Do Not Look Back, You're Not Going That Way ...

Heyy, 

Almost settled into our new home in the countryside Mr Warehouse and I decided to embark on a weekend away with the dog. Nowhere particularly fancy just a hotel by the seaside in Bournemouth for a couple of nights. And truth be told honestly I think we needed it. 

Following the stress and pressure from every angle over the last few months on top of my poor mental health of late has certainly not helped our relationship blossom as best it could given the fact we are newly engaged. For me anyway I think the fact that I am mentally preparing myself for a monumental life-changing event and inadvertently my focus has been on that rather than my relationship with my fiance. I suppose I just thought that after getting engaged and moving into our first home together it would be a time for constant banging, laughs and giggles all the way. I suppose in a way things have been difficult a little bit since Mr Warehouse had his motorcycle accident. 

Our first morning in our new home was meant to be something special. I would wave of Mr Warehouse as he went to work meanwhile I would be safe and sound in my cosy bed having a much needed lay in before getting up to unpack the rest of the boxes strewn about the house after my normal day off routine of coffee, toast with posh jam and a dose of Holly and Phil on Pre-Recorded This Morning and maybe a cheeky Homes Under The Hammer. But less than twenty-minutes after Mr Warehouse had kissed my forehead and wave me goodbye from the bedroom door I had a phone call. Answering in my croaky slumber I was pretty sure that the phone call was not for Good News. Listening to the voice on the other end of the phone it sounded panicked and in pain. They sounded scared and we're asking for my help. 

"It hurts. Everything hurts" was all that I could remember Mr. Warehouse telling me before I started getting my shit together. Jumping out of bed I explained as calmly as I could to Mr Warehouse to stay still and make sure he does not move a single muscle in the knowledge that he could well paralysed himself or even worse. Taking a very brief note of what hurts and where I hurriedly threw on some clothes including leggings from the night before and the most quick and conveniently easy to put on top half; Nope not a T-Shirt, a button down shirt ladies and gents. For some odd reason I thought that opening up my wardrobe and grabbing a Chequered shirt with buttons was my best option rather than my embarrassingly large collection of slogan Tee's.

Running down the stairs and out the door shoving on trainers I have gone for the last three days non-stop and grabbing at a first aid kit not knowing what level of injury would await me on arrival. In my bleary half asleep moments I locked the house said goodbye to the dog and started the car all in a few moments. As I started my short journey through the empty Village that chilly morning I decided that it would probably be a good shout either way to call an ambulance and I am glad that I did for when I arrived within four-minutes of the initial first phone call from Mr Warehouse he was refusing all medical treatment and was despite my instructions to stay still, he was up on both feet and walking around, talking to another biker who had seen the abandoned motorcycle and pulled over to check he was OK. 

Within a couple of minutes the motorcyclist had gone on his merry way and Mr. Warehouse and I stood shocked and blurry eyed at each other, shivering from cold and shock. Nothing was cut or broken that I could see however I thought that my Fiance may have dislocated his shoulder or even his name in the crash. As the ambulance pulled up I made sure to inform them of everything I knew up until that point including any medical history or medicine I could record that he was taking for his eczema and asthma. Although after giving Mr Warehouse the once over the paramedics thought that it would be best practise to take him into A&E template down to the fact that there was pain in the neck, shoulder and back areas. As Mr Warehouse went to lay down on the splint ready for the ambulance I knocked on a nearby thatched cottage door. No one answered at first however I decided to bide my time as I knew that with the sun coming up someone soon would be up for school. Awaiting a moment or two I knocked again and this time a little frail old woman came to a nearby window and asked how she made help me. 

After explaining what had happened right outside her front door she kindly let me hoof my Fiance motorcycle into a safe area of her large front garden in order to keep safe whilst we went to hospital. Knocking on the Ambulance door, one of the paramedics finally came out to explain that they would be going to Bedford General Hospital and that I should probably follow in the car as I could not leave it on the side of the road due to the safety of other drivers. Almost bouncing into autopilot mode I jumped back into the car and headed to the hospital in advance of the ambulance. Thinking in a more rational sense I stop at a local McDonald's to pick up a coffee in order to avoid the high costs at the hospital canteen and made my way to the Accident and Emergency room just in time for Mr Warehouse's arrival in his own private waggon. 

Rolling him through to the reception and checking in desk I could tell that my beautiful gorgeous boyfriend was definitely on something for the pain. In agony and clearly confused he dried out asking for me unbeknownst that I was by his side all along. The following few hours were spent running back and forth to the car in order to put more money in the machine, calling around family to let them know what had happened and the seriousness of the accident itself and what seemed to be a never-ending scrolling of Pinterest. All the while Mr Warehouse was seemingly unaware of what was going on around him, pumped full of Ketamine and Morphine for the pain, coupled with the stronger Entonox (Gas and Air) in the hospital, he was away with the fairies most of the seven hours we were their. Finally though after a CT scan, CAT scans and X-ray's, we were allowed to go home and with his arm in a sling to help ease the pain on his shoulder and elbow, Mr Warehouse left bruised, battered and shaken but alive. 

A week or so on Mr Warehouse is OK, although I think mentally he is still challenged by his accident and has had several wobbles when on it, struggling to ride past the point in which he came off and barely even looking at his motorcycle let alone using it. It may take some time to get back on the Horse, so as to speak, but I am confident that in time he will be alright. I suppose in a way, in that moment, two lovers separated by a thin blue curtain in a busy A&E department on a cold November Monday morning following what could have been a quite serious RTC, nothing else mattered. The house. The boxes. The lay in and the TV. Nothing else mattered by my Beau and getting him better. Money couldn't help him, neither could Love or anything material. But hope could and with all that I am I stayed with him through everything I could or was allowed to and if I couldn't I was only behind a thin screen, and although he probably won't or maybe ever will remember, I was yelling to him like a soccer mom just how much I loved him and how everything would be OK. 

'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

The Two Wheels That Moved The Soul

Hello, 

So after last week's blog post about Miscarriage, Stillborn and lost pregnancies I had a huge response from people I knew as well as a few new faces, all of them talking openly about the struggles they have had with conceiving and pregnancy. I sometimes forget that my words can actually have a real life meaning outside of the screen from my tablet and I would like to thank everybody that contributed in their own special way only helping to bridge the gap between those that have unfortunately experience such sadness and those who do not know what to say when presented with a similar situation. 

Moving on though from last week and continuing with my gym and personal training sessions I have learnt to my surprise from my last week or two of weigh-in's with my PT I have lost a total of twelve centimetres of my waist alone! Clothes are starting to fit better now and I am coming back into the realms of High Street shopping as opposed to the prospect of looking in catalogues for the larger lady. Asides from healthy eating and the odd trip to the gym a few times a week, things have been relatively relaxed lately. I suppose with January being January most people do not have any money in order to go out and do anything so exercise and limiting calories is probably a necessity rather than choosing. 

One thing that was prominent on our "family" calendar this week was Mr. Warehouse's CBT Test. The CBT test is a compulsory basic training test that all people have to take if they would like to ride a motorbike with an engine size under 125cc. Ideal for getting to and from work as well as town and city driving, I could not think of anything more perfect for a Christmas present. Mr. Warehouse worked very reasonable and an all intents and purposes was really good working hours, starting at eight in the morning and finishing at four in the afternoon. Some people I know would probably kill all those sorts of things with children and even without would just be a blessing in order to carry out errands or just simply having a little bit more time in bed and getting home a little earlier. 

Unfortunately though for my dearest Mr Warehouse up until Saturday he had to get public transport to work which left him time poor and loathing life in the darker months when the cold, wet and snow would bring him down. This weekend I dropped him off at the CBT training test centre and waved him off goodbye hoping against all hope that the next time I saw him he would have passed. With what seemed like the hours ticking by like minutes I was anxiously waiting the phone call to come and collect my Beau. At just gone 4-o'clock and as the sun started to descend, giving way to a beautiful sunset and mild evening I set off ready to hear the good news. Admittedly it was early as I didn't anticipate picking him up for at least another hour and on my less than 15 minute journey I was worried that this may be an inkling into the news that lay ahead. 

"Maybe he didn't pass or the instructor were not confident in him taking to the streets for his practical tests?" I worried as I pulled into the parking lot. Getting in I held my breath for the results. It wasn't good. Mr. Warehouse had failed. Or at least that is what he had me thinking for the first ten-minutes of the journey home. Gutted I really thought that he had failed. So convincing he was in his joshing, I was supportive in my answers hoping that he would not be too upset, unbeknown to me that he had already aced it with flying colours. When Mr. Warehouse finally let the cat out of the bag and told me the truth that he had indeed passed I was over the moon for him and so excited. 

Finally my boyfriend and I would start our lives together, at least in a much easier format than before. If chance would have it Mr. Warehouse could even find another job with more money and better career prospects. Things would be much simpler. Not only would he save himself in time getting to and from work, but he would now have the time to visit his brothers, go to the gym or maybe even start a hobby with all the freedom that your own transport brings. In turn this would lead to better savings for a house not necessarily being tied to the one area of Bedford but being able to look at cheaper houses further afield. And maybe, just maybe, a couple of nice holidays every year, slowly ticking things off our bucket list of travel before eventually settling down. 

I suppose we will just have to wait and see what the future brings, but for now it will be sorting out Mr. Warehouse and getting him back out onto the road. After that it'll be time to save like crazies for I want to buy a house by the time Christmas songs are playing on the radio. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Electrifying Discovery!

Morning Everyone, 

So after last weeks postings subjecting organ donation and life generally I feel like mine is being tested to the max right now. Since last week I have been dealing in some issues that very well might end whatever I have planned for the foreseeable future and may well break me financially. 

A few months ago I was told by my current Electricity and Gas provider, British Gas, that I was more than two-hundred quid in credit with them - Meaning I had money owed to me, and so being thrifty I thought that I would leave the money with them so as I could release it and use it to fund a holiday or some much needed cash-ola towards me getting my Motorbike licence. So you can imagine my surprise when I was to be told that not only am I not in credit at all, but I now owe them a outstanding debt of over two-thousand pounds!

It all started when I first moved into my little, town apartment in January 2014. I called the current supplier of energy, British Gas, and explained to them that I was looking to join as a new customer and after going through the hundred-and-one questions I was soon set up and registered with what is a renowned and well established company in the UK. In the first three months of that year I should have had a meter reading but was just simply put on an estimated bill instead roughly guessing what the my usage as a single gal in a one-bed flat could or would use. I awaited an appointment and an engineer to arrive but they never came. I set up and continued to pay my direct debits as instructed for a prearranged amount and did so with no hiccups until August that year when I was told via a letter I was paying far too much for my Gas and Electricity. With little or no explanation and already seeing I was well within a large credit note already I continued to pay with my smaller estimated bill. I asked for someone to come and either read my meter or to help me read it but again with no avail as I held out for yet again more appointments or engineer visits but with nothing happening I gave up. 

That was until I learnt from Martin Lewis of MoneySavingExpert.co.uk that you can actually leave your current energy supplier up to forty-nine days I think before your contract is to be renewed. So as I was approaching this crucial time I started looking into way I could release the money tied up with the energy company and close down my account ready to switch. But it was never to be that easy. I subsequently found out after a engineer finally came round to read my meter, after being told countless times that the reading I was giving was incorrect, that what I was reading was correct and in turn I had been underpaying for my electricity for months. Ever since I had moved in I had been put on an estimated billing allowance and instead of having meter readings at least twice a year I had none and as a roundabout result had an massive outstanding balance to pay. 

This has left me wondering now what to do. Not only has this situation left me wondering the work ethic and even the humanity of these energy companies but how I was able to get into such a position. As I had explained to the adviser, I would love to pull a massive wad of cash out of my arsehole but sadly my Daddy doesn't work in banking and I don't have any savings so the likelihood of this all getting resolved quickly is virtually none. It makes me sick to the stomach thinking about all of this and how it has now impacted my life. Two-grand may not be a lot to others but for me is a massive amount. I don't know how or even when I am going to be able to pay it all off and the stress of it all is sometimes unbearable. Holidays, Motorbikes, Thailand, Puppies and nice new flats are strictly off the menu until this debt has been cleared. But rest assured, I will not be going down without a fight. I feel wronged by, British Gas, and whilst I don't dispute the energy use and the probable bill, I feel that as a result of their lack in communication, poor customer service and complete lack of empathy I will have to fight this battle with everything that I have. Tomorrow I will be investigating further avenues on legal advice, consumer helplines such as Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) and technical errors within the network to check if there are any faults with the wiring and finding out where and how I move forward from this horrendous debacle.

I am putting my case forward to some people who may be able to help me in the consumer/energy provider sector however I would be very much appreciated if anyone with the same or similar problems with this provider in particular could get in touch I would love to hear your stories, with or without closure. Get in touch the usual ways, through my Facebook and Twitter handles or simply message me back on here! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Driving Me Crazy!

Morning everyone, 

Summer. It happens for roughly half a year, much less however if you live somewhere like here in England, and as the days become longer and the nights become shorter (Seems to remind me of some 'emo' lyrics I once used to probably blare out of my teenage room as I applied yet another layer of eye-liner) I finally get the sense that holidays, bikini's and BBQ's are mere moments away. But how will I get to all these places? For I, a twenty-three year old career women, has still never even sat behind a wheel of a car let alone driven one!

Yes as hard as it is to imagine I have still not even applied for my provisional licence yet let alone sat my theory test. I know, I know - I need to get onto it, but in all fairness I have had other things more important to take up my time over the past few years like failing relationships, finding a secure job and managing to keep a roof over my head and all between juggling a life of friends, partying and college education. And so now is the time. I have finally decided that whilst my finances at the moment wont quite stretch to a car I should at least get myself onto the road. And by that I don't mean just go and lye down on the rough tarmac of the lane I live. No, I am going to get my bike licence!

Ever since I was seventeen I have wanted to learn to drive and pass my test. I knew from an early age I wanted my first car to be a cute little red Nissan Micra, four doors and a cute little dashboard, complete with an array of ornaments and toys. It just seems appropriate. People have asked me why that car, and not something different and my answer is always simple - Whenever I draw a car that is the car I draw, it is usually red and always has four doors, for the principle that three doors is just inconvenient not only for the driver but also for passengers as well. Ahh, and the name would be something like 'Poppy' or 'Rosie' - because you need to name your car!? Who doesn't?!

The unfortunate thing is that 'Poppy' or 'Rosie' will never make it to existence (at least not for the near future anyway) as whilst my job pays well, it doesn't pay well enough to run a one-bedroom flat and a car. If I was living with someone else such as a friend or a partner whom was contributing then sure I might be able to afford it but I wouldn't be able to trust that other person and their financial input. I did it before and look where that got me - A whole heap of heartache that's what! Besides, if and when that person does eventually move out (or leave) then that leaves me in yet another sticky situ that I don't fancy finding myself in again. I mean I could always go back to my second job for a while, but the thing is, on-top of my £700.00 a month in household running costs including my rent at £400.00, I would have to be working at the call centre permanently in order to afford to run my little  'Poppy' or 'Rosie'. So in effect I would be working constantly and have a car, but couldn't go anywhere as I would be working all the hours god, or any other religious figure would give me. 

In a way it is frustrating that I would be able to save up the money to pay for driving lessons, buy a provisional, pass my test, purchase and insure a car - just not able to run it on a weekly basis. So if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. In turn, if my job cannot pay well enough for me to run a car then maybe something smaller and less costly would still tick my boxes without making me live in one. Which is why I have come to the conclusion of learning how to ride a motorbike. It will be cheaper, more cost effective and essentially only lasts two-years at the end of which I have the choice to learn to drive properly or to default for another couple o' years. Its the push I think I need. I have recently in the past couple of years purchased bicycles and had rode them to and from town, now I think upgrading slightly to a motor vehicle with a licence plate rather than a basket on the front will make me more road savvy, attentive and cautious. I think that when I do come to finally sit my driving test I will be both knowledgeable about the roads as well as forgiving to other road users, including motorcyclists. 

I plan to start saving soon and will start working at the call centre for a few weeks in order to fund it. Hopefully in the space of six-weeks or so I will be on the road, albeit with my 'L' plates still in tact but nevertheless free from the painful waiting at train platforms and bus stops. Ever the "Bus Wanker" ... I think not!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx