My Least Favourite C-Word

Evening, 

The lapping ocean shores and lazy days of Cornwall were long gone and now after a rocky few weeks of uncertainty and unease, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Entering our Twentieth week of lockdown in the UK the 100-day mark has well and truly been surpassed and seems like only a distant memory now. However, with shops now all reopened, pubs and restaurants flinging open their doors and schools gearing up to go back in September, figures from the BBC released today confirm that while the number of new cases of coronavirus is rising, government-announced deaths have continued to fall since a peak in mid-April. 

As explained before, the disease COVID-19 (CO = Corona + VI  = Virus + D19 = December 2019 = the month and year which was it was discovered), was first confirmed in the UK at the end of January 2020, however, the number of daily confirmed cases and related deaths only began to soar significantly by the second half of March and after lockdown restrictions came into force at the end of that month, numbers came to a peak mid-April, falling steadily ever since. Though the downward trend has slowed recently today  (Monday 03 August 2020) only nine deaths were reported in the last 24 hour period, however, reported figures on Sundays and Mondays are often lower than the those for rest of the week as there is a delay in deaths being reported over the weekends. 

the BBC details that the "UK currently has a number of local 'hotspots' of cases, many in the north of England, and specific restrictions have been imposed on these areas. Millions of people in Greater Manchester, East Lancashire and parts of West Yorkshire are banned from meeting separate households in private homes or gardens." In a statement released recently, Public Health England is now producing a "coronavirus watchlist of areas, based on an assessment of incidence rates, and other indicators such as trends in testing, local responses and plans, healthcare activity and mortality." Bedford, Luton, Northampton and Peterborough (near where Momma Warehouse lives with her boyfriend) are all classed at the moment as 'areas of concern' and should be monitored closely to make sure there are no spikes in cases or deaths and with places such as Leicestershire and Manchester being areas of grave concern, UK Government has introduced strict conditions and a local lockdown to control the virus. 

Now whilst deaths may be falling allowing people to frolic off on summer holidays and off out on most of their pre-COVID activities, the confirmed cases continue to rise as more and more people are being tested and with this comes concerns around a second wave. The likelihood of this happening and a second lockdown in the space of a year happening isn't impossible but with Boris' new announcement released at the beginning of July which finally included some information on weddings and that small wedding reception starting to take place from 1st August, we are barely three-days in and it has been revoked due to the climate, something I feel better about knowing I don't have to worry about my imminent Autumn wedding. 

For us, the decision to postpone was not an easy one. Crunching the numbers and having to contend with no singing in the church, no father walking his daughter down the awkward aisle of about twenty odd chairs sat socially distanced and no choir (namely in our circumstances due to age and health issues which would consider them in a COVID-vulnerable category, not to mention being unable to learn 2 new songs by the time our day rolled around). And it was on that sunny Sunday in our local pub beer garden that we took the decision to postpone our bid day to Saturday 12th June 2021! 

I think I am certainly more relaxed about it now all the re-invites have gone out and I can start to chill out since I have another additional ten-months to plan more stuff. And by god am I having more STUFF! Back a few months Mr Warehouse and I spoke about a photobooth or some entertainment for guests that was different and to be talked about for years to come. Unique and quirky - Just like us. But the answer was always the same; "If we have a spare couple of hundred quid then yeah we'll book it but not until closer to the time". But now we have time and time earns money so fingers crossed with another few months and maybe a good Christmas bonus coming we can book book book. Besides all this extra free time, I hope to be booking in a holiday or two - Coronavirus can suck it!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Little Puppers All Grown Up!

Heyy, 

Lounging on the sofa at Momma Warehouse's house that she shares with her boyfriend, it was like being a kid again and coming back home (I imagine haha). Coffee was made for you and barely mentioning the fact you liked the coffee percolator earned me one that they had hidden in the backroom somewhere. Roast dinner to follow with heaps of food and pudding to drown in. This was living the life right? 

And so as the conversation turned to wedding stuff, dresses, outfits and hen-do's, I happened to be constantly distracted by my little bundle of fluff. In less than a month Frankenstein would soon be a year old and as he rough-and-tumbled with his sister, a short-haired double of him and looking more like a Dachshund than a Jackapoo, I knew that getting him was one of the best things in life. 

I will never forget that Tuesday evening, as Mr. Warehouse and I had prepared ourselves for bed with our eldest Pooch as we normally did, turning off the telly, closing down the lights and going into lock down making sure all doors and windows were shut. It was about quarter to ten at night when the phone rang. I looked at Mr. Warehouse as I showed him the caller ID. It was his Mom, my future mother-in-law. Worried I answered and before she even had a chance to explain I promptly told her that this was about the time that people call in the night when someone has died. 

"Do you want to see some puppies?" she said simply and calmly like some sort of child molester. I mean, of course I did. Immediately hitting redial to facetime her. No sooner had she accepted the call I saw a bundle of fluffiness. A little white girl with patches of brown and black splodging her body, another smooth black and tan puppy and a third wirey black and tan fur baby. Instantly I start freaking out. 

"I am being serious" my future mother-in-law continued, stern "We're leaving in five minutes and were taking one of the girls so which one do you want?" 

Suddenly everything seemed real and I focused my twilight mind from puppies and cute faces on a screen. Like a child to her parents, I turned to my beloved fiance and pleaded with him to let me get one. After a few pushes, he seemed to give in reluctantly knowing I would probably do whatever I would want regardless of what he had to say. After further talks, we discovered that it was a friend of a friend who used to breed toy poodles who gave it up to look after her sick husband at home who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia. Unfortunately one night back in early December the Husband had let the breeding stud in with the family pet, a Jack Russell terrier and she fell pregnant. several months later and around Valentine's day a surprise, or nine, were delivered. The lady herself knew nothing about it as she had been so busy with Christmas, New Year and looking after her husband and home she had neglected to notice her dog's belly growing. 


With the unexpected litter now twelve-weeks old they were already a month passed being legally allowed to leave their mother and so she took the decision to find them homes. One of the first questions I asked my future mother-in-law was how much. Bearing in mind that the Toy Poodle / Jack Russell mix would already be a popular choice for families as they are intelligent, active little things, small enough to be around kids and hypoallergenic so great for allergy sufferers. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The reason being is that not only was it a terrible accident because her poorly husband had not known that they no longer bred dogs, but also that as a result of this expenses had already been stretched by extra food and what not. The added vaccinations, chipping, insurance and everything else that normally comes with a new puppy would have financially not been possible for the poor lady and her husband and so she wanted to give them away to families that would love and care for them as she had, making sure they were their forever homes. 

Within a few days there I was, gazing out of the window at the setting sun. I had been waiting all day for this moment. Truth be told, I had been waiting for this moment for pretty much my whole life since being a toddler. Seeing the blue rickety old van pull into the street I came running down the stairs, the pit of my stomach flipping nervously as it filled with anxiety and anticipation at what was to come. 

"They're here! They're here!" I squeaked excitedly at Mr. Warehouse as he too peered out the window at the arriving vehicle. 

Opening the door I stood patiently at the front door with the rest of the family, like a mother ready to accept her newborn. Ushering me over to the van I peered in and saw the sweetest little bundle of tuft. Black and tan, with a white belly I scooped him up and took him into his new home. Welcome home our little Frankenstein - An homage to my love of all things spooky, Halloween and macabre. That but also the fact he was made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog. 

And since that moment we really have been through hell and back. My practise baby has well and truly tested my limits and pushed me to extremes I thought were not possible with a small tiny fluffy. From the early days, it wasn't easy. Mr Warehouse were on the back foot when it came to training after getting Frankenstein at twelve-weeks we had already lost a month of the most crucial period of a young dog's life. Sleepless nights ensued as my Fiance and I tackled the Satanic Separation Anxiety, from yips and howls to barks and cries. But it didn't just stop there as when we went to work we would be constantly worried for the text that would come through from the neighbours, politely asking if we were coming home soon as our little monster was kicking off. 

Nearly a year since he was born I can honestly say it is not for the ill-equipped or the faint-hearted. Puppy ownership is hard. Owning a dog is difficult, but one of the most rewarding things I think I have ever put my time and effort into and I don't know if I could be more in love with my little man if I tried!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Day Frankenstein Got His Stitches

Howdy Friends, 

And so the day had come. After a good few weeks of speculation and pondering over whether or not to get my baby castrated I had finally made the decisions and the day was here. As I bundled my little bundle of joy into the front passengers seat and sat my packed lunch on the floor next to him I looked into his deep black eyes as he wondered where the fuck I was taking him so early in the day. 

As we pulled off the drive way I couldn't help but think that our older pooch would be glad of the peace and quiet, a restful day for her no doubt. A thought crossed my mind as I drove out of the village that maybe my little fur-baby thought I was bringing him to work with me, another Momma and Pupper day out. No this was not the case I am afraid little one. We are off to the Vets to get you snipped. 

As I had queried before, ever since I knew I wanted a puppy I have always wanted a boy. I suppose as that is what most people revert back to with the whole "whose a good boy" thing, even with our female pooch. I had considered studding him out like some sort of doggo pimpess however on closer consideration I decided to protect his innocence and get him castrated. The surgical way of neutering a male meant that ultimately I would be preventing him from reproducing and since I had no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money on a cash-cow basis I thought it unfair to give him a taste and then to take it away from him, leaving him hungry for more with no real idea whether it ill be next month, next year or ever. 

Arriving at the Veterinary Practice in good time we needed a nit of a clean up operation in the car as there was a little pukey accident. Nevertheless we carried on and I attended his Pre-Op check over to confirm his vitals and that he was healthy to undergo the procedure. 
"Now dont expect any phone call before about 2pm, he probably will be sleepy until about then anyway from the anaesthesia" the Nurse said as I left my baby in her arms. 
Heading out the door of the clinic I rushed to work and made it there just in time. 

Worrying all morning I thought of the horror stories I had heard about it all going wrong and how my Aunties dog had nearly died as the Vet's didn't know he was allergic to anaesthetic. Just as I had thought what would happen if I lost my little Franker-doodles the phone rang. It was the Vets. It was also 11am - Much before the 2pm expected time of the call! Answering I must have sounded panicked as the lovely receptionist put my mind at easy and said he was out from theatre and that the surgery had been a success. After explaining how the rest of the day would go she hung up and I looked forward to being able to see my little floof later on, all in the knowledge that he was in the absolute best capable hands and being very well looked after with plenty of fuss and cuddles. 

Getting back to work it was less than twenty-minutes before I received another call. Again, I answered worried for what had happened in the mean time. 
"So everything is fine but .. " the receptionist began as she continued to tell me how much my pup hated being in the kennels. I explained (as if they didn't already know) that he has just woken up from major surgery where he is in a tiny cold cage and doesn't know anyone's faces that are coming to him. Of course he is going t be freaked out. The receptionist pushed further and asked if I could come and collect him as he just wasn't settling. After explaining that I worked over forty-minutes away in Bedford and that I couldn't collect him she pushed further and asked if there was any way I could collect him on my lunch break. Feeling like a cold-ass bitch I stated that I only have a half-hour lunch break and I could not make it to the practice and back in that time, nor that it would be practical as I would then have to drop him back home to be alone and by himself which simply wasn't fair. I explained that whilst I appreciated he was a bit noisy and needy and unsettled that I would try and leave work earlier but that it wasn't set in stone. 

Finishing at my normal time I hurried over to the Veterinary practice to pick up my little lump with no bumps. No sooner had I walked through the door and I heard him, crying in a back room somewhere. I wanted to just rush straight through, but I knew I couldn't. But if I thought that was annoying and grating I hadn't had the full force of the Franken-toad yet. Checking myself in I heard him silence as he listened for my voice. As soon as he had confirmed it was me there was no stopping the little fella. Howling and crying and barking and screaming and woofing and all the carrying on as if he was being murdered. 
"He is sooo cute ... " the nurses and the receptionist began. 
"But he has been doing this all day" they said with a slight grimace across their smiles. Embarrassed I hung my head and hoped no one else with all their well behaved pets would ask any questions. They did. And I had no choice but to own up. Yes that noisy little monster was mine. My Frankenstein. Bringing him out I think the staff were glad to see the back of me, and walking out I booked in our follow up Post-Op visit for a few days time. 

That evening we had a very sleepy puppy, and when he wasn't sleeping he was either staring off into space as he was so fucking high or bumbling around in a drunken like stooper. A bit of tea and an early night for him Mr Warehouse and I put our little Frankle-puff to bed and headed off ourselves. Since then he has been right as rain. Still fucking manic and non-stop, but I suppose that is what you get with a toy poodle cross jack russell. 

Even for Warehouse's surprise birthday party on Saturday I thought that he would have calmed down a bit but nope. Just chased his sister (Momma Warehouse bought his sister, a smooth coated version of him, almost Dachshund in appearance so they can still be in touch) round the garden and playing with the kids. I was able to steal away a moment for myself (after ushering Mr Warehouse out to the pub to watch footie and rushing around like a blue arse fly all morning trying to get everything ready) I stood by the back door, watching the pups play, in fact watching all our family and friends drink and chat, laughing away with each other. It was then that I realised that I was probably at the peak of happiness, at least since last year anyway. Oh what a difference a year makes - Engaged, Homeowner and has her own puppy. I mean all bar earning over £23k a year I have ticked off all my New Years Resolutions, well, that and slimming down to a size 14 as usual. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Swollen and Sun Burnt!

Ola, 

Hearing Mr Warehouse tinkering around in the background of the holiday apartment I knew it was still dark outside. It was the day we returned to the UK and as sad as we were after burning severely on Tuesday and hobbling round Gibraltar on our day excursion my Fiance and I was certainly going to be glad of our home comforts and a few friendly faces. 

Getting up and shuffling to the bathroom, face, legs and back stinging from the waves of hot and cold, I braced myself for my morning pee. That was up until that point relaxing. Until Mr Warehouse broke the morning silence with not a 'Good morning my sweetness' or 'Wakey Wakey my little Paella princess'. No, I was confronted by an awful shriek. 
"You probably shouldn't but you should look in the mirror" Mr Warehouse said, cautiously looking at my face. I was sun burnt I got it. I suppose he thought it would be funny for me to see my red Larry lobster face and how bad I had it, especially since Mr Warehouse's sunburn had come up in blisters and breaking skin around his ankles. 

But as I got up from my seat on the Spanish "throne" I was met by my own gasp of horror. My face was so swollen I could barely see out of my right eye. I tried to open it, try and try as I might it was swollen shut. My whole face had swelled to nearly three times what it normally was for a fat cow like me. Panicked I went to Mr Warehouse, now pottering in the kitchenette, packing things into the suitcase as and when he found them. 
Bursting into tears I crumbled into his arms as I thought about how I would get home. 
"They're not going to let me through passport control!" I wailed, Mr Warehouse consoling me with his big lovable embrace. "I look like Elephant man"

Pulling myself together and calming down I did what I could, took a pill (Paracetamol) and smothered myself in aftersun and Aloe Vera before packing my things up and sorting shit out. We left the apartment in good time to get to the bus stop, but with only a few moments to spare, parking our trip to the 'Farmacia' and I had to settle with a wet muslin cloth and sunglasses to hid my hideous appearance from the locals. 
"I'll be lynched like a beastly mountain leper" I whimpered to Mr Warehouse as we boarded the bus to the airport. 

Arriving at security it was a long line and very busy. Our flight wasn't until midday and already the airport looked rammed to the point of breaking with families, kids and adults with copious amounts of luggage, bags and cases. My face was throbbing and tight from being so inflamed so after getting through to the other side out first port of call was the Pharmacy or somewhere that would sell aftersun, Ibuprofen or anything containing any Aloe or Vera. Nadda. Two Pharmacies and both were before security. Suffering we boarded the plane, nearly an hour late. Landing nearly an hour and thirty minutes late into Luton all I wanted to do was go home. Catching a cab in rush hour over to my Grandparents house we avoided most of the school traffic and after a brief pop in to say hello we headed home, arriving just before dinner time and spending an hour or so with Momma Warehouse, thanking her once again for looking after our pups who we missed dearly before heading to bed, face still swollen. 

The following morning I woke to something much worse. I now could not see out of my right eye at all. My face, still swollen, was worse from my left eyebrow across my forehead and around my eye, all over my cheek and was even impeding my speech now. I was terrified. This was serious. Calling through to the village doctors was about as much help as propping my eye open with a razor blade. I called our emergency number in the UK, the NHS 111 service. NHS 111 can help if you have an urgent medical problem and you’re not sure what to do and is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. After my assessment I was, along with Mr Warehouse and his severely burnt legs and ankles, were told to report to the Accident and Emergency.  

After waiting for an hour we were seen by a Triage nurse who not only briefly assessed us and looked over our complaints with little empathy but then went on to berate us entirely, telling us off and scolding my Fiance and I for not wearing sunscreen, branding us almost stupid and idiotic, as if we didn't need telling. 
"You're both fair. Your should have been wearing sun cream" She laid into us. Yeah because spending several hours in A&E, wearing sunglasses the whole time and with a face the size of North Africa yeah really how I would choose to spend the morning following a holiday in the sunshine. Leaving in tears it was several more hours before we saw a doctor. I was seen first and after an assessment on my skin, facial swelling and eyesight I was sent away and told that the tightness and swell should subside in five-seven days! I return to work in three! Mr Warehouse was the same diagnosis and told to carry on taking a cocktail of Paracetamol, Ibuprofen and the odd Antihistamine to take down the swelling and carry on with the moisturising with Aloe Vera and aftersun. 

It has now been nearly a week since the sunburn and I would say I have nearly fully recovered and my face is still swollen and very much so in the morning when I first wake up, but is getting better, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Safe to say that might b our last holiday for a while ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Doggo Dreams

Hello All, 

Once again after a stressful and hectic week at work, I come home and relax my Friday night away only to be awoken on Saturday morning at 6.20am. Listening to my new addition cry and whine downstairs I knew there was only one thing for it. The puppy trauma through bedtime routines and trying to keep our little Frankenstein happy in his own company is still an almighty issue. I suppose naively I thought that our issue would be toilet training or yapping and barking, and whilst the latter is an issue, it is rarely present. Unless of course, you leave him alone for an eighth of a second. 

Mind you I have never had a puppy. I remember as a child begging and pleading my parents to buy me a puppy. In fact, I am pretty sure that I even settled for a dog as I got a little older but every year sure is to be sure there would be a canine companion at the top of my birthday and Christmas list. I longed for one so bad that eventually, my parents gave in. 

We called her Trixie and she was a chocolate Labrador. Looking back I am not entirely sure how old she was when we got her but I know that she was still a boisterous pup. I think I remember my parents telling me that she had come from a rescue home, although I am not certain on. All I know is that she stayed with us a while before we had to give her away. My brother was very small, still a baby himself really and I think that Trixie had taken it on herself to make him part of her pack. As a result whenever he would cry she would come running, although she very rarely left his side and always slept under his pinstriped blue and white baby bouncer. As time went by she grew to growl if anyone went near him and snarled if anyone even dared to pick him up, even if he was blind crying. 

One day as my baby brother began to whimper I went as any big sister to make sure he was OK. I must have only been about six or seven at the time but as I went to pick him out of the baby bouncer he was in to comfort him Trixie lost it and went to bite me, narrowly missing my face. She caught me though and in a bit of a fright more than anything I started to cry. There was blood where she had nicked my nose as she has snapped up at me and it was at that moment I think my parents took the executive decision that Trixie needed to be rehomed. This time we had been lucky but if any more blood had been drawn then she may have gotten a taste for it and then she would have no chance at her happily ever after home as she would have to be put down. That was the least of the families worry as what would have happened if she had turned on the baby and snapped at him next time. 

And so that was the end of my first encounter with owning my own dog, or at least a little. All throughout my late teens and twenties (so far at least) when I gradually gained more independence and got a serious boyfriend and a house I thought and even chatted with him about getting a pup to complete our little set-up. I mean I should have really seen he was no good for me when he told me he didn't really like doggo's and certainly didn't want one as a pet. 

After that relationship fell apart (not for the lack of dog ownership I must say) I moved on and after getting my own little bachelor pad in the centre of Bedford I craved some furry company and a little man in my life that wasn't as much hassle as some of the dates I went on. I thought it would help with me meeting new people and making friends and maybe more. But alas the one-bed top floor penthouse had no balcony and thus I was not allowed one by my landlord. And then I met Mr Warehouse and his beloved pup and the rest is history. 

They say you have your first one, the golden child (quite literally in our case) and they are an absolute dream. Sleeps well, doesn't cry, good by themselves, not bothered by anything and generally a happy baby, or in our case a happy pooch. My Step-Dog is not phased by anything and takes the world in her stride, people knocking at the door, maybe the occasional gruff, but fireworks? No problem. Potty training? Don't sweat it! Motorbikes and strange loud noises? Pffft! Children and other dogs? No bother. Left alone? Happy to have her own company. 

Therefore you are lulled into a false pretence that your next one will be just as easy. Just like with babies, Mr. Warehouse grabbed the opportunity a few weeks ago to make our family four paws bigger and finally my dream of having a little furry baby came true. I would have said that having Frankenstein is a little like being a parent, so I am told. He is sometimes a nightmare, OK most of the time, but his love and affection is growing and our bond is getting stronger by the day and I am sure that we will have the relationship I have always dreamt of ... Just need to let him know its OK to be alone sometimes!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A present from Santa and delivered by Cupid!

Evening, 

To think that this time last week as I wrote to you all and told of how upsetting and worrying it was about Pooch's aural haematoma (similar to a blood blister in humans) which has now thank goodness, cleared up to almost all gone, I had no idea of what would come. 

Luckily unlike most dogs and cats that have an aural haematoma Pup has recovered well and not suffered or been left with a cauliflower ear, crumpled and disfigured from the trauma. However should this happen again, I think that surgery is going to be the only option. However, all that worry seemed to melt away as I waited patiently. 

Gazing out of the window at the setting sun I had been waiting all day for this moment. Truth be told, I had been waiting for this moment for pretty much my whole life since being a toddler. Seeing the blue rickety old van pull into the street I came running down the stairs, the pit of my stomach flipping nervously as it filled with anxiety and anticipation at what was to come. 
"They're here! They're here!" I squeaked excitedly at Mr. Warehouse as he too peered out the window at the arriving vehicle. 

You see this all started on Tuesday evening, as Mr. Warehouse and I had prepared ourselves for bed with Pooch as we normally did, turning off the telly, closing down the lights and going into lockdown making sure all doors and windows were shut. It was about quarter to ten at night when the phone rang. I looked at Mr. Warehouse as I showed him the caller ID. It was his Mom, my future mother-in-law. Worried I answered and before she even had a chance to explain I promptly told her that this was about the time that people call in the night when someone has died. 
"Do you want to see some puppies?" she said simply and calmly like some sort of child molester. I mean, of course I did. Immediately hitting redial to facetime her. No sooner had she accepted the call I saw a bundle of fluffiness. A little white girl with patches of brown and black splodging her body, another smooth black and tan puppy and a third wirey black and tan fur baby. Instantly I start freaking out. 

"I thought someone had died or had an accident. I thought that you had got engaged or something. God Damn women you scared me half to death" I said. After showing Mr Warehouse and getting close-ups of all the cuteness it was time for some seriousness. 
"I am being serious. We're leaving in five minutes and were taking one of the girls so which one do you want?" Suddenly everything seemed real and I focused my twilight mind from puppies and cute faces on a screen. Like a child to her parents, I turned to my beloved fiance and pleaded with him to let me get one. After a few pushes, he seemed to give in reluctantly knowing I would probably do whatever I would want regardless of what he had to say. 

"I can't make a decision like that I am afraid, as much as I would like to," I said to my excited mother-in-law-to-be. Reluctantly I ended the call and Mr. Warehouse shook his head. We needed to talk about it and I needed to make sure it was the best decision for the family as a whole, not just me and my selfish dreams of being a dog momma to a baby puppy. Talking it over that night and the following day, we called Momma Warehouse back. After further talks, we discovered that it was a friend of a friend who used to breed toy poodles who gave it up to look after her sick husband at home who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia. Unfortunately one night back in early December the Husband had let the breeding stud in with the family pet, a Jack Russell terrier and she fell pregnant. several months later and around Valentine's day a surprise, or nine, were delivered. The lady herself knew nothing about it as she had been so busy with Christmas, New Year and looking after her husband and home she had neglected to notice her dog's belly growing. 

With the unexpected litter now twelve-weeks old they were already a month passed being legally allowed to leave their mother and so she took the decision to find them homes. One of the first questions I asked my future mother-in-law was how much. Bearing in mind that the Toy Poodle / Jack Russell mix would already be a popular choice for families as they are intelligent, active little things, small enough to be around kids and hypoallergenic so great for allergy sufferers. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The reason being is that not only was it a terrible accident because her poorly husband had not known that they no longer bred dogs, but also that as a result of this expenses had already been stretched by extra food and what not. The added vaccinations, chipping, insurance and everything else that normally comes with a new puppy would have financially not been possible for the poor lady and her husband and so she wanted to give them away to families that would love and care for them as she had, making sure they were their forever homes. 

Which leads us up to the moment I started with. Opening the door I stood patiently at the front door with the rest of the family, like a mother ready to accept her newborn. Ushering me over to the van I peered in and saw the sweetest little bundle of tuft. Black and tan, with a white belly I scooped him up and took him into his new home. Welcome home our little Frankenstein - An homage to my love of all things spooky, Halloween and macabre. That but also the fact he was made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

More Missing Minutes of a Different Kind

Hello, 

So it's got to that point of the year again where I am constantly bombarded by people telling me about their holidays or their upcoming beach bargain breaks. To say that I am jealous would be a major understatement. Tenerife, Majorca, Lanzarote and Bulgaria the list goes on. I know in my heart of hearts that the four-hundred quid sat in my savings account should really be used towards our house fund, deposit or redecorating and not a holiday. Ugggh but its so hard! When everyone else is choosing which flip-flops to pack or which bikini will go with which Snapchat filter, here I am trying to work out how many stick-on tiles I can buy for under a tenner to do the kitchen and why Ronseal is so expensive. And after the last few weeks of collecting bits and pieces for the house and redecorating I was ready to start. No Weddings. No Funerals. Well, nearly ... 

Relaxing on a Friday evening, I was having one of those rare moments to myself. Mr. Warehouse had gone to visit his brother in a small village outside of Bedford after work and was staying there to play a few games of pool before coming home. I didn't think anything of the phone call I've picked up whilst putting the TV on pause. I expected some sorry reason as to why he was going to be late home or maybe even the fact that he wanted me to picking up as he had been drinking. No. None of the above. The words 'Don't Panic' are never a good phrase to start off with when you ride a motorbike and were expected home ten minutes ago. To be honest I had been awaiting this moment for a while now. I thought that I would have been much more in a panic or a bit of a flap about it all, but an odd sense of calm came over me and I just thought "Oh for goodness sake what have you done now?"

After leaving his brothers around about 7.30pm and with plenty of time to get home before it was dark, Mr Warehouse whizzed off down the road from Village to Village as he normally did and had done many a time before. Only this time was different. Coming round a bend and over a humped railway bridge, Mr. Warehouse lost control of the motorbike beneath him, skidding and crashing into a road sign. Successfully taking that out my boyfriend flew for a further twenty or thirty meters before hitting a tree. Knocked unconscious, Mr. Warehouse only came round when he heard the sound of a cars engine, a door slamming shut and a women running towards him, asking if he was OK. "No love, just thought I would have a little nap face down in a pile of stinging nettles with my bike on its side and still running" was what my gorgeous boy wanted to tell her, but Mr. Warehouse said to me that he just thanked her for her time and for stopping, but said that he would be OK in a few moments and not to call for anyone. 

Accepting by this point that he was on his feet and seemingly talking OK, the woman left the scene in a rush to wherever she was heading. About five minutes later I received the dreaded phone call. I knew that it was Mr Warehouse as soon as he spoke and this relieved me a little bit that he was clearly well enough to talk and it wasn't a police officer or paramedic. I think I would have freaked more. Calmly and as collectively as possible I continued to keep him talking asking all manner of questions about what had happened and where he was in relation to his surroundings. But being a typical man he brushed it all off, dusted himself down, got back on the bike and drove home. 

After the phone call ended I called his brother immediately asking him to whizz round the corner a couple of minutes and see if he was still there. Unfortunately he wasn't and by that time Mr Warehouse had driven off leaving a few chunks of plastic and debris in his wake. I promised to update Big-Brother Warehouse about how he was when he got in and to check if we need to go to accident and emergency. About twenty minutes later and with the sun now setting I heard a bike rolling through the quiet streets. Undressing my boyfriend and making sure that he was OK I could see that he was well within the grips of shock. Tongue was white as a ghost and he was waiting up and down the front room checking every inch of his body for scratches or bruising. 

Sitting him down I make sure to contact his family including his brothers and his mother, and all whilst I made sure he missed a good strong and sugary cup of tea. Us British eh?! Thankfully he was alright in terms of no cuts or bruising just a couple of light cat scratches from bushes and a couple of rashers from where he woke up in some stinging nettles. I was probably more concerned at the fact that he was now shaking and saying that he was cold, not to mention a large headache as well as pain in his hand, wrist and lower back. Yet again I said to him that we should probably go to A&E as he had been involved in a major bike accident not only that but he has fuzzy memory about what exactly happened and thinks he may have been knocked unconscious. Mr. Warehouse wasn't having any of it though. 

After a brief heated discussion and a talk with his mother, Mr Warehouse and I came to a compromise that we would call the 111 service setup for the NHS. After going through numerous questions and answering yes, no and explaining what had happened in general the operator had decided with her superiors that a ambulance should be sent on its way just to be sure. Ambulance arriving it couldn't have been quicker or at a more convenient time as Mr Warehouse was going into full blown shock mode, suffering from chills and hot sweats as well as feeling nauseous. But disaster was not over yet as I had to get the dog out of the way of the paramedics in order for them to do their job. As I went to go and grab Pooch's collar, she told hard and I felt harder which only meant one thing for my nail that was holding on as tightly as possible. SNAP!

Crying out in agony on the inside I tossed the dog into the bedroom and shut the door behind her cussing at her under my breath. Mary mother of God did it hurt and oh my goodness I thought that I was actually going to be pissing blood from my finger it thumped so hard. As the paramedics did their job well running tests and checking Mr warehouses Obs I was standing there feeling like a lemon and wondering whether I should inform the medical team that I myself had also had an injury - A broken nail. I didn't and after a brief conversation about how to try and stay safe on the road the wonderful medicine Angels left. I suppose that I just have to be thankful that the equipment that Mr. Warehouse was wearing did it's job and potentially saved him from otherwise more serious injuries or potentially even worse. God only knows what the outcome would have been should he have not been wearing his protective jacket, trousers and helmet. So many times across so many different continents and countries I am sure that you all will have seen that idiot on a motorbike driving down the road with nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of shorts on! It just doesn't bare thinking about what could have happened. 

And so Mr Warehouse has spent most of the weekend recovering either on the sofa or in bed. We had a look at the motorcycle itself and it seems as though most of the damage is simply plastic and could easily be replaced or repaired. I think my main concern is whether it drives OK as the alignment seems slightly off and when Mr. Warehouse drove it home he was obviously battling a shock as well as adrenaline coursing through his veins. Hopefully nothing is too expensive as I would ideally like to try and get some things done sooner rather than later in the flat. Who knows maybe it will be this weekend that we finally get round to doing some DIY! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Burning Love

Hi-Dee-Hi, 

Landing in Stansted after what seemed like the longest day ever I was more than ready to go home and get a well rested nights sleep before work the next morning. After yet again trawling round Christmas Markets and the city sights of Prague, picking up the few last little bits and bobs, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had spent the rest of our day hanging out in Cafe's and bars. Getting up and out was a rarity over the last few days in Prague and I think the earliest we made it out on any day was eleven and that was only because it was our first morning. 

Nevertheless I was glad to be home, even if it was more than fifty miles away. Battling through the airport and passing through Passport control with nothing more than a few questions and a check that I hadn't come in on an illegal document. Sparking up our last Cigarette, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I revelled in how much of a good time we had on our mini trip to the European Christmas market / City Break. "Maybe a nice cup of coffee and another cigarette before I head home to my pooch and boyfriend?" I thought to myself as we stood in the cold awaiting Papa Tweedle-Dee to come pick us up from the collection points. Just as I finished my Cigarette my phone started to ping. Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Not bothering to answer straight away, assuming they were Facebook or Twitter notifications I ignored them, joking with the Bestie that it might even be Mr. Warehouse worrying if I have been kidnapped or held up in some sort of terrorist attack. 

Soon Miss Tweedle-Dee's phone started pinging as well, although more conscience of her online presence she responded and looked alarmed when she unlocked the screen. 
"Its the boyfriend. He says you need to call him urgently there is a problem!" Miss Tweedle-Dee read off from the message he had sent her. I called just as Papa Tweedle-Dee pulled up. Thinking maybe it was something to do with the dog or maybe Momma Warehouse or maybe another one of his clan I worried as I dialled his number. 
"So What is the urgent emergency, do you miss me?! Ill be home soon you kno-" I asked as I was cut off mid sentence. Answering back in hysterics was Mr. Warehouse. Thought the chesty coughs and panicked voices I could hardly make out what he was saying. 

"Don't Panic but there has been a fire!" Mr. Warehouse started, in between unconvincing coughs. Everything was not OK and I needed to get home pronto. Explaining on the car journey back up the motorway, Mr. Warehouse explained that as normal he had put the washing on with the intention it would be done by the time I got home, and ergo ready for a overnight dry in the tumble-dryer. Unfortunately after having it on for just a matter of minutes, maybe ten at most whilst walking our eight-year old (Labrador that is) the boyfriend and the pup arrived home to a flat thick with black smoke. Opening the front door it billowed out into the fresh night air he said, probably no later than nine at night. Instincts kicking in he ran back into the flat, with hope of stemming the buyer and making sure it wasn't to damage anything else in its path. 

As stupid as that sounds there is some method in his Madness. You see when Mr. Warehouse was younger, maybe in his early teens, and long before our little pooch was born; him and his mother were involved in a very serious, maliciously intended arson attack by someone close to the family. Traumatised, I couldn't believe the things that I was hearing when we first started dating and he told me the story of how he had nearly died. It was serious and Mr Warehouse and his mum lost almost all of their worldly possessions and were left with pretty much the clothes on their backs. It was about the same time of year as I remember Mr. Warehouse detailing how cold it was on his feet the ground whilst fire fighters fought the blaze. Obviously it is something that would seriously mess with someones head, let alone a kid. Momma Warehouse and a much younger Mr. Warehouse had to start a fresh start, begging, borrowing and stealing (OK maybe not that far) anything to try and make a home together and get back to normality. 

So you can imagine what last Tuesday night's event brought back for my dearest Mr. Warehouse. Acting as he had not been able to as a pre-teen he went back into the property, ordering pup to stay outside. Finding the source of the smoke in the kitchen (stupidly) he went to open the door, emitting more smoke to the already toxic atmosphere. Cough throughout Mr. Warehouse was able to lift out the burning clothes, mangled together but hot, molten plastic and metal, smouldering in his very hands. dumping them into the bath tub (luckily next door to the kitchen) Mr. Warehouse dowsed them in water from the shower and returned to the smoke filled kitchen in order to get to the electrics of the machine. Pulling it out with all his might through limited vision he was able to disconnect the machine and unplug it from the mains in order to stop the fire from spreading. 

Outside he came to his senses and after checking that our little lady was OK he tried to call me. But I was 35,000 feet in the air, probably over France or Europe somewhere. Instead he sat tight for over an hour until I had landed before calling me. Terrified as to what I would come home to I rushed back, not stopping for my coffee or last holiday cigarette with Mama and Papa Tweedle-Dee. The entire journey home I raced as fast as I could, speeding all the way I am not proud to admit it,, hitting hundred on the A421 back home. I needed to be with my little family. They were the ones that mattered the most. 

But the thing is that we order it don't we we put on our washing machines, tumble-dryers, dishwashers and even microwaves and simply get on with our lives. Those sorts of household appliances are the ones that you leave to do their job whilst you do yours. You do it. Your neighbour does it. Heck your Nana probably does it. No one in their right mind would have the time to sit and watch the washing machine go round and round or their dishwasher whirl away. It is probably something that you and I have done a thousand times before - Put the machine on and go to bed or head out for the day. But boy am I glad all the facts about Mr. Warehouse was only out ten-minutes. I dread to think at the possibilities that I could have returned home to from Prague. This was serious. 

Everything else can be replaced; books, pictures, clothes and documents can all be had again, but family can't. Mr. Warehouse was my start of something special and he had risked his life tonight, not only putting himself in danger but also the other residents and tenants in the block. Thankfully after those stern words Mr. Warehouse agreed with me that he should not have gone back in but with the circumstances from last time he felt it his duty to protect what little we had since he was unable to do that before. Luckily no one was hurt and after getting everyone checked out, including the dog, we are all safe and sound. 

The fire brigade concluded that it was something to do with a heating element or component in the machine that had become faulty which makes me wonder about some of the issues we had earlier in the year in relation to the tumble-drying part of the washer-dryer our landlord had installed, but alas I trusted his judgement in getting it fixed and ever since have been using the household appliance as a washing machine only, relying on a separate tumble-dryer to help after the wash was completed. 

Thankfully there has been no smoke damage and nothing was majorly burnt or broken in the process apart from the contents of the machine which was numerous jumpers (on of them being my favourite), some towels, work uniforms and a couple of expensive football shirts which just helped to melt everything together in one toasted, charred lump. I was pleased that I had renewed my home contents insurance just days before setting off for Bath a few weeks ago and now will have to go through the rigmarole of setting up a claim in order to get back our lost items which the Landlord will help with. 

A week on we are conscience of the lingering acrid and smokey scent that still hangs in the air, but with little if any at all ventilation down our Fritzl type corridor of our flat, there is little that we can do. If I could move out tomorrow I would and now it is more important than ever to get someone of our own. I am just glad that I didn't come home to a dead family. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

My Adopted Family

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

Half Way To My Fab Fifties!

Hello Hello, 

Waiting in the reception of Cardington's Test centre it was safe to say I was anxious. Sitting there, early because I have to not because I wanted to. If I had it my way I would have turned up with enough time for a quick wee and smile at the receptionist, hoping she may influence he decision of the examiner, which of course, is silly. Moments later after I returned from the bathroom where I wished good luck to another lady also taking her test for the first time. Nervous, I watched as the examiner, a short man with an alternative look including ear tunnels and and tattoos. Calling my name I took a gulp and stepped forward. Shaking his hand I introduced myself as did he. Showing him my licence I was escorted to the car park where I was asked some questions. Getting into the drivers seat the examiner asked me to start the engine and so my test began. 

Driving down the road, stopping occasionally for manoeuvres and traffic, I felt that the first half of my test was going well. Feeling confident I continued to show my instructor exactly what I had learnt since April. However I had stalled several times, mainly for being in either the wrong gear or simply for driving far too slowly in traffic, all which added toward my final score of seven minors. Also included in that was not stopping with enough distance to the car in front whilst in traffic as well as speed, although whether it was too slow or too fast I am not so sure. 

Coming through a small village on the outskirts of Bedford I came up to a junction marked with a Give way sign. I stopped. I looked. I waited. I thought that since everywhere I looked was a red light that this might apply to me and my lane of traffic. I was wrong. I knew that after I had been sat there for a few moments. Saying out loud what I had done wrong I moved out into the direction I wanted to go, however with traffic now oncoming from the opposite direction on the crossroads I was unable to make the junction through safely. With the examiner pressing his foot on the brake gently I knew by that point I had failed. I was twelve-minutes from the test centre. Twelve-minutes. I was so close. 

Pulling into the test centre again I heard the deepness of my examiners voice and I knew even before he offered his apologies that I had unfortunately failed. Thanking my examiner I courteously got out of the car and my instructor got into the drivers seat, silent as a mouse. As I walked around the car I heard crying. Deep, tearful, hysterical crying. Was it the women that I met in the toilets? I don't know. I could hear her, but I couldn't see, and in all fairness I didn't want to look at everyone else happy at passing. 

Driving me to work my Instructor was quiet. He mentioned a few things including that it was a good drive other than my mishap at the crossroads. Honestly I think I knew it was going to happen. The odds were stacked against me and with only twenty to thirty percent of people passing first time it wasn't looking great from the outset. Nevertheless though I carried on and did my best. Besides all the best drivers pass second time right? Pulling into work, some of the lads were having a cigarette. Smiling I allowed my instructor to park the car safely to which I promised to book in more lessons after my birthday weekend and departed. Walking into reception I heard one of the lads congratulate me. The other one asked how it went and I could only shake my head in disappointment. 
"Nooo!" One of them exclaimed "It cant be true, your instructor drove you back they always do that once you have passed. Your just joshing with us?!" he continued as I explained what had happened. Heading upstairs, not as late as I was anticipating I was greeted with the usual 'hellos' and 'mornings', But as I approached my desk Miss Hackney (Originally from the area and the most 'gangsta' person I know), one of my closest work colleagues, looked at me with longing eye and a wanting gaze. I shook my head and she cuddled me as a friend would, apologetic for my lack of drivers competence. Running through everything though I was honestly OK. I didn't cry or even have a tear up. I was fine. Glad in fact, relieved it was finally over. Besides I think if I had passed first time around I would have almost certainly been a cocky and arrogant driver, ergo second time around I will be better and more skilled than before. Continuing with life though I headed home to tell Mr. Warehouse and he cuddled me as Miss Hackney had. But there was no time to be glum. After all I was turning twenty-five in a matter of days! 

Coming in the following morning I was in much of a better mood for Friday was my work birthday and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy (She is from 'oop nooorth) had made me a big surprise on my desk. Glitter and confetti stars were everywhere. Cupcakes, party hats, nibble and treats all adorned my desk. Ten minutes later I finally have some order, but it need not matter much for it was my work birthday and it was nearly, oh so nearly the weekend. Finishing work I headed into town with Miss Hackney to meet Mr. Warehouse and pick up all the food for the party the following night, before heading home and hosting Miss Hackney for dinner. That night Mr. Warehouse and I anticipated the dramas tomorrow would bring, no real clue on what it would hold. 

The following morning was going swimmingly, that was until the therapist called and explained my spa day had to be cancelled due to not having any therapists available. Annoyed, Mr. Warehouse and I headed into town to pick up a few last minute things and start decorating the venue. Speaking to Momma Warehouse the previous evening we knew that she would be busy in the morning moving houses so left her to it as we would see her in a few short hours since she was coming to help Mr. Warehouse to cook and prepare all the food. But as half-two rolled round we still had no communication from her and it wasn't until Mr. Warehouse got a call from his older brother to inform us that in actual fact she wasn't coming, or helping with the food, or giving us a lift with the food to the venue. In a right pickle we had depended on her to help us and now what were we going to do. Making the best of a bad situation we forked out for Taxi-Cabs to bring all the food and take everything back home at the end of the night. With Mr. Warehouse racing home and busting his balls to get all the food ready I was sat in the hairdressers getting a much needed cut. 

Returning home a few hours later I cracked open the Prosecco and proceeded to get ready. Donning the same blush tonal gown I wore to the wedding in Newquay this summer I felt the part. Arriving at the venue I was pleased once all the food was laid out and it was finally time to relax with those that meant the most. As family and friend began to arrive I was delighted with the turn out, only a few guests didn't attend and I suppose they had good reasoning's. Even both side of my family turned up, my uncles from my mother and my fathers sides which, seeing them embrace each other in a way I thought I'd never see really choked me up and definatly brought a tear to my eye. I was saddened that my dearest Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb did not turn up until much later in the evening, even after a few people had left already. Looking at my clock I could see that it was gone half-eight. Where were they? Soon enough they turned up, although I could tell that they were annoyed for being late which was somewhat not their fault. Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee came as well, joining in with the drinks and the banter. 

The evening was a massive success and the food? Well I am more than disappointed to say that after all of Mr. Warehouse's hard work, there was a huge amount of food that had simply not been touched. And now I was faced with a alcohol infused choice to make. The bar man wanted to start clearing up for the end of the night and that included clearing the food. I offered him and the other staff members to help themselves and encouraged my party-goers to tuck in also but it hardly made a dent. Mr. Warehouse was refusing to take the remainder home, despite paying for a cab back home with all my presents and the like. Suffice to say I was fuming at the prospect of throwing away more than sixty-quids worth of food. I am simmering now but for sure Mr. Warehouse will be taking me our for dinner when he gets paid to make up for it. 

Heading into town after the party I partied until the wee-small hours, finally getting home at gone four-in-the-morning. I fell asleep that night with a subway sndwiched between my tits and a smile on my face. Haha, still got it! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx