Another Chapter Done ...

Hey Hey, 

What a week. Could I cram any more in? Me thinks not. But I will sure as hell give it a good go this week as well. I should probably explain myself really shouldn't I?

At Lunch last Monday, discussion turned to how rough I looked leaving the Friday beforehand, all in haste with a cup under my chin to catch any vomit and a taxi-cab awaiting me I was certainly far from feeling my perky self. Still not feeling great I knew I would have to come back to work at some point, and there is only so much lolling around on the couch that one can do when ill. So there I was, in the canteen I had come to know and love. A real home from home. I had encountered my first flings with Mr. Warehouse in that room, a few near arguments with others and even a rare heart to heart with Mr. CWG. 

But now my conversations with Mr. CWG were more job related and as such were directed at a position that had become available literally across the road from our Depot in Kempston. You see, Mr. CWG drinks with the owner of the establishment in his Local in Marston Mortaine, and just so happened to mention that they were recruiting for a position similar to what I am doing now as a Service Desk Coordinator for a security and alarms company. Taking the opportunity, I called the offices and asked for some more details. Twenty-minutes or so later I had sent over my CV and by the end of the day they had asked me to come in for a chat after work. Not expecting this at all I trundled over the road after finishing work, hoping no-one from my office would notice and enquire as to where I was going. Thinking it was just a chat I hadn't braced myself for a full blown interview in the offices. I aced it, and despite my deepest apologies for being still slightly infected and wearing Black Button UGG Boots to an interview I didn't know was an interview, less than forty-eight-hours later they offered me the job. 

Dumbfounded I just stared at my screen on Wednesday afternoon, unable to speak. What had I done!? Suddenly I felt my legs become jelly and my stomach drop out of my belly. Was I about to do this? Looking through the contract they had sent over I quickly worked out that the salary would mean I would be better off by about seventy British pounds every month. "But was that enough? Was it worth it? Was it really deserving of leaving all of this behind?" I thought to myself. Immediately I called Mr. Warehouse and as soon as he answered he said what I wanted to tell him. It was like he could read my mind or something. Weirdo! However the boyfriend was less than useful when it came to discussing what I was going to do and how my options now looked. My dearest Mr. Warehouse is not one for talking things through and would have probably rather me just drop it in conversation along the lines of "So this weekend we are doing this and that weekend were somewhere else and Oh I got a new job and did you know were fresh out of Ketchup?"

Confused I called my Dad that night, hoping I might be able to get some more sense from him. Slightly better than Mr. Warehouse, my Dad was positive and I took away from our conversation that no matter how much I had been belittled, patronised and scrutinised throughout the last few months - I still had it. Although ever the realist Dad proposed the facts that I needed to really consider. What happens if I get sacked? What happens if I don't like it? What happens if I can't do it? All these things running through my head, coupled with the mere fact that seventy-quid is not a lot of money to leave a permanent job role I have been cushy in for over two-and-a-half-years I was seriously frazzled. But my early night made no impact on how I felt and whilst the morning always brings with it a new light to see something in, I was severely tired and needed to start thinking quickly about what my decision would be. 

Speaking with yet more close friends and family including Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat (yet another close work colleague I have yet to introduce you all too), the reoccurring subject line was that whilst the money was not great in terms of moving, seventy-pounds a month extra was still an extra seventy-pounds a month I didn't have last week and wont have next week. The thesis was that if I was unable to progress where I was in earning more money or more responsibility to be taken more seriously then it should be time to move. I had been considering it for a long while and with the current situation I found myself in I couldn't think of a better time to make the leap. 

Besides I had always said to myself there was never any point in learning to drive whilst I was at my old job, simply because affording a car and living alone, or even with someone would be a stretch if not impossible to do. I enjoyed my luxuries too much and I suppose with this new move I can not only afford the lifestyle I love so much, but also keep up with a car as well. The opportunities are endless and as Miss Sugarcoat put it herself - I am full worth the twenty-four-plus annual salary I am asking for, but it would seem a little odd to go form earning just under eighteen to another five-thousand-pounds a year in one jump. I need to make baby steps and work my way up to a salary I can not only live comfortably and happily on, but also a salary I can start to build a future on, a family and a home life. 

But on the other hand it will be ever so devastating when I do go. As I said at the top of this weeks post, its my home from home. So much has changed since I walked through those doors in April 2013. It was where I saw out my last days with Mr. Cheese (so glad you could make it, long time no see), went on to have some awful dates including Mr. Rockclimber, Mr. Krusty and countless other Mr's that didn't make the grade. Mere months into my probation period I met Mr. Warehouse and from then onwards spent many, many a dark rainy night cuddling in the canteen, away from the prying eyes of his family whom he worked alongside. Our love blossomed in those walls, out from the tea stained floors and breeze block walls came something that I now cherish so deep. Not only that but I have all my work family there and all the wonderful people that I see sometimes not for weeks or months at a time but all in the knowledge that I honestly love them all. Crazy cousins from sales, my office sharing sisters-from-other-misters, weird uncles from other divisions and even my embarrassing office Dad and Grandad. 

I will miss everyone so, so much. Miss Sugarcoat and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy all but to name only a few. Some of whom I never spoke about on my Blog and others I am glad frankly to see the back of. My engineers whom I deal with on a daily basis, calling up and handing out jobs, asking how the wife and the kids are, sending out Birthday and Christmas cards, sending treats at Easter and Christmas also, all in which I have got to know so very, very well. Even my sales reps, who annoy the fucks out of me on an almost weekly basis, some more than others of course. Again I have wheedled my way into their lives as they have with mine, sharing in every detail of their holidays, families and moments, good and bad. All of them will be missed though, for we are a little family, a unit and a force to be reckoned with on a night out! Speaking of which ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

I'm Getting Old

Good Evening,

So today I went to a funeral. It was not someone I knew terribly well but it was someone I had shared several happy memories with. But as I sat there, dry eyed and holding on tightly to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's hand tightly watching everyone around me fall to pieces as we all watched a silent and still coffin, I felt myself grow a little older. Gone are the days now of drinking in the park and mucking around at school. Today I think I faced the fact that whilst I am still young, I am not getting any younger. 

Growing up is tough, but I think one of the toughest things is seeing those around you slowly disappear. I once asked my Nana as a young child what the worst part of getting older is and she explained simply that as we grow older, the more often we have to go into the wardrobe and reach out for that Little Black Dress, each time getting quicker and quicker in concession. 

You see as we all progress in the journey of life we realise that faces change, as do people and their personalities. Some change for the better and some not so much. You yourself as you get older and maybe wiser will change too. And again, some change for the better and some not so much. People will come and go from life as changing as the seasons. Some of the characters you will meet along the road may break your heart and will be the ones that got away. I know Mr. Workaholic is for me. But then I look at the situation I found myself in back in Northamptonshire when I was in my happy little blissful bubble with him. I was twenty and more than happy to settle down with an itchy finger and an empty spare room I needed to fill. Looking back now, albeit through rose tinted glasses, I now know it was not where my life was designed to go and if given a second chance again to give it another shot, I am almost certain now I would decline. Since Mr. Workaholic I have had many a dating disaster including Mr. Carrots, Mr. Coffee and Mr. Sick - Although I am hardly sure you can call that one a date?! Not all of them were awful though. For example I have met wonderful people like Mr. Cheese, Mr. Coffee and even a stint with a couple of lustful lovers over Tinder. But none of them being that all-illusive 'One'.

You will have noticed that Mr. Warehouse has been excluded from the above. Now this does not mean we are getting married (Step away from the facinator!) but nor does it mean that he is another frog in my quest for a Prince Charming. It merely means that for the first time in a while I am beginning to accept that this may be 'it' - Whatever 'it' is?! And after only six-months or so into our relationship it's hard to say if Mr. Warehouse is my one and only. When you have had something so perfectly perfect before it is hard not to compare your feelings this time around to that of how you felt last time you were truly, madly,deeply in love. But I know now that it wasn't perfect as I once thought.

In the long run I honestly don't think Mr. Workaholic and I would have ever worked out. We were not wholly compatible - But then again who is? He never ate vegetables and all that graced his plate was beige this and beige that. Living on chicken dinosaurs and Carbonara flushed down with Redbull was not a healthy or sustainable diet. How was I meant to raise children around a father who ate about as much greens as a breeze block? And whilst we had a laugh and fooled around a lot with minimal arguing, there were some things in life that are just not meant to be. I am in a much better place right now than I ever was with Mr. Workaholic. I am somewhere whereby I don't have to rely on someone else or their income. I depend on me and only me. I pay my own rent, my own bills (Lets not talk about British Gas!) and afford my own things. On the other hand, Mr. Cheese in his own right was wonderfully charming, good looking and very affluent with friends and family in all the right places, but lacked basic skills in the bedroom as well as the "fun and frivolous" department. I could never really be my true self around him, only a segment of me. I knew both at the time and now that if I had continued any longer I would have definitely been settling for something, never to be completely satisfied. 

Whilst the intellectual conversation surrounding politics, literature and other current affairs was there with Mr. Workaholic and Mr. Cheese I was lacking in other areas and although I am not stating that for a second Mr. Warehouse tick's every box, he does try and that is worth more than anything I could ever ask for. Today and the past week or so has really opened my eyes to the world a little and in a way I have come to the conclusion that one day it will be my funeral, and someone will be standing up there on the pew reading out my life story. I want to know that I will have lived life to the fullest and trying not to regret or dwell on what could have been, only looking forward in anticipation for what is to come. And so I end this weeks blog post in a somewhat thoughtful and reflective mood, leaving to ponder the possibilities that tomorrow will bring. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Shitty Stick!

Afternoon All, 

So after last weeks slight rant over religion and the tales of God and his holy tales of Easter, this week has been slightly more back to norm. Settling fully back into work and life after returning from Las Vegas and the Easter break I decided to get back in contact with some old Pals from my crazy days as a student in college. 

Dropping a few texts, a couple of WhatsApp messages and a few short hours later I was not only on time, but early to meet my dear friend Miss Chocolate. As I sipped on a Martini Espresso topped with some sort of creamy loveliness I noted all my office and life stresses melting away, thinking about how much my friend had changed in the months that we had not spoken. 

Flicking through a magazine, noting all the different trends for Spring/Summer'15 and wondering where I shall be holidaying this year I was tapped on the shoulder by a familiar face, that of Miss Chocolate's. Miss Tatt's was meant to be joining us but I think had to work late so send her best wishes and recommended the menu. As we were seated for our table at TGI Friday's we both couldn't contain our excitement, twittering on about life as we both knew it and of all the things that had happened over the past year or so. First of all there was the explanation about how fabulous Vegas was and secondly was the long, interesting and the somewhat repeated tale of my latest boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse. 

You see it's not that I don't like telling people how Mr. Warehouse and I met, I do (Besides "met at work" sounds a lot better than "met on Tinder") its just sometimes I wonder, and I am sure that Miss Chocolate and the Tweedles will vouch for me when I say this - I have never really been single. Not properly anyhow. All I seem to do is skip from one relationship to another. I mean it went from being in school where I had nobody interested in dating me to suddenly not being able to shake them off. It all started with the lovely and sweet Mr. Ginge in Sixth Form. Within a year, then along came along the heartbreakingly perfect Mr. Workaholic. After a couple of months it was the intermediate episode with Mr. Coffee. Six-months later, along came the tragically lost Mr. Cheese and exactly forty-eight hours after ending things with Mr. Cheese I finally came up to speed with the wonderfully simple Mr. Warehouse. Yes, I can safely say I don't think I have been single for more than a few months. What can I say, beating them off with a shitty stick! I think I am very bi-polar in my relationships with men and how I acted at school has pretty much replicated itself in life as a fully fledged adult, falling in love easily and getting my heart broken even easier. 

But as I sat talking away to Miss Chocolate about my new-ish addition to my life as a twenty-something I watched as she tried to twist the story making smiles and asking questions about whether he is the one or not? Babies? Or not? Four-bed detached house in Surrey somewhere with white picket fencing, a red Volvo and a Labrador called Fifi? Or not? this round of question and answer always is the same from Miss Chocolate, maybe because she knows how important it is, or maybe because she has not had a one-hundred-percent definitive answer from me since 2010 when she asked me the same interview-esk questions about Mr. Workaholic. My reaction however is always the same since then too. I have never been true to myself in saying that this probably wont work out. There is always a maybe or a hopefully. Never a certified "Yes". 

I think that Miss Chocolate is much like me, in anticipation for the day again where we will both have that conversation and once more I will be safe in the knowledge that there is a good chance my current boyfriend is going to be my husband. Maybe my search stops with Mr. Warehouse, or maybe it carries on and he becomes another Mister in a long parade of failed relationships. Who knows?

As our conversation progressed we chatted about work, friends, family, college days and future crazy nights out to come. And as I boarded the night bus back home I hoped that the night out we had planned for a few weeks time would come about as I was, and still am in a severe need for a good old messy night out with some banging banter, popping tunes and a dance-floor that has been freshly polished. Oh and a pole - Always need a pole!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Two's Company, Six is a Gatecrash!

Hey there one and all, 

So last week I explained away my review of a little known film called 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. This week however I turned Fifty Shades of Pink when I had a Déjà vu momento in which I was whisked back to an occasion I thought could never be written let alone happen twice, That Christmas Eve in 2012 - Merry ExMas! 

Awaiting my uncle outside a familiar Italian Ristorante in Bedford I pondered as to his whereabouts. It was never like him to be late, and for that fact it was never like me to be early for something. My phone bleeped with message telling me to go inside and get a nice big glass of wine ordered, instead of standing outside freezing whilst my Uncle was stuck in rush-hour traffic. 

Seating myself at the table it crossed my mind that this restaurant held fond memories of eating dinner across from a bearded and the childlike innocence of Mr. Cheese. Ahh yes. Long gone are the days of blue eyes and goofy smiles. I waded happily in my thoughts until my dinner date arrived. We sat, ordered bread and olives and yet more wine. Happy in my Uncle's company I was glad to have seen him before I went to Las Vegas. Albeit a small holiday it was still going to be the longest I have travelled, but I felt it and will be the start of an even bigger adventure into the world, as yet unexplored by Moi. 

As our Thursday night ensued we ordered our dinner and passed the time with conversations of work and family. Until that is I saw the flashes of a bright, post-box red jacket. "Oooh that's a nice winter coat I thought" I thought to myself. But just as I wondered where the owner had bought it from my ears caught the distinct sound of a voice I knew. "Surely not! It cant be! Its a Thursday evening for crying out loud?!" I thought, beginning to internally flap. But yes, it was. And as the women turned to be shown to her table I already knew who it was. Momma Cheese! As the seconds dragged I thought, hoped even, that she would be here with friends or someone else. "Not him, please, anyone but him!" No sooner had I thought those things I was suddenly thrust into a world long forgotten. Momma Cheese embraced me, soon followed by a warming hug from Baby Cheese, Mr. Cheese's youngest Brother. Mr. Cheese himself however could only muster up a short and stout "Hi". After the introductions you could tell we all felt awkward especially given the fact my Uncle had never met any of these people. Nevertheless, my ex-boyfriend and his family, now including Pappa Cheese were sat on the table next to us, so close in fact that if I put my arm out I probably would have had it round Mr. Cheese's shoulders. 

As dinner continued I listened intently to their conversation, desperate to be in two places listening fully at once. But as with anything like this - As if I am some sort of expert, of which incidentally I probably am now this has happened a second time - It was always going to be weird. Whether we met in the cereal aisle at Waitrose doing our weekly shop or in a hot and sweaty club with sticky, vodka and Redbull laced floors it was always going to be odd to say the least. Difference in as I found myself dipping in and out of their family dinner and subsequent conversations that came with it I realised that whilst I miss the intellectual conversation surrounding politics, current affairs and other matters of topical interest I certainly do not miss the way I felt when I was with (and without) my lover, Mr. Cheese.

I struggled with my Uncle to tell of anecdotes I had endured with Mr. Cheese for he was mere centimetres from me and would probably be able to retell every accountable detail in such tale not to mention fully vouch for the moments themselves. Looking back through our year together I see it through rose-tinted spectacles; The long hot summers days, lunches out, parties and social occasions not to mention the wonderful weekends in the Capital spent parading shops and eateries in West London and exploring the Chiswick High Road together in blissful harmony together. Fond memories of naughty emails and snuggles watching animal documentaries before bed. Mmm, Sunny days were they. But once the sun was gone there were clouds and storms in the skies that whilst simple to forecast were not so easily saved with an umbrella or raincoat. 

As the Cheeses' family meal ended, my Uncle and I sipped on strong Italian Coffee. Watching them dress in coats and winter attire I stood to be greeted and was again embraced by all members of the family. All bar one. Mr. Cheese himself had sprung from the table as soon as the bill was paid and dashed straight for the exit. Anyone would have thought I had the Plague or something. Not so much as a goodbye or see you soon. Nothing. As I said farewell to his family a little part of me was saddened I could not go home with them or that Mr. Cheese would not be joining me back in my flat tonight. It was then that I realised I was much better off without Mr. Cheese. Sure he was somewhat well off and his family affluent to the highest degrees I have ever come into contact with but it was not for me. The incessant need to have a cup of tea every four hours. The compulsion of vegetables and fruit at every meal. The absoluteness of getting a good nights sleep every night. And the lack of partying like a proper posh person slowly would have ground me down. I enjoyed his company most of the time yes and in terms of friends I think we would have been great, but as more than that I doubt it. I knew from the start that Mr. Cheese wasn't 'The One' and so I didn't pin too much on him, well at least I thought I hadn't. 

I had a relationship with this man, a sexual relationship (albeit not a very good one but regardless a sex life of sorts) and yet still he could not face up to me and be gracious. Gentlemanly and courteous he was not. Ignorant and ill-mannered he was. For someone brought up well from a pleasing family background and a good moral standing I would have thought more from him. I could have understood it if I had been the one doing the dumping; But it was I whom was the Dumpee in all of this. If anyone was going to have a diva moment and walk out it should have been me. But as I conversed with my agony aunties - Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee later on after live tweeting and messaging them throughout said gatecrash; Maybe he just wasn't over me!? Maybe the sight of seeing you, so unexpectedly and so well turned out after the split made him regret his choices and wonder what life could have been like. And to an extent I probably agree, I mean come on! Maybe I am the Mount Kilimanjaro of women. Easy to climb onto, but hard to get over!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

L'amour est dans l'air!

Morning everybody, 

Much love to one and all this week as Valentines day sent the women into a mushy mess because their four year old made them a card and men into a panicked frenzy at the local petrol station for lack of Chrysanthemum's. Yes I, as I am sure you know by now, am not one for spending an entire day showering others with love. I prefer to give them a little bit every day instead. But that didn't stop me and the Bae, Mr. Warehouse heading to the Big Smoke for some much needed QT!

Arriving at work Friday excited and anticipating the weekend ahead I soon realised that time was dragging. Finally though the clock struck three and with my trusty partner in crime I left my desk (including several piles of papers) and headed to the station. Boarding a packed train we made quiet small talk as we people watched men on laptops and couples clearly heading for the Eurostar. Jealous ... You betcha I was! "One Day" I thought "One Day I will finally go to Paris, even if I do go it alone." 

Arriving into St. Pancras International, Mr. Warehouse and I hopped straight for the tubes and over to Soho for some dinner before heading back to our hotel room, for which we weren't holding out much hope. Drizzling and wet, London was lacking the glory and romance I had wished but as we settled after our meal I wasn't quiet ready to slip under the duvet just yet. Pouring with rain Mr. Warehouse and I navigated ourselves back to a bar we had seen earlier, Adventure Bar, and as I wrestled to the bar and ordered some cocktails I knew that this was probably one of the best spontaneous ideas I had ever had! Music coursing through the underground club and bodies everywhere we turned I watched Mr. Warehouse as he sipped his first cocktail called Bramble, a concoction of several spirits, fizzy champagne and soda over slippery glass-like ice cubes. Only being seven-thirty I was surprised it was so busy but was happy with the scene and only wished I had packed a pair of heels and a sexier top. Moments later that mood was somewhat destroyed when Justin Bieber came squeaking over the speakers. Yes, it was time to leave. So as I polished off my second cocktail I slipped the drinking vessel very sneakily into my handbag. Oh how I love a large tote. And oh how I love my new Martini Glass. But as my dearest love put it the other day "If you don't drink Martini's or even cocktails at home for that fact, why have you commandeered one?" Alas he is not the sharpest of tools in the box, but he knows not to question me when it comes to anything of alcoholic content. 

Walking through the streets of Soho and Piccadilly I soon made the grave understanding of mine and Mr. Warehouse's journey back to the 'Hotel'. CityMapper explained that the quickest route to our Shepherds Bush accommodation was via the District line alighting at Stamford Brook, a station I am sure you are all well established in the knowledge that this was where the late Mr. Cheese used to live and his fit flatmate also. Nevertheless I tried to control my talk of years gone by and focused on the here and now with my wonderful if a little broke Mr. Warehouse. As Mr. Warehouse and I were informed of our final destination arriving soon we geared ourselves up for disaster. 
"So is this the point in which you tell me that in actual fact we have a really nice double bedroom in a posh Chiswick hotel with views of the city" Mr. Warehouse asked, worried. And I wished that was the case. I had booked the room a few days in advance with the total coming to £34.00 for the both of us for one night. Being a twenty-minute walk from any tube line I expected the worst and when I discovered it was more of a studio flat than a hotel room I had booked, all did not seem well. 
"At least it will be a giggle when we tell everyone at work?!" I said as we turned into the street. Deep, pungent smells of cannabis filled our throats as we struggled to find number fifty-seven. And as the houses became more tightly packed, gardens less blooming and exteriors ever increasingly daunting the prospect that this was a good idea was fading fast. 

We were greeted at the door by a gentleman and shown to our room come studio. We both held hands and took a deep breath as he placed the key in the lock. But as he opened the door we both breathed a sigh of relief as the room, while not the most spacious was certainly large enough for what we needed. A under the counter fridge, kettle (with no tea or coffee) and a microwave complimented the wardrobe and super comfy double bed. A large walk in shower in a newly fitted bathroom inclusive of toilet and a stunning white, square butler sink. I was more than happy to sign away the paperwork and check-in. 

Closing the door on the way out we giggled like school children as we bounced on the bed and explored our new surroundings. Feeling like virgins again we took mere minutes to test out the bed, but not before locking that front door - Don't want any more Australians walking on in now do we?!

As morning broke over London and Valentines day began we started our morning as every couple should, and in the best way. Morning Sex! Twice I think in the end. Rolling over though in a heated embrace we discussed our plans for the day and eventually decided on a visit to London Zoo. And after a much needed shower, Mr. Warehouse and I popped out for Breakfast at an old haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's; Carluccios. Taking a leisurely stroll back to the tube and making our way over to the Zoo we took in the sights and scenes of the city and discussed what it would be like to live somewhere such as Fulham and the likes the leafy, laid-back suburbs of London; all with their white picket fences, fancy cars and four storey houses.

No sooner had we arrived through the gates of London Zoo though I was greeted by a small child. Yes. My Valentine, Mr. Warehouse, had turned into an excited six-year-old and all at the sight of a guide book and a cast iron Gorilla. "Today is going to be entertaining" I thought to myself as we joined hands and entered the wondrous world of animals great and small. We scared each other in the creepy crawlies and reptile house. We held hands and pointed in the Monkey enclosures. We even managed to have a cheeky little kiss in the Aquarium. Exhausted and being hoofed out the Zoo at closing time we walked through colourful houses and lanes to Camden where we were due to have a table already booked, ready and waiting for us. Anticipating a quick bite to eat and getting the train back to my cosy flat in Bedford ready for cuddles on the couch just in time Saturday night TV. Alas after more than thirty-minutes and no table reservation we were not happy. Seating a frustrated and tired 'Pooh Bear' (My pet name for Mr. Warehouse. I am his Piglet) I go off to angrily speak to the staff and after a word with management I was able to get our dinner sorted, although this did mean having to share our table with another couple and also it being another forty minute before food actually arrived. 

Nevertheless it was a lovely Valentines, so much so Mr. Warehouse and I were even given a blessing by a Black man preaching about god and his holy ways on the way back to Kings Cross through Camden's Alternative scene. Suffice to say that this weekend was heavenly!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Spreading My Wings

Morning one and all, 

So the past couple of weeks have been hectic and in all honesty I know that the next few up until I leave for the States are going to be even more-so. But as life passes by in a haze, blurring one day into the next and weeks into months I wonder to myself when I have a moment from the manic madness that surrounds my desk and wonder what I want from life. 

Consulting my head I know that my long-term prospects are to find a man, settle down, move in, get a dog, get engaged, become someones wife and bear children then spend the next eighteen-plus years of my life occupied by baby vomit, what Sarah said at the school gates last Friday and why Dairylea Triangles only come in packs of six. And that is all whilst trying to hold down a job, house, bills and keep my husband relatively happy with the weekly blowjob, despite me having to wait ages for him to return the favour. Ahh yes, how I cannot wait for life to start with me being the head of my family. 

But something has struck me the past few months, and that is the fact that I am twenty-three. I still have lots and lots and lots (and lots more) living to do before that happens. Your twenties are meant to be the throwaway years. The ones that you spend travelling through Cambodia with some random hippie called 'Russell' whom of which you have a passionate love-life despite it not being a permanent fixture. The years you spend drinking away your hard-earned cash and sleeping with less than affluent village idiots where you have a better relationship with your duvet than with your mom or dad. 

Yes, I have thought for a long time about what I want out of life and what with being twenty-six days and counting into the New Year there is no time like the present to make some changes in order to better myself, my horizons, love-life and experiences making me an all-round better person and someone who will be able to grow some more delectable tales to tell. When I finally put down the bottle of Sambuca and turn off the disco lights in my late twenties I want to be prepared with stories of the years when I was acting-adult. I want to have dinner parties with new friends and go to mother and baby groups where we can chat about all sorts of life lessons and anecdotes that would help us through the sleepless nights and mash-throwing contests of our children. 

While Mr. Cheese was not the best kind of person in all regards, least his bedroom ability to keep up with my libido, he did awaken a fire within me to get out into the world and see things. When Ghana-gate was first announced I always thought I would like the idea of just going somewhere for several months and travelling, working, learning and having fun all at the same time. Maybe I would make some new friends or even meet that all-illusive 'The One'. Africa. Asia. Australia. The Americas. All are so rich with sites and scenery I am struggling which to do and where to go. Mr. Warehouse? I don't think or even know if he is the travelling type. He is such a home-bird I think it would be too much to fly away for months at a time with no sense of where we are going and what we are doing. I don't honestly think he is cut out for it, let alone us as a couple?! Besides I think I would enjoy it more and I may get more out of it if I was on my own. Anyway, you can only fit one person on an elephant at once!

I have however settled with this year exploring a little closer to home. Europe will be my big hitter this year and I may consider taking a good two weeks in order to go travelling around it, accompanied by as many weekends away as I can cram in. Denmark, Switzerland, France, Italy, Poland and Austria are all top of my list including fascinating cities like Prague, Budapest, Berlin and others slightly closer to home like Dublin, Belfast and Edinburgh. I would like to say that every bank holiday apart from the end of May (being Miss Tweedle-Dumb's birthday which I would be crazy to miss) and Christmas/New Years I would like to get away somewhere. Although with the first Bank Holiday of the Year looming just a fortnight after flying back from Las Vegas I will have little time to hatch a plan of action. I was thinking of maybe even packing a bag and heading straight to the airport to pick up a cheap flight anywhere and just going for a mad spontaneous binge getaway. 

However in order to do this I must take action. I must be proactive in my search for adventure with the view to seek out fun and delve into the unknown. You see, after Mr. Workaholic left I was completely empty. I had no purpose in life and nothing to get up for in the morning but to go to work, with the odd occasion of escaping wretched Northampton to come back home and get drunk with friends just to take the pain away from the heartbreak. Slowly I have come round to the idea that I need to explore, not only myself but others and new things. I feel that I am now, partly because of Mr. Workaholic, that I am a commitment-phobe, megalomaniac who gets bored very easily. 

Maybe this is another one of my Quarterly-Life-Crisis', but of late my toes have been chillier than ever, although they are now starting to thaw out after someone surprised me with just some simple affections and kind gestures. Sometimes you can be so wrapped up in something or an idea about what you want to do, that you loose sight of just how good you have got it. Things in my head recently have become clouded and as a result I have felt trapped and in need of escape, which probably explains the thoughts of travelling and exploration I have day-dreamt about at my desk. There is only one way out from the situation I find myself, and I know, from experience, it will not be pretty or easy but it is something that may well have to be done. When or even if is another kettle of Koi Carp. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Like Waiting For A Bus ...

Evening everybody, 

Hope all is well in the land of wherever you be reading, fine fellows. Here in Blightly as some of you may have noticed is fucking freezing. Quite literally - It was snowing here in the 'Shire. Which is why I now in my toasty little flat with a blanket draped over my legs. Yes. I am naked as I write and as brutally honest I could be much more honest with you all on some of my most recent feelings, but I shall not dwell on them before I have to. All in good time. Instead I thought I may share some warmth with you and try my hand at some erotic fiction. Now I must warn you that this is maybe not for the faint hearted and nor should you be reading whilst your Boss is in the same room, besides shouldn't you be managing an Excel Spreadsheet or drafting up a letter. For this is something special, a personal experience, and one that I will never forget - All I can say is ... FINALLY!
Enjoy!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

---

It was a cold and blustery evening in late December when the young, blonde and her current partner, were lying on a pull out sofa-bed, watching junk TV and scoffing even junkier food. After hours of relaxing and laughing in each others company the mood suddenly changed. With the mind racing (and somehow playing Barry White at the same time), she experienced her lovers hot kisses, leaving light wet stains down her pale neck as he trailed down her warm body. In vain, she tried to keep her breathing slow and steady whilst allowing  her spirit to be taken over. Hearts starting to skip, beating harder and faster making the young women breathe heavier as he went even lower. As he cups her supple breasts in each hand she whispers for him to take her nipples to his lips and begin to nibble and suck lightly making her moan softly, throw her head back in pleasure, long, blonde hair tumbling over the both of them, cascading down her voluptuous body. 

"I can feel myself getting wetter with every kiss you place on my smooth skin" she says as he tugs on her chest once more, swiftly making her convulse with pleasure. Slowly his hands start to run across her warm stomach and down to the hips where he holds them tightly, pressing his palms into her pelvis to stopping her body writhing from the pleasure. 

"Its too much. I need you. Now." she pants in his ear. "Take me" she says in deep, hushed tones. Breathing heavy and kissing passionately he grasps her neck and face in his manly hands, tugging playfully on her long locks and she knows to return the favour running her deft fingers through his hair. Holding the nape of her neck as he kisses her - Long, passionate, meaningful kisses. This is making the tension between them harder to resist. 
Slowly she trails her hands to his crotch, playing with the waistband, teasing making him feel the pressure as much she is. Inch by inch she gradually makes it into his tight underwear. Feeling him throbbing in her soft hands she moves him up and down, pacing them both until their breathing gets to the same speed. Feeling him succumb to her charms was exhilarating and knowing this just by looking into his eyes and hearing him groan, she moves faster until he cant take it no more. Releasing himself she ran her fingers along his silky shaft whilst he kissed and bit at her décolletage. 

Grabbing at her waist, he shifted her so she was finally underneath him, revealing the silken bedsheets swaddling the make-shift bed. Looking into each others eyes lust takes hold and suddenly they are pulling at each others clothes violently trying to get them off as quickly as possible, sensually making-out as they undressed. As she ruffles her fingers through his hair, he moves south and in the knowledge of how moist she was, he tugs off her underwear. Finally he bury's his head between her strong, toned thighs and with a strong hold on her pelvis begins to taste her, as hot as the tension between them. She could feel herself getting higher. He could feel it too as they entwine their fingers, steadily climbing to the peak. Again it gets too much for her to handle and just before she climaxes he stops and join's her in the Northern-hemisphere. 

As he clutches something long and pink, bought by someone old, he smiles knowing just what an impact this joyous stick will provide. Smiling he slowly caresses her lower body with the vibrations, holding it close to her making it even more intense and highly-strung than before. She was so sensitive. So moist. So ready. He can tell just how amazing this feels for her and getting more and more excited himself he continues to stimulate her Nether-Region. Harder he presses. Faster he moves. Deeper he thrusts into her and higher she climbs. Oh god. More! More! Please! She begged him to pull her in closer and hold her as she climaxed. Getting hotter she felt the waves she had read about and heard tales of so many times as her and her friends sat around at dinner discussing it. Rolling waves of heat and chill soon enough lead her to the peak. Eye rolling, back arched, body uncontrollably shaking and quivering with excitement she came, her world crashing around her in a spectacular first ever orgasm. He wasn't about to give up though and getting off himself in this torturous pleasure-game as mere seconds later it was in another blazing glory that she climaxed again, coming a second and a third time.  

In the moments that followed he wanted her for himself and as they spend moments staring into each others eyes, all she wants is to feel him inside her, getting deeper and harder. She does not have long to wait as he teases his way into her, prizing her legs apart and squeezing her waist as he enters slowly. Gasping as she feels him stretching her and letting out a little moan he starts to get harder, tensing his manhood as he thrusts into her once more making her cry out in pleasure. She knew by his contorted face that he was not far behind and as she tightened herself around him. She could feel him. All of him. As she whispered breathlessly sweet nothings into his ear and softly bit the earlobes of her partner, he held down her hips, his grip getting harder he let out the longest, deepest, animalistic groan she had ever heard. She felt the shudders from his core as he groaned once more, finishing deep and hard. 

Exhausted he collapses, snuggling his head into her breasts. There they lye for a while as she plays with his face until he pulls her into his chest where they fall asleep in each others arms, both of them blissfully unaware of the world outside and just how different it is, now she has experienced her first orgasm that is!

Walking in a Winter Wonderland!

Morning guys and gals, 

So as I am sure you can all guess by the title this week I have officially started my countdown to Christmas 2014, although I am pretty sure that started back in September when I began buying presents for everyone. And so as the pennies and pounds start dribbling fast out of my bank account on stocking fillers and the extra bottles of plonk for the big day I am getting increasingly more and more excited. This weekend however, I spent some Q.T with that big bear in my life, Mr. Warehouse but I am pleased to say that whilst we are officially now dating (Eeek, scary) I am wholly devoted to my girls, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee. 

Saturday morning I was roused by something hard digging into my spine. Slowly coming round to the winter sun streaming through my window and the chilliness that lay on the other side of the duvet I realised that I hadn't fallen asleep with my back against Pinocchio's face, it was just my Boyfriend! Oh dear lord its even weird writing let alone saying it! And with a swift burst of energy I was wide awake and heavenly satisfied once more. With both of us out on prior engagements we decided pillow talk was best kept short and sweet so I slung on my Christmas jumper and a brand new pair of super tight skinnies and headed for the kettle. 

Monging around for a few hours before we both had to leave, Mr. Warehouse was like a puppy following me around and feeling sorry for himself that we wouldn't be spending the day together. I stood my ground though and whilst I felt bad that I wouldn't be able to celebrate at one of his many family events I had my own family to attend to. Boarding a train I sipped on my iced-coffee from AMT called a 'Froffee' and it is literally to die for, Pret do something similar and again I would easily kill for one! Anyway, as the train pulled up to the station I once called home I saw my friends faces eagerly anticipating my arrival. As I got off and ushered them all to get on and grab a seat I was introduced to some familiar sounding names and a couple of familiar faces. Chatting as we raced down to London I could tell we were all excited for our day out in the big smoke. On the agenda was dinner at TGI Fridays in Leicester Square and then to head on over to Hyde Park for what seems to be now for me an annual trip to Winter Wonderland. 

As we stormed into London I felt an almost overwhelming sense of anxiousness take me over. I hadn't been back here since Mr. Cheese and I was worried about how I would feel now being back. I wasn't to worry though as I think the Tweedle's sensed something may be amiss. As we disembarked the train and headed out of St. Pancras Station I felt everyone surround me and whilst I know it sounds stupid I felt supported and happy to have them there. I honestly don't know how I would have felt or reacted on my own or with anyone else for that matter. The fact that I was on the brink of wetting myself probably helped with taking my mind off things but as we walked past my beloved Starbucks I couldn't help but think of the moment back in February when Mr. Cheese and I parted. 

Toilet stops done and out the way we headed for the Tubes. Feeling like I was somewhat at home again I strategically guided us through the mixture of tourists and weekend workers to Leicester Square. Looking around and seeing the sights I was once so familiar with we all gazed around in wonder like children as we conversed, waiting for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's other half to arrive in from Berkshire. Once all eight of us were together we headed on up to the spectacular M&M World, right in the heart of the Strip. Even before we walked in you could smell the sweet, creamy chocolatey flavours just wafting through the air. As we elbowed our way through the crowds and looked at overpriced merchandise all of us came to realise that this was a pure novelty and no expense was going to be made by this Octo-gang today! And after a disappointment with TGI's not having a table for eight available we ended up going to Chiquitos instead. Not as good as the independent Mexican Mr. Cheese took me to in Victoria but alright I guess for a quick and easy dinner with the odd game of 'Chinese Whispers'. That was until the restaurant royally fucked up the bill more than twice. In the end I think we had all had enough of the stupid flavoured popcorn and overly priced cocktails and left. 

Now was for the real party time! Braving the chilly November air we stepped back out into the city, heading over to the Underground once more, this time ending up at Marble Arch, albeit a rather long-winded route. Dodging some busy traffic speeding across four lanes and singing Christmas songs all the way down the Mall we finally arrived. You could see it from a distance, you always could but somehow it looked better the closer you got. One quick battery change later and I was S-elf-ie ready (see what I did there, aha!) and it wasn't long before we were all posing for funny shot with smiles on our faces and noses pink. Once we had come to terms with the magical light source the Tweedles, Boyfriend and work colleagues all followed straight to the fastest rides we could see. A blizzard thing was happening and with Miss Tweedle-Dumb squealing at the sight of synthetic, sudsy, soap-snow I knew that there was no backing down from this. We were going on that ride. 

After taking out a second mortgage to pay for the ride tokens we waited patiently whilst as Swedish Accented European spoke to us explaining about his day and the  Winter Wonderland we were enchanted with. Finally it was our turn and being front of the queue meant we had the choice of seats. Bagging ourselves a couple of blue pods, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took one pod whilst Miss JoHo and another work colleague of the Tweedles took the other. A quick snap before the ride set off and we all started screaming like children right away. Loving the atmosphere I never wanted it to end as we whizzed around and around, lights blurring as we reached new speeds. Looking over at Miss Tweedle-Dumb I squeaked in happiness and was grateful to be in her company. Faces melting into the burning bulbs I could hardly keep my eyes open as the ride got even faster. Almost at a right angle now I could see nothing but colour. Feeling nauseous I continued to scream, egging the controller on to go even faster. As the ride slowed and came to an end I literally felt exhausted and slightly queasy. I wasn't the only one for the looks on Miss Tweedle-Dumb's face as well as her work friends was equally pale but happy. 

One packet of half eaten Churros and several rides later, the Octo-Gang confirmed it was time to go home. Money spent, feet hurting and my patience running thin I just wanted to get back to my bed although habit told me that would be at least another couple of hours away, from door to door. Looking back on the glow of Hyde park as it slipped behind the sparse tree-lined avenues I wondered what next year would hold for me. Would I be returning with my friends again? Maybe with a new set of friends? Maybe with Mr. Warehouse? Maybe with another 'Mister'? Who knows. I suppose that's the beauty of life you just don't know what's around the corner or who you might meet. Although I think I speak on behalf of all eight of the Winter Wonderland Posey when I say we definitely did not want to meet this next guy. 

As we all passed through the barriers to the platform of St. Pancras Station, exhausted from our day out in the bright lights of London Town, we all noticed Miss Tweedle-Dee being chatted up by a rather intoxicated drunkard and his fat friend. It was clear that whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee knew the twosome, some ex-friends of her brother, she clearly wanted to distance herself. Trying to step in I conversed with them so as to draw their attention away from my bestie. To no avail as when the train pulled into the station we discovered we were going to be train pals. It wasn't even as if we were on the fast one, it was the late night train that stops at every station possible and as the Pisshead started to get louder and more obnoxious I could tell we were in for a very, very long journey home indeed. His rounded sidekick placed himself in a seat opposite me and we proceeded to have a rather grown-up conversation about my Christmas Jumper and his classy can of budget Marks and Spencer Lager. But as Pumbaa mellowed out and sat nicely, Timon just did not shut up. And so, after several loud phone calls including some colourful expletives, and a quiet warning from Miss Tweedle-Dumb and his plump sidekick, the Boozer still persisted in badgering Miss Tweedle-Dee. 'No wonder he was an ex-friends of her brothers' I thought. I could see something stirring in the seats across the carriage from me. She was preparing a rant. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb opened her mouth I knew that this was it, immediately hitting the record button in my head not wanting to miss a moment of this heady burst. Thinking that she was going to erupt into some sort of angry, man-eating, zombie-unicorn I took shelter in my Grazia Magazine and hoped she would make an example of the twat. The entire carriage fell silent and with the eloquent finish off phrase "Now Piss Off!" blurted from Miss Tweedle-Dumb's beautifully linguistic lips Timon and Pumbaa left to go and chat up some girls, explaining how they were security guards at the local airport. From my witnessing tonight, the pair couldn't keep their dignity secure let alone a suitcase belonging to Al-Qaeda. 

So as I sink into my pillow tonight there will be only one thing on my mind; And that is that there is only thirty-one more sleeps until the big man comes and empties his sack ... All for me!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx