Some things never change.

Good Evening, 

One week ago I sat here writing to you from my sofa, anxious in anticipation for my grandmothers funeral. I was dreading it and more than most for a multitude of reasons. Now I know that no one ever looks forward to funerals, but this one will be especially fraught with emotions, and, as with last time, the tension and anxiety will be riding high. I laugh to myself now as I write this to you, it seems that funerals, whilst are not the happiest of occasions, always seem to be dogged for me with huge anxieties and bouts of doubt and uncertainty about myself. And this time will be no different. 

As with Granddad's funeral just over two years ago now almost to the day, I recall waking up on the morning of the funeral. I could see the bright May day beaming in through the spare room window across the hallway. And just as before, I wanted to curl up in my duvet, hide away and pretend that today was not happening. Instead, I pulled myself from slumber, my Puppy for once being kinder to me this morning and not jumping on me as he normally would, affectionate little licks to gently encourage me to get up and along with the day. Isn't it funny how animals sense these things, especially so when they come and cuddle up next to you on the sofa as you write this?

As normal, or at least as normal could be I dropped Mr Warehouse at work and headed home for a strong coffee and mind-numbing telly. Soon enough though it was time to get ready. Dressing in a black long-sleeved soft jersey wrap dress, nude tights and black heels I was all set. Hair in a plaited nape bun and fascinator fixed in place I got in the car ready to go. The journey was quiet as I thought about the attendants, my mother and brother, both of whom I had not seen since the last family funeral when I first started dating Mr Warehouse. Its been five years.  

"I suppose," I thought, "on a positive note, the Coronavirus pandemic means she can't come within 2-metres of you". I smiled at the thought. Soon enough we were approaching my Hometown and as we turned into the neighbouring street of my old family home I saw the hurse pull in front of us. Mr Warehouse asked if that was Nanna, or if it could be someone else, but as the vehicle in front took a left, I was certain she was making one last visit to the church before heading home. As the car slowed coming into Nanna's house, Mr Warehouse rested his hand on my thigh and gave me a sweet and gentle squeeze. Stopping the car he motioned if I was OK. I would be, I just needed to get today over and done with, as we all did. 

I could see some familiar faces amongst the people who had come and seen her off. Neighbours, friends and family all there for one last goodbye. My eyes fell to my Nanny Pumpkin and Uncle Africa from Ireland who was now staying with my Nanny Pumpkin (don't ask, easier not to get into it). Immediately I made a beeline for them as I knew they were my safety net, there for me and my family. I spoke with Uncle Golf a little and his younger brother, my Uncle KON. I went to see how my Auntie DD was holding up and my cousin too. At only just a teenager, this was a lot to handle. I can't imagine the pain he must be going through, especially after seeing her pretty much once or twice a week since he was born. The shock of seeing a coffin in the flesh (excuse the pun, but Nanna would have appreciated it) for the first time can be overwhelming and a bit much, especially for someone so young. 

My fiance and I took him aside for a second to console him, showing him the beautiful flower arrangement I had made on behalf of the grandchildren, my brother included as he sheepishly stood in the background with my mother, too ashamed to raise his head above the parapet I expect. After speaking with Auntie DD several weeks ago, It had been suggested to do something similar to my Granddad's funeral. Obviously, I included my brother, texting him last week to let him know of the plans and if he would like to be included he was more than welcome. Of course, he never replied, and of course, I still put his name to it as he was and still is the grandson of the dearly departed, despite not showing an ounce of remorse for not showing himself in the final few months and years of her life. I only wish he could man up and just be apart of this rather than hiding in her shadow. 

As 1pm approached we all headed into our cars, out of the way of the biting cold that she [Nanna] had cast over us from Scotland. Pulling away from her home, my thoughts turned to the next part of today. At the graveside, I was going to say a few words as I had divulged in last weeks blog post. Since there was going to be no church service due to the Coronavirus outbreak (even after Boris' announcement yesterday) there was a need to pack the occasion out and make it feel more than just a box and hole situation. As expected, my poor cousin was in no fit state to say anything let alone put words together in order to form a sentence in front of everyone and so the suggestion of something lighter about our time as grandchildren with Nanna was definitely best left to her memorial ceremony and celebration hopefully in a few months time when all of this is over. 

Pulling into the Cemetary I could see my father's car which gave me great comfort to know he was here, mostly because of the "am I, aren't I" conversations we had a few times over the last few weeks. Regardless of if he came or didn't, there would be backlash either way. My father would have been ridiculed for showing his face and coming if he had turned up and equally would have been bad-mouthed had he not come to the funeral of a woman that was once your mother-in-law. My Dad, accompanied by his new wife, was there to support me and my Auntie and Uncle's as well as my brother. Standing in the background I was glad of his presence. 

Moments later, in the freezing cold with the sun shining, I read from the freshly printed pages my monologue as posted last week. It went down well. Very well in fact, my uncle passing comment about not being about to follow such a touching tribute which I thought was lovely, especially considering how much I pawed over it and fretted about its broadcast. The moments slid by as we watched her be lowered into her final resting place, next to Granda, and soon we all started to dissipate into the Cemetary. 

All was well and we bid goodbye to close family and family friends with promises of meeting again once this Lockdown had lifted Mr Warehouse and I headed for the car. Uncle Africa wanted to speak with my mother and brother, alone, and so had asked if I could take my Nanny Pumpkin home. This delayed my catch-up with Miss Tweedle-Dee, something I was going to need after all this, but I was happy to assist as I knew that some stern words would need to be had. Although just before we left, my father made a bold move by walking in their direction. Before I knew what was happening (and truth be told I still don't) I heard my mothers voice ring out across the small parking lot. 
"BACK OFF" She bellowed, screeching at my father and holding a firm hand up in protection. Of her? Of her son? Who knows. All I do know is that my father only wanted to speak with his son and offer both him and his ex-wife his condolences. 

Sadly it seems as all the years have rolled by, the anger and searing pain are still raw. My brother is still hurting and my mother is still her old self, melodramatic and over the top. I just wish that we could all be civil. Enough time has passed for us to all get over ourselves and just accept that in certain situations we need to put things like this aside. Obviously, my mother never got that memo and instead embarrassed not only herself, but also my brother, who seems to have grown just as bitter and hateful as she is. Some things never change ...  

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Death is a Lesson - It Tells Us Not To Waste Time

Afternoon Everyone, 

Several weeks in the UK is still amongst a Lockdown never seen before, even during the ware era, from the dreaded COVID-19 Coronavirus. With Boris Johnson (Britains Prime Minister) having been taken into intensive care and ICU over the last week, Downing Street is still stating a national emergency and to continue with the hundreds and continues into the thousands it is no wonder the NHS is on its knees struggling. I know this for a fact as I visited a hospital today, not as a fact-finding mission or in an effort to get a front line look at the crisis, but because someone very dear to me is very, very ill. 

A couple of weeks ago now I received a phone call from my Uncle Golf, my Mother's Brother, to let me know that my Scottish Grandmother had taken a turn for the worst and was in the hospital. Being in her eighties, I didn't really think too much of it as she was old and frail. She had been in bed ever since myself and my other Nanny Pumpkin had gone to Krakow back in Early October, and truth be told that things had not really improved since then. Good news, however, was that she had been cleared from the COVID-19 Coronavirus several times and that seemingly it was a case for pneumonia, swelling of the tissue in one or both lungs, usually caused by a bacterial infection. At the end of the breathing tubes in your lungs are clusters of tiny air sacs and if these tiny sacs become inflamed and fill up with fluid, this can lead to pneumonia. 

Every day that went by Uncle Golf would text us all a daily update on how she was getting on and the different phone calls or conversations he had with doctors and nurses looking after her. All seemed well and she was eating and drinking and getting back to normal, even talk of her being discharged. However, this morning as Mr Warehouse sat eating breakfast and contemplating doing something productive with our last day of a four-day bank holiday other than binge-watching Tiger King on Netflix, I got a phone call. It was Uncle Golf. 
"Things aren't looking good and honestly they are not going to get better from here" he began, becoming choked up as he spoke. We continued to talk as he explained that Nana just wasn't getting better and that doctors had said to prepare the family and try to make the rounds in everyone seeing her before curtain call. 

And so as 2pm rolled over on my car clock I met my Auntie, Cousin and Uncle in the hospital car park, walking in together for support. My Auntie looked tearful and tired-red eyes filled with sadness. My Uncle was quiet but strong. My cousin seemed to not really know the severity of it all, however, I am told despite being only sixteen, he knows what is happening and the likely outcome. I was half expecting my Mother to show up, but apparently her spotlight, I mean quality time, was yesterday.

Walking in the whole place seemed quiet and less busy than I would have imagined it being a bank holiday Monday, although that being said though we are amongst a national Lockdown. The ward smelt like bleach and chlorine, clean and clinical. Stepping into the sister's office I was donned in a plastic surgeon gown and face mask (even though studies show they don't make a difference when it comes to COVID-19 Coronavirus). Nana was sat in an almost biblically white room, angel-like as she lay in bed with her hair white as snow and blankets piled high. She looked comfortable. I began talking and introduced myself as if we had never met. 

Struggling to think of things to say I talked about my baby-pooch, Frankenstein whom she was quite fond of, always asking about him when I called. Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always describing them as a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. As she sat there silently and shut-eyed, I recalled the first time she met him, picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest. 

It's funny. I wrote a few months ago in the Summer of last year following a visit about how I thought, as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. And now today, as I sat by her bedside on her way out that I would. Although she looked much, much different now with her soft white curls flat and as lifeless as she seemed. I giggled at the thought of how they would wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years and all the mischief she would get up to. 

Pauses came and went as she tried to say something (I think so anyway). Deciding that she could hear me and even if she couldn't it was better than sitting in silence as I watched my Grandmother slip closer and closer to the Grim Reaper, I continued talking. I talked about Mr Warehouse and how I am still working throughout these crazy times and how in a few months hopefully when this is all blown over Mr Warehouse and the dogs are going to Cornwall on a Pre-Wedding holiday. 
"Remember the time that you came with us as a family on holiday with Mum and Dad when I was little. Really little. And I lost my bunny rabbit. Remember the brown furry one with leather padded paws?" I told her excitedly, hoping it might garner a response. Nothing. 
"Do you remember how upset I was and how I cried the whole journey home to without him. And remember how some nice person posted it back to us?" I continued, again with little to no response. 

Changing the subject I thought might help and so I spoke about my upcoming wedding that ultimately she probably won't make and how wonderful it is going to be with all the decorations and the dress and the church. It got me thinking about the story she told me of her and my Granda. I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger. 

Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him. 

Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic. 


Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish, maybe now more than ever. I thought about that warm August day last year as she sat in her rocking chair and recalled how the day went as my little fur baby fell asleep curled-up on the jazzy carpet. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be. 

Unfortunately, it was time for me to leave and as I kissed her on the forehead goodbye I told her it was OK to go now and to say hello to Granda for me (he died when I was only four-months-old). She sighed and made a slight noise, but I am almost certain she didn't know who I was or why I was there. Nevertheless, the prognosis does not look good and the outlook is bleak. How long? Nobody knows, could be hours, could be weeks or it could be months. All we do know is she is being cared for by the best people in the Biz and is comfier that I could ever hope for.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Best Christmas Gift of All is Family

Evening one and all, 

2020! Here. It. Is. Finally, the countdown can really begin to our wedding day! Eeek! But first I feel I need to explain as this is not only my first writing of the new decade, but also that it has been some time. Apologies as Christmas and New Years really did take over a little and I went from manic at my desk to my day job being catching up on crap telly and being Mr Warehouse's chauffeur to and from work (Unfortunately he had to work between the Christmas/New Year slump whilst I got it off). That being said I was glad of the break. 

Christmas went well. Or at least as well as to be expected. The evening before, Christmas Eve, was spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee eating fine food and drinking over-priced red wine. I had hoped that maybe Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb would have been over before this point that they could have shared however this was not the case and at that precise moment were probably boarding said plane from L.A. to make the long journey back home. Nevertheless, Mr Warehouse and I were spoilt with gifts of chocolate and smellies and other treats, but the best thing was the experience vouchers she bought for us; Mr Warehouse's was an "Escape Room" experience to test our teamwork and nerves, and mine was a "Pig Petting Day". Looking on the website, Kew Little Pigs, I can tell already this is right up my street and I am ecstatic Miss Tweedle-Dee bought it for me! 

The website describes the Piggy Pet and Playday as a chance to meet a bunch of lovable new friends at Kew Little Pigs. "Discover a piggy paradise inside the petting pen for an hour and a half of fun, where you’ll meet the pigs by name, pet and play with them, and give them a good groom. The miniature pigs come in all shapes and sizes, each with their own unique personality, so guaranteed you’ll meet some real characters. Selfie seekers are always welcome, as the pigs love the spotlight and know exactly how to strike a pose!" Heading home I slipped into some new Pyjama's and desperately tried to stay awake to watch Elf - Our family Christmas movie, but with everyone cuddled up on the sofa, I could barely keep my eyes open. Heading to bed I snuggled into my plush Teddy Bear duvet set and drifted off to sleep. 

Christmas Day started well, gifts and presents from Mr Warehouse and I to our beloved animals, Frankenstein not quite understanding what was going on and our older one knowing exactly what was happening and where all the treats were! Mr Warehouse had bought some beautiful jewellery sets, earrings and necklaces as well as many a bath bomb (forever on my Christmas and Birthday Wish lists) as well as some more practical items such as salt and pepper shakers and make-up removal pads. Although I cannot be surprised when we did the Poundland Christmas Challenge. You take £10.00, visit your local Poundland (or discount retailer) and attempt to fill a stocking, in this instance for our better halves. It was such fun when doing it the weekend before Christmas, running around and hiding from each other whilst trying to sneakily hide so as not to get caught. What did I get Mr Warehouse you ask? Well, I thought that the replacement Stanley knife blades (mainly for his work), giant gummy cola bottle and water bottle all went down well as odd but appreciated presents. I think even when we have children, a big house and money is tight, I would like to always have this as our little thing we do every year. 

Following our fun, we packed up the car and headed over to my (future) brother-and-sister-in-laws house for presents with the kids, one niece and two nephews! Just as we finished unwrapping their generous gifts of more chocolate, alcohol and smellies Mr Warehouse's older brother and his wife arrived with their son and we continued the festivities until lunch. making a move we promised to see them again tomorrow and made our way to Nanny Pumpkins where the whole family was waiting for us. My Uncle from Ireland was over and so was my other uncle which was nice and my cousins were hyper full of chocolate and sugar no doubt being Christmas. Dad was on Dinner duties and Nanny was relaxing with my Auntie and a glass (or two) nattering away. Coming into the chaos I was glad to have made the decision I had to be involved this year as I was not in the best place last year. 

Just before we sat down to the feast we handed out our gifts and took receipt of mine and Mr Warehouse's appreciatively including a Chocolate Afternoon Tea experience, a meal out voucher, books, gaming gear (For the fiance) and other goodies. I noted though that Dad was quiet. After a difficult year for both of us and without going into too much detail, I wondered if I would have ever spent a Christmas with him again. I saw he was getting emotional and I knew what gift had put him there. I had thought many weeks ago about what final present I could get him when I came up with a good idea for a photo book containing as many pictures and photos of myself and my brother as possible. I knew it would cause some emotion to stir up and assumed that he would know what it was as soon as he opened it and just shuffle it away, but he didn't. He opened it and with that opened himself and started to weep in front of the family, something he was not able to do easily. I knew it was a good gift and wiping away the tears, his look told me that too.

Following dinner and pudding and games, people started to drift home, although not wanting to Mary Celeste my Nanny completely Mr Warehouse, the doggo's and I stayed for a little, chatting softly to my Nan as my Uncle dozed in the next room. It was at that point that I completely forgot about our present from our Wedding Photographer - Sophie Ann! A few days ago we had received a really sweet Christmas card from her, explaining that this was indeed my last Christmas as a Miss and that she looked forward to working with us in the new year. In there also was a raffle ticket that won a special Christmas present! We were number 37. But wait where was the raffle ticket. I panicked. Did it get thrown our with the wrapping paper rubbish? Was it tossed away? Oh god no! Searching I found it in the bottom of a gift bag and proceeded to Social Media to hunt for the big reveal. There it was for all to see. Selected number? 37! WE WON! Mr Warehouse had won a free engagement photo shoot and a chance to meet our photographer and chat before the big day. Uhhh what a weight off our mind! This truly had been one of the best Christmases in a while. No one argued, No one fought, No one drank too much. A classy Christmas all round. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Arbeit Macht Frei (Work Will Set You Free)

Hallo, 

Waking up on our first proper morning in Krakow, Nanny Pumpkin and I hardly had time to loll around. Breakfast at the Hotel Kazimierz was somewhat, different, with the normal continental breakkie items such as cereals, cheeses, hams and fruit, however, I certainly did not expect mini Pepperami, a type of weird pancake omelette thing, undercooked cold scrambled egg and a strange chicken haslet thing your mom used to give you in your packed lunch as a kid. After satisfying myself with trying some new breakfast items, Polish style, we headed out on a private walking tour, just me, my Nanny Pumpkin and a lovely Polish lady who knew lots about the city and its inhabitants, Jewish and not so. 

Starting in the heart of Kraków’s Kazimierz - the former Jewish district we visited some beautiful synagogues and cemeteries before exploring the city further, and how life was before the outbreak of the Second World War. Furthing our understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation, we ended up in the ghetto square, only a few streets away from the Schindler factory which we also visited, learning about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. The following day we had an early start and so after a spot of shopping (and falling flat over on my face whilst doing so in a busy square) and Nanna's adventures on another private Golf-Buggy tour, and some dinner, we headed to bed. 

Waking the following morning we were picked up early around the corner from our hotel due to roadworks and taken about 30-45 minutes from Krakow to the Salt Mine. Wandering along the remarkably beautiful undergrounds of the “Wieliczka” Salt Mine. Our journey started at the Danilowicz Shaft, where we met our tour guide, a lovely, handsome young thing called Dominik. He was not so lovely when he made us and the others in our tour walk down 350 steps which have to be descended to reach the depth of 135 meters underground and to initially start the tour. During our tour we were shown magnificent chambers chiselled out in rock salt, and yes I did lick the walls just to be sure! Amazing underground saline lakes, majestic timber constructions and unique statues sculpted in salt were amongst the almost 3 kilometres of meandering corridors and 800 steps, during which we learnt everything about the mine, its history and its secrets. As an active mine however we saw a few workmen who explained about the forces of nature still ruling within the depths of the mine and about the ethos of hard work performed by the generations of miners, still there today. Travelling further and further into the mine chasm my Grandmother and I cursed ourselves for all the walking but yet continued to discover unusual places and with our own eyes witnessed the power of human hands that once excavated rock salt, as well as magnificent mining tools and machines. I suppose that it is no real surprise that till now, the Tourist Route, the main visiting route of the mine has been visited by 44,772,693 tourists from around the whole world in search of adventures (and solid calf muscles). 

We returned to the Hotel Kazimierz around mid-morning and wasting no time Gram's headed out again on another one of her tours. I decided that the amount of walking done already, and with the amount, we would be due to do the following afternoon at Auschwitz and Birkenau - The Nazi Death Camps. And, after a spot of shopping in the morning, Nanny and I headed off to the one thing we had both admittedly been looking forward to and anxiously anticipating all week. I didn't know if anything could have prepared me for the influx of emotions that ran through my heart as I listened carefully to our guide as we explored the camps of Auschwitz first (in glorious sunshine) and Birkenau where the weather turned less than pleasant. As the only death camp on the UNESCO World Heritage List, pure evil resided for 5 long years during Hitler's reign of terror across Europe. As we passed under the gates, emblazoned with "Work will set you free" in German I witnessed a Chinese / Asian couple as part of a larger group begin to take photos, one of which was a selfie. Shocked I was about to say something but someone else beat me to it. 
"No selfies, No smiling, No laughing - This is where people were murdered. Show some respect." Barked the guide. Pleased at this I knew from the outset that she was fucking serious and that no shit would be taken by her. As we were walked around each exhibition in the museum there was added more and more compelling information and heartbreaking statistics. Another one and another one and another one, each stinging in your heart and making you realise what atrocities humans are capable of in their thirst for power and control. 

To assist and help people understand what really happened in the most recognizable place of the Holocaust in the early 1940s, The Museum created a tour that will allow visitors like my Nan and I to see the barracks, crematoria, and gas chambers which Nazis used for the mass extermination of women, men, children, and elderly who weren’t able to do hard labour after what was an excruciating and exhausting journey in cattle wagons and trains. One of the hardest things I think I encountered and certainly won’t miss in a hurry was the exhibitions with personal belongings, objects of everyday use, and pictures of individual prisoners. The thing that really hit hard was the pots, pans, jugs, and kitchenware, all brightly colored, ready to start your new life with your mother, father, brother, sister, grandma, grandad, auntie and uncle. Along with your neighbors and friends, they were lied to. There were no new homes, no new jobs, no new life. All that they met was a Gestapo and the best they could hope for was survival in the deadliest game of Tinder where he stood as the transportation stopped, giving either a thumbs left or a thumbs right, one indicating the workhouse's and hard labor, the other a "shower" to clean up before meeting their husbands, brothers, sisters, mothers again. This would never come. They were murdered. 

Since the war ended and the museum was opened for the public, millions of people have come here to pay tribute and shed tears over the innocents who perished in Auschwitz, most of which were Jewish however many more were also from Poland and a lot more than I originally thought. Traveling the short distance to Birkenau the weather turned poor with the fading daylight and it really added a sense of realness to the atmosphere already darkened. It began to rain as we walked the distance along the tracks to the gates. It was only during the next length of the walk, following the ominous train line that you really got a feel for how mammoth this place was and ponder at what would have been had England and the other allies not stepped in. How far would Hitler and the Third Reich go? Would they have had world domination and if so, would we be here? What would the world look like if they had succeeded in their foul plan of the Aryan race?

Standing listening to the guide intently I heard whispers of being cold or wet (and considering I was in a heavy wool jumper which was getting more and more sodden as I stood out in the elements). I couldn't help but talk loudly to my Grandmother on the walk over to the women's barracks in the torrential rain that these people did not have the luxury of coats or jackets or umbrellas. Heck, these poor people did not even have the use of shoes or socks on their feet as they trudged the harsh, broken brick road. I was angry at people's thoughtless comments - Children, women and men alike, young and old stood out in that same weather, worse in fact with minus-thirty-degree snow and scorching summers to battle with no shade. Standing in the shelter of the women's barracks I couldn't help but look around and was even able to snap a few photos to capture the atmosphere, the pictures, and photos littered with white or silver orbs - Typically thought to be positive spirit activity, although some sources also state that they could also indicate that a spirit or energy is stuck or trapped on a plane that they don't belong on. 

On leaving both the concentration camps and also Krakow and Poland, I believe and stand by the fact that all of us, without exception, should brace up and pay a visit to such a sobering place for the sake of future generations to make sure no one forgets what hatred and totalitarian regime result in. Myself being from a military family I felt it my duty and as though it is a right of passage for me to learn more about how the war started, especially since I learned so much about how it ended and continued in western Europe. As a Human, even if you are not religious or of nationalities involved, I would encourage you to go, be brave, and pay your respects for those that fell for us so we could live forward.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Życie dobrze podróżowane (A Life Well Travelled)

Hi, 

Setting off from home the whole family had turned out to see me off, although I think the older one had got a bit bored and headed off down the street, probably to take a shit in one of the neighbour's front gardens. Cuddles with my Frankenstein only made me remember the moments we had shared over the weekend as we had taken our first puppy swim class together and he had done so well. Kissing and hugging Mr. Warehouse I was sad he was not coming as well but would love the moment I came home to him and the puppies. Heading down back home I popped by my Scottish grandmother to say hello, as I did with my Auntie and Uncle. I finished off by settling into Nanny Pumpkins, roast lamb dinner and a period drama I was tired and knowing the early start I was ready to bed down. 

Falling asleep quickly on her Sofa I remembered the last time I was on there and it was not a favourable circumstance. I must say it was not the best night's sleep and I was absolutely nackard when I was awoken at 4.30am to my dearest Nanna asking if I was going to stay there all day or if I wanted to go on holiday. Make-up done and hair in a Halloween scrunchie, I was ready and so was the taxi! The airport was pretty clear, as I would normally expect, so arriving nearly three-hours before our flight seemed futile, but nevertheless, it allowed us time for some overpriced breakfast and coffee and a nice chat. The flight was easy enough and as normal, despite the time, I treated myself to some champagne and nibbles. The flight itself I expected would have been busy but in actual fact was so empty most of the wing seats had only one person in them, something I know as a fact Mr. Warehouse would have appreciated and been the first to jump into given half the chance.  

Arriving and getting through the airport and city to our hotel was a breeze as Nanna had opted for a private transfer, something which was deemed a luxury for Mr. Warehouse and me when we are travelling. The hotel is lovely and is situated in a historical building, in the heart of Kraków’s Kazimierz - the former Jewish district. Within walking distance of the Old Town and the historical Wawel Castle the heated and air-conditioned rooms at Hotel Kazimierz are well-appointed including a private bathroom with a shower and a toilet, as well as satellite TV and free Internet access. We have yet to spend our first night hear obviously and have yet to sample the breakfast buffet which is available every morning, however, I am sure to enjoy a morning coffee, and maybe a cheeky cigarette on our balcony overlooking the back streets of Kazimierz.  With the hotel's jazzy wallpaper and random decor choices, its offering is good for any traveller, couple, single or family with a 24-hour front desk, as well as airport shuttle and free of charge luggage storage. 

I get the feeling, especially so when Nanny and I went to explore the hotel and the "breakfast balcony" where the morning meal would be served. Stepping up the small flight to the balcony I looked around to see plenty of tables and chairs. However, looking over the balcony and peering down to what can only be described as more restaurant seating areas, covering what would maybe be a dance floor I felt as though the building could tell some dark tales. Staring down I had visions of the family running and hiding or trying desperately to escape as German troops and officers stormed the building, as they had done with the whole street I imagine, marching the men outside, never to be seen again and leaving the rest of them to only wonder what next. It gives me chills to think about what happened here but I feel as I did when Mr. Warehouse and I stayed in a hotel in Newquay for one of his cousin's weddings and the feels and creeps I got from that place, only to discover its tragic past of the Hotel Victoria. 

I am sure I will get many more feelings like that, but for now, I am absolutely shattered and after a ravishing meal, I am sooo ready for bed. Tomorrow we visit the Jewish areas of Krakow and attend the Schindler Tour. Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. I shall look forward to the next few days as much as possible without sounding like a raving Nazi, but until then - Night, NIght!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

For The Dead And For The Living We Must Bear Witness

Cześć, 

Well, that was my first attempt at Polish. I suppose I have got to start somewhere, considering I will be in the beautiful city of Krakow this time next week, writing to you all from my Hotel room I shall be sharing with a very dear friend and family member. 

This all started back last year, possibly just after my birthday also, my Nanny Pumpkin came over and upon other things the conversation steered towards city breaks and travelling and some of the things we would like to tick off our never-ending bucket lists. It was at this point that my Nanna had said that an old family friend who had recently passed away the year before had left some money for her and my grandfather in her will, and as a result of my grandfathers passing a few months earlier, she thought it would be a nice way to celebrate them both by going on a trip of a lifetime. It sounds incredible doesn't it - Gothic old city, Eastern European food and plenty of culture to warm the soul. But it will not all be about cocktails in swanky bars and maybe the odd mooch around some shops, oh no. You see being from a long military family lineage, I have become accustomed more than most to hearing stories about the war and the impact that they had not on life here in Britain but also that of other countries and nations brought into Hitler's wrath. And so, along with the Istagramable dinners and sites, my Grandma and I will be visiting the site of one of the worlds most vicious and notorious death camps - Auschwitz. 

Our trip will start on Monday with an early morning flight from Luton, arriving in the city of Krakow approximately midday. I am sure we will have plenty of time to take in the sights and sounds and smells before having some dinner and heading for our room. 

Tuesday will be spent paying our respects and I am sure learning more about some of the most horrendous, and hopeful stories to come from such a place. Auschwitz and Birkenau were the largest of the German Nazi concentration camps and extermination centres. Located a short drive from Krakow city centre, we will visit the site where over 1.1 million men, women, and children lost their lives. The post-camp relics are protected by the Museum created in 1947 in the hope that future generations could learn, and understand how one mans actions can influence a nation to do unspeakable things. As well as teaching, the establishment also helps with research, conservation and even has a publishing centre for some of its work. I have always said that irrespective of my military connections, everyone, Jewish, German or otherwise, as a human being, should visit there if you can. There is no way to understand postwar Europe and indeed the world without an in-depth confrontation between our idea of mankind today and the remains of Auschwitz and the tale sit can tell. 

Taking a break from the emotional stuff, Wednesday will be spent exploring the wondrous caverns of the Salt Mine. With visitors reaching over a million every year it was certainly somewhere me and my little old Nanna were not going to miss out on. However Thursday we will be diving in deep again to hear some hopefully more heartwarming stories on the Schindler Tour. The website my Nanna and I booked through, Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. 

The following day we fly home and no doubt will be emotionally and physically exhausted from such a beautiful but also emotionally charged trip. It's hard to say I am looking forward to it. I mean I am, simply because it is somewhere fresh and new and another Bucket List item ticked off, but also to understand the magnitude of the Holocaust and the remarkable people that managed to survive. I am sure it will be one hell of a trip, one where I should probably start packing!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Wedding Like No Other!

Hello, 

With less than a few days until his operation I thought I would again try and teach my puppy some valuable life skills, like how to conduct ones self when in a peculiar environment whilst containing bowel movements, sitting in the front seat of a moving vehicle whilst not being sick or having a pampering sleepover round your Mom's friend's house as they all sit around chatting shit and smoking like it's1984 their in a seedy nightclub. 

I wouldn't say it was the best experience he has had, however, that being said it certainly went a lot better than anticipated. I started our trip as I normally do stopping off at Nanny Pumpkin's for a coffee and a biscuit. We chatted about mine and Mr Warehouses new edition since she had not yet met our little bundle of fur, cooeing over him like a new baby and admiring him from a distance. Truth be told I don't think that my Nanny Pumpkin is much of a pet person especially that of dogs. I assume, partly from what she has told me and partly from my own judgement that as a military family they were surrounded by families who would get a dog or a cat and then have to give it up several weeks later when they moved army barracks only to be disappointed when Mittens or Rover could not come with them. I do recall somewhere that my father and his brothers had won a goldfish at a local fair and that my Nanny Pumpkin had agreed to let them keep it. If I remember correctly that the goldfish met its end in the same way many do with one flush and a toilet burial. 

I briefly saw my aunty, uncle and cousins as they had also popped by to see me and the new puppy, after which I tried to dash over to my other Nana's to see my uncle and her before my uncle went to go and play golf. I knew before even stepping foot inside the jazzy carpeted house that she had lived in for the last decade or so that my Scottish Nana would be much more reciprocal to my baby-pooch. I knew for a fact that my Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. Picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest. 

I thought to myself as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. In her mid-80's now her soft white curls seemed to wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years. We spoke alot about my upcoming wedding next year and discussed a lot about her wedding and how different it was back then. 

I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger. 

Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him. 

Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic. 

Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish as she recalled and remembered how the day went. And as my little fur baby fell asleep hold-up on the jazzy carpet I thought about how this could be me in a few decades time, remembering all the fun and joyous moments I had with friends and family at my own wedding. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Turning off the Christmas Lights

Heyy,

So let me start this week's blog post about telling you exactly how much I love my fiance Mr Warehouse, however as much as I loved spending every waking moment with him I would also like to have some time by myself on the sofa watching some sort of crappy episodes of back to back Teen Mom OG or Homes Under the Hammer.

Finally though after what has seems like months, at last I last got a lovely long Saturday morning lay-in and a good binge of TV all washed down with a huge mug of coffee and maybe a mince pies or two. OK OK maybe it was the whole box, but in my defence they were going out of date and oh my goodness they were so crumbly and sweet. Besides, if one is not allowed to binge TV and eat copious amounts of food over the Christmas period then quite frankly what are you doing with your life?

During the run up to this time of year I either spend it out and about most evenings catching up with friends, on holidays or mini breaks away to somewhere more christmassy than Bedfordshire or just simply in a salon somewhere trying to make myself look beautiful for the party season whilst searching for a sequin sparkly plus-size dress that does not exist anywhere in any size other than anorexic or dead-for-a-week. But this year is different. I suppose that this past year there has been quite a few changes in my life which has made Christmas a little different. Granddad will not be feeding the dog from his bed, Mr and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb are off living their best lives in sunny L.A, I have a new Fiance and a New Job as Marketing Coordinator but most of all, I have a swanky new home! 

Ahh yes the dynamics of Christmas has changed. But that is not to say that anything will be overtly out of the ordinary this year compared with last. Yes obviously my grandfather wont be there which in many ways will be sad for all of us as a family, however that being said, Christmas was a time for all the family to get around his bedside and take the piss, tell jokes, laugh and enjoy each others company - Or put up with it, depending on which members of the family you asked. Christmas is a day for celebrating and despite his absence, I plan to do just that. I plan to enjoy the company of my loved ones on Christmas day and will start it as normal with Mr. Warehouse and pooch in our new abode, opening the presents we have been hiding from each other for the last few months and eating chocolate for breakfast as any normal twenty-six/seven year-olds would do. 

Next will be bundling ourselves into the car for a trip round to My future families, Big Brother Warehouses, to have a spot of brunch (usually pigs in blankets although I am not sure why) and to watch our nieces and nephews open their presents from "Santa". You would have thought after generations he would remember to drop them at the right house! Nevertheless off we go again, on the move for the final time, back home to the other end of the 'Shire to spend Christmas dinner with my family, hopefully staying well into the evening and making use of Nanny Pumpkins glorious Cheese-board and over-indulgent Buffet. 

My Grandpa loved this time of year, good TV, family around cracking jokes and any excuse to have the house and garden filled with lights that went off any time you breathed a little to heavily, setting the whole Bungalow into a Vegas styled, all singing all dancing light show. My favourite part of being their grandchild was to sneak round the lounge when someone was sleeping and clap so that the singing Santa came alive, blaring out another nauseating Christmas hit! My brother and I used to laugh and giggle when "someone" would activate the Christmas lights and music, sending Nanny Pumpkin into a spin about why they were all going off again and waking Granddad from his afternoon snooze. 

I think it will be odd this year for sure but that is not to say it will be bad, he is in a better place and to an extent the family can relax a little as we won't have to wait on him hand and foot. Nanny will be sad I am sure but even she will probably find solace in the silence and normal lighting. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Blood Makes You Related, Love Makes You A Family

Hello,

Waking up on Saturday morning was probably the most relaxed I think I have had any morning waking up in my new home thus far. The last week or two had been strained to say the least and contributed to me losing my bag a few times with Mr Warehouse. Still in a bit of pain I was dropping him to work and picking him up every day which was starting to grate on me without having any of my own free time. Nevertheless a weekend away from it all and a quick calculation of our first mortgage payment and few bills that are coming in make it look and feel as though things will not be as tight as initially thought in the first few months of home ownership. Whilst I may well be math's dyslexic I am however quite good with working out financially whether something is a viable option or not, especially so when looking at our savings for the house and now going forward for the wedding. 

Hearing my fiance watching TV downstairs probably with the dog by his side made me grin with happiness as I rolled over to welcome in the brightness from outside. Now that is not to say that Saturday was at all a gloriously sunny or beautiful day for weather. If anything it was Far flung from that and was overcast, grey, drizzly and quite windy. Perfect weather for a Gazebo! Knowing that Mr Warehouse had probably silenced my alarms a few hours ago it was certainly time to get out of bed. Trundling down the stairs, still in my pyjamas and rubbing my eyes and waking myself up along every step, I wondered about coffee, only to hear the Bae call in from the lounge down the hallway that he put the kettle on a few moments ago anticipating my arrival. Such a sweetie! I think that the only way this morning could have possibly been any better is if he had brought it to me in bed. But today was not a day for lounging around in your duvet with a coffee in hand. Oh No! Today was the day that it finally felt all so real. I was engaged. I was a home-owner. And I was about to celebrate it all with the ones I loved most. 

Rushing around like a headless chicken, Mr. Warehouse and I didn't even stop for a cuppa or breakfast, soldiering through to put up the gazebo, lay out food, make the house presentable and decorate for a party! As the afternoon broke, we had our first guests, Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee. Unfortunately Miss Tweedle-Dee already had prior commitments with her cousins and so was unable to make it but I was so glad when her parents turned up to warm us into our new home as our first proper guests. Showing them round they kept saying how proud they were of me and also of my fiance and how lovely it all was. 

Soon after the next set of guests arrived, my Auntie and eldest cousin. Again the house tour began and after about the third or fourth I was glad for Mr Warehouse to take over a little with the hostessing as I mingled with our house now full of guests. "OK so maybe a few too many invites went out" I thought as I pondered what would have happened if more of the people who were meant to come had not of dropped out. Where would they go?! Probably that gazebo! Door goes again and I think about how I swear there was a TV comedy sketch show about doors constantly going and people piling on in. Regardless I welcomed them all in, Nana's, Uncles, Aunties, Cousins and friends. 

As the afternoon worn on so did the guests, and with every glass of Prosecco Mr. Warehouse topped me up with the more fuzzy I felt. Most of my side of the family stayed, a good majority of the afternoon and into the evening, mingling and chatting with each other and catching up after the more somber occasion of my grandfathers funeral earlier in the year. Taking a look around I was overwhelmed, as I always am with how many people really do love and support me. No matter what I do, or say or don't do even, they all love me unconditionally. Regardless of their opinions on what I wear or how I conduct my life they accept me for who I am and love and support me no matter what. That is truely what family is. Coming together to celebrate the good and comfort in the bad. It was at that moment I knew that I was content, at least for the time being and that I in a way had officially "made it". Out of everything that I have and are going through, I can honestly say that the hard work has paid off. Time to relax into our new home in time for Christmas ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

An Olive Branch?

Evening, 

Following my visit last week to the wonderful island of Ireland after my grandfather's departure, it was certainly a visit to see family and recuperate that I think both Mr Warehouse and I definitely needed. But back home in the struggling spring of Mainland UK and with most things organised for the funeral including piecing together an all black outfit that would be appropriate for a funeral whilst still maintaining at some class and decorum about me, there was very little left to do. 

And yet I had to still try and get a hold of my brother. When it first happened, my granddad's death that is, I hoped he has some sense in trying to get in contact with the family, including both my mother or fathers sides. But what with Mr Warehouse and I travelling to Ireland, contacting my brother had slipped my mind in all fairness but as I said last week, in a funny sort of way I had made my peace with my Granddad and his demise, all I wanted is for my brother to have the opportunity do the same and make an informed choice. Last week I supposed that only time will tell. I didn't have to wait long. 

Following my return from County Kilkenny, I called round all family members, hoping to get an update or to find out that maybe given the circumstances my brother had contacted anyone, even just to send a card or to call and give his condolences and sympathies. Nothing. At the very least I thought he might reach out after all these years to our grandmother who had lost not only the love of her life but also the father to their children who eventually grew into the family she now has. But no. 

After speaking with my mother's brother, my Uncle Golf, I was informed that he to had not had any communication from my brother at all since the beginning of the month. I was disappointed to say the least. This was certainly not how our parents raised us and far from what I would expect my brother to act as an bow fully grown man. Talking more my Uncle Golf decided that my brother and I needed to talk and would be most unfortunate circumstances needed to talk and at the very least discuss the details for the funeral and what we both might like to say about our memory of our time with him. And so with this information and coupled with my brothers mobile number, on a evening after a heavy gym session I decided to give him a call. 

Was I nervous? Yes! Was I Anxious? Definitely!  Was I scared? No, he was my little bro! OK well I was a little bit but I think that all of those feelings are fairly normal when you have not spoken to someone who is meant to be one of the closest people in your life in the last four years. I suppose it is kind of morbid in a way that the last time we spoke it was at another funeral. honestly speaking I hope that it was not going to be add another but here I was. In my kitchen. In my flat. Dialling his number Mr. Warehouse stood by me stirring the pot of risotto watching it boil and bubble. It began to ring. With the dialling tone continuing I expected a voicemail to hit soon. 'Maybe he was just like his big sister putting his phone on charge and ignoring it for the whole evening?' I thought. But I barely had a moment to think about that before a deep manly voice answered the phone in a jovial tone. 

"Hiya" The young man said. Shocked, I had not expected my brother to be so receiving and happy about me calling. But oh how wrong I was! On hearing my voice my baby brother proceeded to tell me to "Fuck Off"! Stunned by his outrageous behaviour and inability to control himself and show a bit of respect, I had only a few seconds before he hung up the phone. Attempting quickly to return his call, it went almost straight to voicemail. Leaving him probably quite a lengthy and rambling on voicemail I followed up my communication, although brief with my brother, on a text message. 

Hi Sean it's me, your big sister. 

I know that you don't want to speak to me so I thought I would message you instead. Obviously I'm hoping that you know this already but if not our Granddad passed away recently. On behalf of myself, the family which you are apart of even after all these years but most importantly Granddad himself we would really like to see you. 

I understand if you do not want to come and see myself, dad or anyone else in the family for reasons I can only assume, but at the very least I think you should go and say goodbye to our Granddad one last time. I have enclosed the details below that are on all of the families social media pages as I am not sure if you have seen them. If you have not then you now have all the right information in order to make an knowledgeable decision about what you would like to do for yourself and I hope you do the right thing as a lot has changed in all these years. 

I have spoken to other family members and they have all said that if you would like they are more than welcome to offer you a lift to and from the funeral, crematorium and wake and this is including myself. 

If you end up deciding that you would not like to come to the funeral for whatever reason, personal or otherwise, then at the very least call the funeral directors and they will be able to organise a time for a personal viewing of the body so it is just you and Granddad where no one else will be allowed in. 

It's up to you at the end of the day but I would like to hope that you would still go and pay your respects to our grandfather who loved us unconditionally and irrespective of our parents and what they did or did not do. 

When everything is said and done, I just wanted to make sure that you had a chance to make an informed decision for yourself as an adult. I love you and if there is anything else I can do or that you would like to discuss them please call me. My number hasn't changed. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx