Everybody needs good neighbours!

Hello Hello Lovelies, 

Following our arrival, Mr Warehouse and I had been in the country for less than 24-hours before the UK government had listed Turkey as a no-go-zone and from that Saturday morning at 4am (Saturday 3rd October 2020) would impose a fourteen-day quarantine rule on anyone returning. Safe to say I was annoyed and frustrated but it did make me think though - Why? 

As the new broke on the BBC website, Mr Warehouse and I read on as the article stated that holiday-makers arriving from Turkey and several other places will have to self-isolate for 14-days. This is because it can take up to 14 days for coronavirus symptoms to appear.  The UK government said it removed Turkey "over concerns about the way the country reports its data" something which I feel ever so strongly about considering the UK government haven't exactly been shit hot on reporting figures anyway. Meanwhile, the Scottish Government weren't exactly blameless in the scrutiny as announced in a statement that it was "clear that case numbers in Turkey have been under-reported" and that whilst Turkey's reported infection rate has dropped to 12.9 cases per 100,000, down from 14.2 in the week prior. 

Frustratingly the BBC report goes on to explain that if you look at the official data coming out of Turkey then it sits comfortably well below the UK's benchmark for applying the quarantine of 20 cases for every 100,000 people, but revelations that the number of cases in Turkey has been under-reported has put the country onto the "red" list, despite the UK, or any other country for that matter, being no better. Whilst Mr Warehouse and I are just on the cusp of our "release date" as family and friends are now calling it, The Department for Transport is still no closer at looking to whether testing can be used at airports to reduce the quarantine period from 14 to seven days. 

This being said, however, the self-isolation and quarantining on return from holiday doesn't sit well with every traveller. It is almost impossible for the police to enforce quarantine rules so it is hoped heavier fines for repeat offenders will mean fewer people will break the rules. But with the increase in tougher fines for those who fail to self-isolate, it could be a costly mistake to break the rules. Fines for the first offence of failing to self-isolate when required will start at £1,000, before increasing to £2,000, then £4,000 up to a maximum of £10,000. The upper limit for repeat offences was previously £3,200. This was something Mr Warehouse and I nearly found out the hard way!

Three-days into our fourteen-day personal lockdown we had little left in the cupboards. Momma Warehouse had been living in our humble abode for the week we were away, looking after the puppies and enjoying some time with family and friends whilst down hear from her home in Cambridgeshire that she shares with her Boyfriend. This coupled with the fact Mr Warehouse and I never expected to have to self isolate, food supplies were running low. So waking on Saturday morning we took the decision to break the rules and step outside. 

Now I know what you are thinking - You could have got a delivery and yes we could have, had it not been for the fact all the slots were taken until the following weekend thus leaving ourselves in an even worst situation that eating natty Special K for six days in a row, breakfast lunch and dinner. Yes, I suppose we could have gotten someone to go and collect some things for us and helped out, however, when you were expecting to do a full month's worth of shopping on your return totalling over £100, it's a bit of a big ask and would have either meant me giving out my bank card and pin (not safe if you had to wonder why) or transferring money over to someone's account and asking them to go out for several hours in order to purchase everything, and that's all in the hope that they would get all the correct items within budget. 

And so with that option being too much of a burden on the very little friends and family we both have locally, considering my family is mainly back home in Luton, Momma Warehouse being the other side of Huntingdon over an hour away and both of us being estranged from the other parent, we decided to look up our options. 

The GOV.uk website states that it is very important that travellers stay in the declared accommodation as self-isolating will reduce the chance of a second wave (which is and was basically already upon us and fucking inevitable). Mr Warehouse and I must self-isolate at the address we had provided on the public health passenger locator form, despite no one at the airport actually asking for it. GOV.uk continues; "You cannot go out to work or visit public areas and should not go shopping. If you require help buying groceries, other shopping or picking up medication, you should ask friends or relatives or order a delivery." Although note please the above comments as to why these options were not possible for us and as the absolute key point here - In England, you can only leave your accommodation in limited circumstances including but not limited to accessing basic necessities like food and medicines where you cannot arrange for these to be delivered. 

And so Saturday afternoon Mr Warehouse and I hopped in the car and made our one journey outside our accommodation, all the while staying alert and staying safe as per the government's website advice in order to do enough food shopping so we can survive our self-isolation period. We were gone just over an hour, good innings considering the amount we had to buy and money spent. We wore our masks constantly and kept to more than the two-metre social distancing rules where possible. Nevertheless, within two hours of arriving back home, there was a rather ominous knock on the door. Confused at who might be calling at such a late hour I got up to answer. 

There standing at the door was a female police officer. I was shocked, to say the least, but now she and her male counterpart were there in front of me I knew I had some explaining to do. I answered her questions honestly and explained the situation in hand, that we had tried in vain to get a delivery and we did not have many friends or family local to help us. I was informed that Amazon delivers to my address (which on later inspection I found out was a crock of bullshit as they don't due to us living in a newly built housing estate) and that I really should not be venturing outside of my home address. I apologized and promised that since we had now got the provisions we needed we would not be going out again. Seemingly pleased with my responses they left, but not after answering my question about who the fuck on the street ratted me out. 

The answer - Two! Two separate complaints and calls had come into the desk about mine and my fiance's escapades and as such, they had to investigate them thoroughly, which is fair enough. I knew that we had done everything by the book and made allowances where we could have but a trip was necessary and needed. And we are not alone. As reported by the BBC, since the introduction of the travel quarantine regime in the summer, police officers have investigated more than 4,000 alleged breaches of the rules with more than 200 people were found to be ignoring the quarantine requirement, but escaping a fine because they listened to the officer on their doorstep first time around. 

Closing the door my blood boiled. Explaining what had happened to Mr Warehouse, tucked away in the living room, I fumed about the fact that someone snitched. You see I wouldn't have minded so much if it was that kind of neighbourhood, but I figured, since every fucker n this street had broken all manner of lockdown rules from the maximum 6-person rule to having people actually in your home to whether that trip to the shops was truly "essential" for paint and decorating materials?! Every. Single. One. And not even just a little bit either, most of the time rules were not adhered to, however, I saw it as it was not my business and to keep my nose out. They weren't harming me or interfering in what I was doing so why should I care. But apparently, someone else does! 

I think the worst thing is that despite that, Mr Warehouse could have been leaving the house on Saturday afternoon for anything. Our neighbours didn't know where we were going or what we were doing. For all they knew we could have been bombing it over to the vet's with one of the dogs, going to visit someone that was dying or even rushing to the accident and emergency after injuring ourselves - All reasonable excuses, by law I might add, as explained on the GOV.uk website. But no, rather than having some balls and rapping our door to ask if everything was OK or if we needed everything or even just how our holiday was they decided to waste police time and resources. I suppose I can't judge everyone else's behaviour on mine or what I would do in that same situation - Because had the shoe been on the other foot and I had seen someone go out when they were meant to be self-isolating I would have made an effort to go over and talk to them, rather than being sneaky and sly.

So far I have had several messages from neighbours on our street checking in and making sure everything was OK, although probably moreso to see why the effing cops were at my door more than everything, of which I am more than welcome to share my story. As one neighbour put, it is just a shame that whoever it was didn't have the guts (we still don't know for certain, even though I think I have a damned good idea who) and instead hid behind their anonymous phone calls and twitching curtains. 

I get it I broke the rules, but I also look out for people and mind my own business when needed to, not stabbing people in the back without knowing the facts first. It is a crying shame that whoever reported me and my future Hubby felt they couldn't come and talk to my face about it because after all is said and done, and COVID-19 has gone away, we will still be living next door to one another. I will still watch out for your kids when they're playing out front. I will still lend you jump leads when your car battery is dead in the middle of winter. I will still watch your house when your away on holiday. I will still take in that parcel you needed delivering today. I will still keep an eye out if I see someone dodgy skulking around. Why? Because I am not a slimy snake. But don't worry friends, I got the best revenge party lined up for when this is all over including base so loud you can hear it from the other end of the cunting village ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Ahh The Youth Of Today!

Hello, 

I can certainly say that the last week has been much better than before. Whilst I am still stressed up to my eyeballs what with trying to find a solicitor that will actually communicate with me, source some little bits and pieces for our home and get a handle on my fluctuating depression, I have certainly found the last few days a little bit easier to deal with. Therapy this week was helpful and whilst I feel as though we are going over old ground with my mother and brother and that whole scenario, I feel as though this is a key component in trying to work out where I go from now and how best I go forward with my life and those in it. Life was just about manageable until Saturday morning happened. 

We had a new girl, maybe in her early twenties move in a couple of weeks ago, a lovely lass who seemingly appears to scrub up well when going on a night out and apparently had a toddler daughter that was due to be moving in with her soon. We hadn't spoken much to her if anything at all but seemed like she was a responsible and caring person, although sometimes the types of characters and people coming and going in and out of her flat were questionable sometimes. With most of her guests being young men or in their 20's and spending roughly about 20 minutes in her flat and then leaving, Mr Warehouse and I had our own ideas about what potentially they may be getting up to in such a short amount of time and I am sure you will make your own mind up also!

Saturday Morning however I was awoken at 6:45am by the iron gate at the side of our Alley-walk-way we shared with our new Neighbour being forcibly banged against the wall, clattering and clanging every time. Hoping it might have been the wind or rain bashing it against the wall periodically I rolled over, enjoying the free space that Mr Warehouse had given me when he went to work in the small hours of that morning. Not long after the clattering I heard a massive argument ensue which included grown men, about our age, yelling and shouting at each other. Getting up and out of bed to see what was going on I peered out of my bedroom window only to see fighting. 
"I've just buried my fucking Dad man and if your not careful I'll fucking bury you too" one lad shouted at another before storming off down the street, continuing the fight and even pushing and shoving each other on to the parked cars on the street. I heard the neighbours from upstairs shout down for them to pack it in. To be fair to them they did shut up for a short while before it erupted again, this time leading to glass bottles being thrown and smashed on the street outside our bedroom window. I could only assume that this was a drunken fuelled argument or spat that has happened between our new neighbours and/or her friends. 

Now honestly I don't mind the parties or even the copious amounts of lads that are in and out of that flat on a weekly basis, I am not bothered or fazed by this at all. However I am, I think, understandably pissed when I am awoken so early on a weekend morning to World War III kicking off outside my bedroom window. Thinking that there wasn't much left to do apart from just simply get up and have a coffee and maybe breakfast, I called Mr Warehouse and spoke to him about Jeremy Kyle Live that has just started outside our flat. Mr. Warehouse continued to explain that this had apparently been going since the very early hours over the morning when at three in the morning when he was awoken by our upstairs neighbours yelling down to the rowdy youths in order to keep the noise down as it was a quiet family street and we were all trying to sleep. When the Bae then went to work just a couple of hours later at 5 o'clock it was still going and whilst the music was quiet there was quite a lot of loud talking and running back and forth along the side of our Alley-walk-way. 

After the glass bottles were smashed outside on the street, there seemed to be a bit of a clean up operation in which the debris was cleared as best as possible, but with what appeared to be a spliff in one hand holding a red Cup probably containing a good measure of alcohol and the other hand in a desperate attempt to try and Sweep up what glass they could see with their beer Goggles on there is certainly a lot left to be desired. Flicking the kettle and rubbing my eyes I thank my lucky stars that I had my dressing gown on as two police officers were also called to the incident, I can only assume from the other residents on the street that were also awoken. Sipping my coffee as I watched some shit Saturday morning TV, all of which with one eye on the garden gate leading into our new neighbours flat of course. 

After summoning all my might to get dressed, I took the Pooch for a walk only to find that the glass was scarcely cleaned up and was still a bit of a mess, something which could also cause other children or other pets on the street harm not to mention possibly even puncturing Mr. Warehouse's bike when he comes home. I also noticed that because of the constant banging and slamming of the gate that our little sign is broken which welcomed visitors and warned them of our pup. Now whilst it cost under a fiver I still didn't appreciate that our property was being treated in this way and with such disrespect as well. 

Mr. Warehouse came home a few hours later and was the most angriest I have ever seen him. Seething, he ranted loudly about how disrespectful, rude and inconsiderate they were being. But what could we do? I had contacted my landlord a couple of hours after it had all kicked off and within minutes he had come storming round to the property, fuming that he was being taken for a ride and seemingly being made out to look like a mug. But now there were just as many people as before coming and going and coming back again, now even just standing around and having conversations in our garden. I felt quite uncomfortable and judging from the amount of alcohol that was going into the flat and comings and goings, I very much doubted that this would be ending anytime soon. 

Messaging my landlord again in one last ditch attempt to try and get something sorted before it's all got out of hand again. As before, within a few moments of me sending the message there was a car screeching to a halt and parking up outside. Not thinking much of that I saw my landlord storm right through past our flat and into the our new neighbours garden, banging on the glass and ushering for the lass to come out. 
"Woah who the fuck are you mate!" one bloke yelled obviously upset that his potential Beau had another older man banging at her window. 
"I'm the landlord of this place"  he answered as he marched the girl to the front of the property where they had a heated discussion, I can only assume (because I did not have my window open - Silly me) that she was being read the riot act and as a result would have to be on her best behaviour in order to keep a roof over her head. 

I think all of that had happened on Saturday without my Approval In Principle / AIP and Mr Warehouse and buy in the process of moving soon, it's almost certainly would have made my mood even worse. Not long now!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx