the comfort I need when the balls of your feet are stinging from the skyscrapers you decided were a good idea several hours ago. All of this would be topped off with some heavy flirting (And even some petting from others I as out with), dancing until the lights come on (Or we were kicked out) and a Subway for the short walk home. Oh how I missed those nights where I could pretend to be in my late teens again without a care in the world and with some f the best people on the planet I know. 

All of that seemed a world away as we sat down to our meal, Bride-to-Be surprised to the point of tears when she walked in to find us awaiting her. After the meal was finished we headed to the Cocktail Bar, loosing few faces along the way. The Auction Room is honest to god a slice of London's Soho brought to Bedford - Including the 'effing price too. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the sophisticated atmosphere and how grown up everyone is, but a little part of me knows that I will never have to sneak off for a tactical chunder whilst in there. Most of what cocktails are made of is good for you anyway right? Juices, fruit puree and fresh berries on top ... surely that has to count as one of your five-a-day?

Following an incident with some gentleman (if you can even call them that) the Hen Party and I decided to leave the pricey cocktail house. It would have appeared that when younger, sillier boys who are still in the WDK phases of nights out on the lash find a Hen Party they just can't help themselves. Tugging on our hair and yanking our sashes back that we were wearing with pride, these Dicks had no respect for women or for their last night (Or fort-night in this instance). It started I am sure, in a playful manner, not meant t annoy or offend. But it escalated quickly. After the fat chick (yes that's me I'm describing) tried to dance and flirt with them I thought it would put them off, all the other lads laughing 'cas chunky wanted a bit of the hot, young 'D'. Obviously not (Although in my head I am thinking "YES! Still got it!" when it was quite clear I never truly 'had it' in the first place)! I then tried protecting the Bride-to-Be and our Hen's with some serious awkward dancing. Nope - Still not working! And then, just as the rough play had gotten too much I decided to pull one of my last cards out of the bag ... The small willy Gag. Symbolizing the international sign for small wiener everywhere, I donned my pinkie-finger and began to action it towards what appeared to be the ring leader, again in attempt to ward off and embarrass him and his friends enough to piss off and stop harassing us like flies to shit. I wasn't to worry though for no sooner than the shocked faces and gaffaued laughter had exploded from the girls I was with it all broke down again, nearly ending with the Bride-to-Be in a punch-up of her own!

Heading for somewhere more reasonably priced it was the George & Dragon next which I kept referring to as D&G - Of which it was far from. Moments after stepping inside though I was faced with a dilemma that was all too familiar to me. After a tap on my shoulder I turned around, only to be greeted by Miss Hackney herself, along with  Miss Sugarcoat and a couple of other friends of theirs. I looked over to the bar and saw my new work colleagues, beckoning me over with the tempting liquor of a Screwdriver - A staple of my night out! Again I was face with the decision of staying with friends and good company (Not that the Hen Party was not of course) or stay loyal to my new work buddies and bid Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat a farewell. 

OK making it way more emotional that it sounds right now, but at the time I had a lot to drink and I was certainly feeling it enough to make a few hastily typed messages to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat asking them where they had disappeared to and if it was even all real? Was it an epiphany that I had seen them whilst blind drunk on a Hen Do?! No it turned out it was real, just they had moved on to the next sticky-floored venue in town. Suffice to say that my Friday night was eventful and I am glad to say that I am happy to be a part of a group that enjoys a messy night out, even if it starts in a slightly classier way. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Buy Less, Choose Well, Make It Last: A Quote From Vivienne Westwood

Hellooo, 

Last week, along with announcing that I had a new job to go to, which I will be starting this time next week (Eek!) but also that I had taken my driving test for the second time. Driving up to the test centre I was nervous about the 'Show Me Tell Me' questions as I had not practised them much on the run up as I had before, but other than that I felt very confident about taking my test again. 

Sitting in the waiting area again I was anxious to get going. Seeing my previous driving examiner readying another candidate I was saddened that my learning-to-drive journey would not end with being passed by the same examiner that failed me first time around. Nevertheless I awaited my name to be called and introduced myself when the time came. An elderly gentleman with a large mole or birth mark on his face I was ready to show him what I was made of and hopefully impress him enough to give me that coveted pink drivers licence was so desperate to have. Sitting in the car, ready to go I was determined this would be the last time I have to do this. I needed to pass. Failure was honestly not an option. Halloween was merely a few weeks away and the stingy part of me did not want to shell out in cab fares back and fourth from Bedford to Mr. Warehouse's Cousin's party in nearby Stewartby.

Heading out of the test centre we took a route unfamiliar to myself, but I carried through and before I knew it my time was almost up. Pulling up on a residential road I had already managed some tricky junctions, manoeuvres and traffic situations. Now it was time for my independent driving; A full ten-minutes of silence from everyone in the car whilst I adhered to the already pre-instructed route back to the test centre. Again I was asked to take the route that had failed me last time. Taking it away I put the motions into place and headed out towards the A421 taking directions for Cambridge and the north. Although coming up to a roundabout I was approaching with caution due to an Audi driver not signalling off. As a result I had not noticed I had been driving in the chevron area for some time and it was only now, as I mounted the curb on the island approaching the roundabout that I realised my faults. 

Managing my way around the junction and out onto the cross roads that stung me last time I was sure not to make the same mistake twice, coming up to the junction to stop, look and then ace pulling out into the steadily moving traffic. Heading back to the test centre now I was confident it had been a great drive, maybe one of my best but the fact that I had mounted the curb had thrown me slightly. "If I have failed at that point again I will be really upset and angry with myself. Twelve minutes that's all it is. Twelve minutes from home at the test centre!" I said internally as I exited the slip road and headed towards Cardington. Driving up the winding lanes I was hoping for success and as I pulled my faithful Beema into the parking space I held my breath slightly in anticipation of the news. 

"So I am pleased to tell you that you have passed your driving test" said the examiner, a smiling yet concerned look on his wrinkled face. 
"You mounted the curb back there and in all fairness whilst it was some good driving, most of the five minors you have encountered are for steering or steering related" he continued as my mind drifted off to thoughts of buying a car and what I would tell friends, family and co-workers. 
"You need to make sure you pay more attention and maybe consider taking lessons to counteract your steering issues I have highlighted" my examiner said as I beamed with excitement. Bidding farewell I exited the BMW and shaking, sat in the passengers seat as my instructor took to the wheel to drive me to work. 

The journey back to work was a quick one, passing in a blur of advice and practical knowledge from my instructor whom six-months earlier was just a stranger. Pulling into the car park I was slightly late arriving at just gone ten-in-the-morning. Seeing Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat having a cheeky mid-morning cigarette I saw them trying to read my face as I got out of the car. Thanking my instructor I collected my bag and coat, shaking with my certificate I walked over to where my work colleagues were standing. Shaking my head I heard the sympathies of failing again. That was until I pulled out my pass certificate yelling "Look what I found!?"

Screams and jeers followed in the wake of my announcement, other colleagues peering out of windows and asking if I had passed. Holding up my certificate like a scene from Lion King ("Ha-Min-Yah" and all that malarkey) I was proud as punch. Is this what becoming a parent feels like? Maybe? Who knows? Who cares? I mounted the curb during my driving test and somehow still passed?! I was buzzing. I think I spent most of the rest of the day being congratulated and asked about my test and how it all went. A part of me really started to question why I was leaving when this felt so much like home and family. 

Nevertheless the week continued to drag and as the end of the week was in sight I started to scout out some cars at local reputable dealerships. Taking public transport to a dealership on Saturday I had my heart set on a little orange Ford Fiesta. It is an eleven-plate, five-door hatchback with a 1.4 engine and with its high specification including a multifunctional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors it was certainly a thing of beauty. Small enough for little old me and big enough for the Doggy and other half during road-trips I was certainly excited to test drive the autumnal-coloured runabout and even more anxious to hear about what packaged I could choose from. 

I will be financing the car, and whilst I did consider a brand spanking new motor, the fact that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt was a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new. With one previous owner, no noticeable damage or scratches to her paintwork and a clean interior she was perfect. Yes my car is a she and because it is a female, my little tangerine-coloured car will be called Vivienne, after the flame-haired fashionista that is Vivienne Westwood. I think it fits and I have since found out from Mr. CWG that in actual fact the Ford Fiesta does not come as standard with that colouring and the previous owner must have paid a good deal of money for a paint job as good as what my Viv got. A special one of a kind you might say. Unique - Just like her owner! I am certainly eagar to collect her as soon as possible and it was due to be tonight after I finished work, but with the financial approver being off sick yesterday and today, it is looking like the earliest date Vivienne can come home will be Thursday at earliest. Between now and then I need to barter for a good insurance deal, buy my annual road tax and pick up some screen wash and other car bits to make her look and smell as pretty as a peach in summer.

Phhew! Some serious Adulting has been done recently; New Job, Newly aquired driving liecence and a successful application for car finance. Hopefully next week I can let you know how Vivienne is settling into her new home and how we get along as newly associated BFF's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx