Deposits And Departure Gates!

Heyy, 

In a few days from now, I will be probably writing from you in the hotel lobby or maybe by the pool of our holiday apartment in the centre of Malaga, Spain. Sipping on cocktails and sunning myself in the warmer weather I will certainly be glad of the break, especially since it has been a couple of years since mine and Mr Warehouse's Tenerife break! What with saving for a house, my mental health issues and every spare penny going towards our new home Mr Warehouse and I decided against a summer break in 2018. That being said it was not exactly planned this year either, what with the wedding less than a year and a half away now I expected to be ploughing every penny we had not only into our new home but also towards the wedding of our dreams. That would have been the case until Mr Warehouse gave me an ultimatum back in the dreary depths of March. "What will you do with the money?"

It all started when we moved out of our little starter flat in Bedford town centre. We had just received our new keys when we had noted that days earlier paid our rent for the next month up until the end of November 2018. 
"Don't suppose you could give us half of it back and we can be out in a fortnight?" I asked my Landlord cheekily. He didn't agree, although I knew he wouldn't. I had, along with my new fiance, a month to move our things out and clean the property ready for the Landlord's new tenants. Clearing most of our stuff in one weekend we made sure to give the flat a good solid three days worth of cleaning, scrubbing every skirting board, every wall, every tile to make sure it was spotless. 

I had been relying on my £400.00 deposit money coming back to me before we had bought a lot of the home stuff we needed and as Christmas approached it would have been nice to maybe go somewhere or just have a more enjoyable festive period, especially after the year Mr Warehouse and I had just battled. And on checking out with the Landlord everything seemed to go swimmingly. There were a few items that needed to be collected and taken care of furniture wise however on returning the keys the Landlord mentioned that the carpet may need changing and he agreed that he would find a few quotes and be in touch with a price so I knew how much of my deposit would be used, something we reluctantly agreed to. As the festivities got underway Mr Warehouse and I was able to even steal a weekend away to Bournemouth with our eldest. Soon enough Christmas arrived as did New Years and without a moments thought I realised it had been well over six weeks and I had still to hear anything from my ex-landlord regarding my deposit and what he thought was appropriate for a carpet that needed replacing waaaay before I moved in. 

I called and called and called but nothing; texting every time I left a voice mail, just in case he was out of the county or not able to answer a call. After several weeks I tried emailing, however the email I had just kept bouncing back. Hell, even Mr Warehouse had gone round to the Flat after work some nights just on the off chance he may be there but still nothing. Clutching at straws at the beginning of January this year I called the estate agents that originally dealt with me in letting the penthouse flat in the same block. They were helpful and put me in contact with the DPS, Deposit Protection Scheme. Since April 2007, a landlord must put the deposit for the property you are renting into a government-backed tenancy deposit scheme (TDP). This gives the landlord or letting agent's assurance that the tenants will meet the terms of the tenancy agreement, not cause damage to the property and pay the rent/bills. 

Finding out where my deposit was the first thing, next was trying to get it back. I found out, again through the helpful lettings agent, that my landlord must have returned my deposit within 10 days of us both agreeing how much you’ll get back. Since it was January and I had heard absolutely nothing since I handed back my keys there was only one thing left to do - Raise a dispute. I was told it would be pretty easy since it was clear that I had made every effort to try any other means of getting this resolved and had the texts and phone calls to prove it. And so I put pen to paper (well fingers to keyboard really) and filled in the online application form with ease. A few days later I had a response and was told that the Landlord / Agent would have a right of reply and that this would be allowed up until the beginning of February, three-weeks away. Should what I thought the inevitable would be and that there was no response from the Landlord then the DPS would look in favour to the tenant and in most cases award the full amount back to me. I was anxious but confident I had done everything I could. 

Within a day or two of logging a deposit dispute, I had a text from my ex-landlord, asking if we could meet at the property the following day to discuss the deposit issue and collect the "piles of post that was building up". I explained that the following day was not convenient and since I had been trying to get ahold of him for months now that he would have to wait until the weekend when Mr Warehouse and I would be free. I never heard back. 
Friday afternoon of that week came and I received another text message asking about the time Mr Warehouse and I would be meeting my ex-landlord at the property. I explained that since I had not had confirmation that I had assumed it was inconvenient and had made other plans for the weekend. I had instead agreed that I could meet him at the property, along with my fiance after work that day but that we needed to be finished by a certain time as we had somewhere to be, a lie but I didn't want to be waiting around for hours. 

Incidentally, on arriving at the flat, rushing there from work in 4pm traffic, my ex-landlord still did not show up for a further forty-minutes, only to arrive and announce he had forgotten the keys so needed to return home to fetch them, delaying the meet by a further half hour or so. During which time I took a look through the windows of my once precious abode. I was horrified to see that in the darkness of that January evening my ex-landlord had completely decked out my old gaff with new carpets and even painted the walls. Terrified he was going to try and charge me all of this, I thought it best to call the TDS and get some advice on how best to proceed, considering I had already filed a dispute. They explained that despite the ex-landlord fully fitting the flat out he would not be able to put that charge to me, even if they were cashmere carpets and golden paint (of which they were certainly not)! 

It was at this point that I also found out to my shock that legally my ex-landlord could not ask for any of the deposit to be used on the downstairs flat. You see, when I first moved into the block I rented the top floor 1-bedroom apartment and loved every moment of it. I paid a £400.00 deposit and then a year or so later when the ground floor property came up for rent I initiated a conversation to my Landlord and asked if I could have the first refusal. He agreed and since I had been a good tenant and always paid my rent on time with never any issues he agreed that the deposit for the penthouse apartment would simply be used for the ground floor one and so nothing more was said. Although that had not been the case as the Landlord have never moved the deposits over and for the sake of a letter at the end of the numerals (I moved from A to B), there was nothing he could do. 

And so as the van pulled into our old street again for the second time that evening I was relieved to know I had the upper hand and that every penny of that £400.00 I scrimped together for back in 2013 was coming back to me one way or another. A snotty and rather uncomfortable chat with the ex-landlord ensued, something in which I sound recorded on my phone simply for evidence should I have needed it. He accused Mr Warehouse and I of not cleaning the flat and leaving it in a "diabolical state" claiming that there were holes left in walls, paint jobs messy (from the tenant before me I must add) and that the carpets were threadbare and in need of replacement since they smelt like dog and were damaged. Offended I explained about how difficult it was to get hold of him and he brushed it off stating that it was "no excuse for how you left it". Some bully tactics took place and at one point he asked us about coming back to clean the oven, which in all fairness we had forgotten totally about until he brought it up. 
"Well," I started, knowing I was fully going to fucking win this. "Considering we had not been able to reach you for several weeks that had turned into months, I was not wholly confident you were going to turn up this evening and even then I was not sure what to expect so, therefore, have not come equipped with any cleaning tools, however, if you would like both of us to come back at a later date and clean this and anything else we would be more than happy to do so." I finished. This caught him off guard completely and maybe expected me to roll over and just agree to be billed. It was at this point he made some excuse about not wanting the hassle and that he would just arrange it himself. On getting down to the crunch however my ex-landlord reeled off the long list of thing we had left for him to clear and clean up, mainly redecorating works which needed to be done really in order for the property to be let again in a reasonable state. 

"I have had to pay out over £400.00 for the work I have done here and I would say I am being fair in only asking for half of it back from your deposit? Don't you agree?" the ex-landlord ushered to Mr Warehouse. My fiance, big and strong, chest puffed out like a peacock stood his ground and reiterated what I had said time and time again stating that this was out of our hands and that it was going through a deposit dispute with the TDS. 
"Well, we only have to tell them what we want them to know," the ex-landlord said slimily trying to claw back some money from his crappy paint job and cheap carpet. 
"Besides, who are they more likely to believe?" he ended. Then, awkward silence. 
"We need to think about it" I ended the long period of silence with explaining it was now a joint decision and that I needed to discuss it with my new fiance and come back to him knowing full well I wouldn't and would eventually walk away with my money, rightfully mine. 

And true to that, I did. A few weeks later I received an email in my inbox stating that despite timeline and numerous attempts to contact the Landlord /Agent even past the cut-off date for a right of reply, I was being awarded my full deposit back to me. The money landed in my account within a few hours. A couple of days after the TDS settled the claim I received a call from my ex-landlord. I was in the hairdresser's chair so could have answered but in any instance, I would have been at work and so screened the call. I listened to the polite and slightly sinister voice mail, demanding I contact him as a matter of urgency regarding the "damage" to his property and to discuss the "deposit issue" suffice to say that I did not return his call. Instead, I blocked his number and booked a holiday! Malaga here we come!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Magician's Assistant: A Master of Surprise's and Loosing Things!

Hello one and all, 

As my phone rang I was pleased my friends had made it, even if they were a couple of hours late. Answering the door and greeting them from their car Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb waddled over with their stuff for our sleepover, and standing my communal porch outside my flat sparking up a cigarette before the dreaded three-flights of stairs to my loft apartment. I smiled to myself as I knew that this would probably be the last time we had to brave those steps. 

"Why are all your lights off?" Miss Tweedle-Dee asked curiously. 
"I don't know? Just haven't put them on since I got in from work. The TV is on though, cant you see the light?" I answered swiftly as to throw them off the scent with a cool yet panicked response. Changing the subject quickly we spoke about work and the weather and general niceties before stubbing out our fags. Welcoming them in I muttered about having to muster the courage to go up the stairs again. As my friends took to the steps I braced myself for what was to come. 

"Guys. I have something to tell you!?" I said, face splitting into a smile that I quickly erased before they had a chance to look round. 
"Oh my god, what is it now?" Miss Tweedle-Dee asked, shocked. 
"Are you pregnant?" Miss Tweedle-Dumb asked frantic to know. No. I was not. 
"Are you engaged?" She asked again desperate to discover my little lie. Nope. I am still happily a girlfriend to Mr. Warehouse. Suddenly the lights timed out as my bewildered bestie's stood wondering together in the darkness. 
"OK well at least turn on the lights, I need to see your face when you tell me this." Miss Tweedle-Dee said reaching out for the switch. 
"I have a confession to make and its something I have been hiding for a while" I noted, building up suspense. "I don't actually live here any-more!" 

Confused I smiled mysteriously and as I was met by a barrage of abuse, questions and general foul language of confusion and non-comprehension I casually descended the stairs for the last time. Wiggling the key into the ground floor flat I turned and welcomed my best friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, into my new home. 

Shrieks and squeals came from both of them as they ran around, exploring and searching everywhere shouting and whooping all along. "Oh my goodness you have a garden. Oh wow a really big kitchen. Look at those twinkle lights. Amazing princess canopy bed! New wardrobe! How much more space we have for fun and games! Look at all the room!" and asking as many questions their little mouths could talk - How much is this more? Has Mr. Warehouse moved in with you? What is the bills like? Have you got a bath now rather than a car-wash of a shower? Are you getting a dog?!

After about half-hour of running round, being noisy and rambunctious, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb settled down and we talked for most the evening about my big reveal and the biggest surprise I have ever pulled on them. Laughing and giggling along I am glad that they were not mad, just overly excited and happy that I had moved into a 'big girls house'. And so that was Friday night. Soon we all headed to bed and awoke the next morning ready for some holiday shopping and coffee with cakes soon to be joined by a joyful Mr. Warehouse. But the joy was not to be had for long. Oh no ... 

---

Sunday I had planned a day out for Mr. Warehouse's birthday which was just last month. I had it all figured out and it would be a wonderful sparkling day with no hiccups! Sadly this was not true. Boarding the not-so-fast-train to London we struggled to find seats so settled in a walk-through-corridor with two flip-down seats. Making light of this we chose to pretend we were in our own private carriage with two entrances and windows either side. Lucky really for the 0944 to St. Pancras! Alighting at our final destination we headed to the tubes and straight to our first point of interest - Piccadilly Circus but more specifically the wondrous Ripley's Believe It Or Not! London! Entering the venue we handed over our tickets and began our walking tour of the exhibitions and museum artefacts. Coming round one corner I noticed something spectacular. A full size replica of the Titanic made out of matchsticks. Next to it was a tank. filled with the same icy cold water that would have attacked the lost victims of that fateful night in April 1912. -2 degrees. Below freezing. Fascinated by the Ship's gruesome tale and all things Titanica I took no hesitation in plunging my left hand into the tank of cold, needle-stabbing pain. After thirty-seconds or so I could no longer stand it and wiggling my fingers in an effort to keep warm just made it worse. Freeing my palm from the Chlorine water I was thankful and glad that I could get out of that situation and get warm again, unlike the hundreds and thousands of people that died, alone in deep blackness of that starry night. 

"Lets have a competition to see how long we can keep our hands in?!" Mr. Warehouse said, rolling up his sleeves. "But to make it fair use your other hand as your left one has already had a dip."
And so as I took off and placed on the side my precious Alurring Brilliance ring from Pandora I bought whilst in Las Vegas in March this year and Sterling Silver and Cubic Zirconia ring, very similar to the Droplets ring by Pandora that I bought from a little boutique in Lyon, France whilst there not even a fortnight ago. Talking my way through the competition with Mr. Warehouse I was determined not to be beaten but alas I had to get out after again less than a minute. Drying off my hand and grabbing my bag I moved onto the next thing to see and eventually Mr. Warehouse and I made it back to the beginning. Taking a walk down to Buckingham Palace we walked and talked about the evenings entertainment of a Magic Show in London's West End. But as I stepped out across the red gravelly sand of The Mall I couldn't feel my rings on my right hand. Where are they?! Pockets?! Back Pockets!? Handbag?! I knew though where I had left them. Frantically I called  Ripley's Believe It Or Not! London, praying to god that they had been handed in by some kind, kind person. But after what seemed like an eternity on hold the sorrow female voice returned to say that nothing had been handed in and nothing was found at the Titanic freeze tank. Mourning my beloved jewellery I spent the next hour or so moping around. I tried to blame it on Mr. Warehouse, saying that if he hadn't asked me to compete with him in a stupid game of "me verses you" then I would not have taken them off ergo not leaving them on the side for some thieving little bugger to pinch them. 

Beyond sadness and only barely consolable I was taken to a posh Champagne Bar overlooking Trafalgar Square. Comforted by Macarons and milkshake I was reflective on how much of an idiot I was but also how I did not want to spoil such a lovely birthday day trip with Mr. Warehouse. Continuing with the days activities, albeit slightly subdued in happiness, we continued through some more typical tourist hotspots to the four-star, Kingsway Hall Hotel in Covent Garden for dinner. Moping still and with my phone battery dying Mr. Warehouse had a cracking idea. Lets just get pissed. And so he took me to the best bar we knew in town - Adventure Bar, Covent Garden. We had been here before on our mini-break over Valentines day earlier in the year and fell in love with the place always remembering fondly that time we went to London and went for spontaneous cocktails that got us very drunk indeed. I feel now though that it is somewhat a right of passage whereby whenever we now come to London, Adventure Bar, Covent Garden will be another tourist must-see. 

Gathering ourselves together we finally came to our end stop of the day - The Leicester Square Theatre to see Tim Barnes in Something Fishy: An evening of magic and wonder. A tincy-wincy little room, blacked out and holding only around thirty people we as an audience were shown a mirage of card tricks, fire magic, rope tomfoolery and surprises left both me and Mr. Warehouse mouths wide and aghast with questionable curiosity. Soon there was an assistant to be had and like the great Debbie McGee I stepped into the limelight and provided myself for the crowd. The magician, Tim Barnes, handed me a piece of paper with a prediction of which animal would be on a card I had just selected from a bag of children's picture cards. It was a rat. Doing as he said I placed it carefully inside a tiny black box and closed shut making sure the audience saw I had locked it tight. Swanning back over I was asked a series of questions and was given some information about animals before being asked to disclose my animal card. Then I was asked if I could retrieve the prediction from the little black box. Unlocking the catch and raising the lid I pondered on how I would unveil this ending to the anticipating crowd of people. but as I lifted the door of the box out popped a little nose. Then a whisker. Then an ear. Handling him gently I held up the live and very wriggly rat named Fifi. Black and White patches covered her body with silky smooth fur and as I petted her I wanted to take her home, imagining all the fun we would have in my new home! 

Unfortunately Mr. Warehouse does not care for rodents, especially the ratty variety and jumped out of his skin as I raised the little cutie for all to see. Amazed and bewildered at how Tim Barnes had done it the audience looked on as I guessed that the small seem at the bottom of the box housed this little critter until the magical moment! Enjoying the lights and enthusiasm from the room of faces I reluctantly handed back the rat named Fifi and took my seat once more. 

There were up's and down's but I enjoyed myself and especially when the best bit of the whole day was only £12.00 spent which is equivalent to two Starbucks and a muffin if your lucky. All in all I suppose it was a good day, apart from leaving my rings behind. Loosing something precious and meaningful that has not much monetary value but personal value in shed loads is horrible, and especially so when you know that you are the type of person to go and hand something like that back in so as to be retrieved by its rightful owner. But at least maybe I can look forward to brightening my mood slightly this week as it is my birthday on Friday. And whilst I will be turning the ripe old age of twenty-four I will certainly be partying and drinking my way through my first forty-eight hours! Bring on Mid-twenties!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

When Is The Right Time?!

Evening All, 

So last week was all about getting pissed up on cheap, flat cider and celebrating life with Mr. Warehouse and his family. And after a long, drawn out and strenuous week at work the past few days have been very relaxing and much more chilled.

From Friday night right through 'til this afternoon when I finished work I have stayed at Mr. Warehouse's home he shares with his mother, although she was away this weekend so Mr. Warehouse had invited me over to spend the weekend and look after his middle-aged Golden Retriever. A part of me did not even really realise until Saturday evening that we essentially were playing 'House'. And why not? Throughout the past nine months of my relationship with this man he has spent the majority of it with me either in my flat or at his mom's. But its strange when two people are just left to their own devices in a big old empty house and nothing much to see or do. 

Not going to lie I did enjoy it, but I soon found niggles that eventually if given time and the lack of space would burrow into my sole with the drive to constantly get on my tits! Like the way that Mr. Warehouse will do stuff he is not suppose to be doing even though you have asked him a trillion and one times not to. Or the way that Mr. Warehouse leaves his shit lying around. Even the way that my dearest Mr. Warehouse butters his toast before adding in a condiment like jam or spread can easily burn on my wick if I am already in a foul-arse mood. 

You see the thing is that when you live by yourself, and, single ladies you know what I mean - Its not the way that someone is around you, its the fact that sometimes you just cant be your true self. You can't always frog it in boy-boxers watching 'Jeremy Kyle' eating a whole pack of Pink Wafers to yourself and realising that the itchy thing on you bottom was just a rogue Sugar Puff from earlier. Nor can you fart loudly, laugh and be outwardly proud of such an expression because you are a lady whom should not do things like that, let alone still be sniggering about it twenty-minutes later. And alas you cannot leave rubbish everywhere with the intent that one day you will pick it up. Ahh yes! The joy's of living alone. 

But don't get me wrong an extra pair of hands can be useful, especially if you live on the top floor apartment with zero lifts. Carrying the shopping up stairs, taking out the rubbish and generally helping out around the place can be a huge help and beneficial to both parties in the long run. I suppose this week's post really started last week when Mr. Warehouse and I were out with my father and his girlfriend for Daddies birthday dinner and in true squaddie style my Dad just blurts out - "So when are you moving in with my Daughter!"

Gob-smacked and totally taken aback by the phrase let alone the idea I jumped in before anyone else had a chance to open their trappy little beaks and reiterated as I had done many times before that Mr. Warehouse was not moving in, not now and not any time in the foreseeable future. I enjoy my freedom. Its the only thing I really have left. I'm not single any more so instead I have my flat when I can grunge out for a whole weekend only venturing to the outside world in order to buy bread and milk.  can be myself in those tiny little slanted walls of my penthouse one-bed. Don't get me wrong I have thought about it, even looking into the possibility of moving somewhere bigger in a few years time to accommodate such a growing and developing relationship. Yes. I suppose the idea in the future is a good one but right now ... Certainly not! 

I mean where in my telescopic flat would his boy 'stuff' go?! The Xbox that is hardly works and even then never used yet held onto as the last claim to being a young man. The never-ending pile of dirty laundry that will inevitably be picked up by me, an ongoing sock vs. pants issue. Pointless letters, papers, payslips and rubbish strewn everywhere. Hmm, yes, not my idea of homely bliss. But then again if you asked Mr. Warehouse I am sure that he would say the same - A continuous stream of washing up, food that is slightly fluffy in the fridge and scatter cushions everywhere! 

In my flat right now their is barely enough room for me and my amazing personality let alone two, and whilst I like the idea that one day I will be a big girl with my own home and garden, I have to realise that it wont come along unless I suck it up and accept sharing. After all isn't that something that our parents all taught us. Yes that pile of washing looks a chore but when two people do it together and work through some of the things that happened in their days making small talk it will be done in next to no time! I don't know, I suppose after popping over to Mr. Warehouse's Brothers (Whose Fiancée is the same age as me!) new House it made me slightly Home-Broody. I think as I sat on their sofa in the three story town house I realised if I want to one day own my own home then I will need to get a shifty on and start saving. But that is light-years away, right now I am happy being the Queen of my own (rented) Palace and I am in no mood of down-grading any time soon, especially after the last time I moved in with someone!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Electrifying Discovery!

Morning Everyone, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Easter Exploits

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Hello there,

Hope you all are doing well and have had a lovely Easter and an excellent Bank Holiday weekend. I m currently writing to you from the comfort of a cream love seat of Grandma Cheese's bungalow near Southend, Essex. I have come down with Mr. Cheese to spend a few days relaxing and enjoying what wonderful weather we have. Currently I have the boyfriend well trained and making dinner. Duck is on the menu tonight!

I have been up to a lot since we last spoke and thanks to all my hard work looking for work itself I have finally got a new job. After attending an interview at a carpet cleaning company last Friday and impressing the staff so much invited me back for a second stage interview.  So less than seventy-two hours after my initial contact with the company and I knew I had it pretty much in the bag. With a salary larger than what I was on at my last place of employment and a commute that isn't nearly as expensive or time-consuming I know I shall be much happier here. It also means that Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I can have another hilarious holiday this summer. And so this time next week I shall be writing about my first day in my new job.

Other than having a horrendous case of influenza and being very poorly for the most part of the week I can now feel myself slowly getting better and better which is just as well given my love for a long weekend. Friday was spent entertaining my auntie and nanna from my mother's side of the family whilst desperately trying to keep my nine-year-old cousin preoccupied so he wouldn't spy all the goodies I have in my cupboards.  It was nice to have them over and even nicer that I could host them in what I still call my new flat despite being in my fourth month of residence there. I like how gobsmacked and astonished people are when they see it and all the wonderful gushing comments they make too, especially when its the side of the family that I have least contact with. After they had left with promises to catch up again soon I called the girls to invite them over disregarding the major flu I had. As night fell and Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got into their pyjamas I decided to take a turn for the worst. Joining Miss Tweedle-Dumb outside whilst she puffed away on a cigarette I could feel I wasn't right. My legs were woozy and my head was heavy. Before I knew it I had my head sandwiched between my two wheelie-bins throwing up the prawn crackers Miss Tweedle-Dee had just fed me. After that I was swiftly escorted back upstairs to my flat and tucked in bed only to spend the rest of the night in a cold sweat with a sore back and being serenaded by my two best friends with the soundtrack to Disneys Frozen.

Saturday I plodded round Bedford town centre with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb smelling candles we couldn't smell due to our cold's and trying desperately not to look too ill. Later that evening I went to visit Mr. Cheese and his family at their large house in the countryside surrounding Bedfordshire. I attempted food but struggled to handle a few mouthful's before calling it a day. Slipping into some less than attractive pyjamas back at my flat Saturday night I was sure that Mr. Cheese would not want to have sex with me and although the following morning he admitted to being up for it he had decided not to try it on as I was feeling poorly. Safe to say though that sex the following morning woke me up and has left my head with two large lumps just the right width matching the width between the spokes on my black, iron-framed bed.
I lacked appreciation for the slow Sunday that followed mine and Mr. Cheese's rampant morning cuddled between the sheets watching property programmes but nevertheless was a nice afternoon spent in the company of his family including Mr. Cheese's warm mother, entertaining father and boisterous younger brother's. Football yet again was on the box which in turn meant I was slightly neglected on the affection front but boyfriend soon made up for it when I was presented with my Easter bunny - A Reeses Peanut Butter Bunny no less! Not only was this but I was also gifted a large Yankee Candle that smelt of laundry and some very bright summery flowers all packaged in a colourful gift bag that I will no doubt use at a later date. I was spoilt by the family too with a huge white chocolate egg the size of my head. I have yet to bring these home to my flat as Mr. Cheese and I headed to Southend from the family home after dinner leaving my humongous egg and flowers behind. As a result I have taken the brave step of inviting Momma Cheese round to the flat to drop off my gifts and for coffee so I can gloat about my abode a little more this week.

Today though I have felt a lot better in terms of my influenza but maybe that has been helped by the fact that nostalgia aside, sex in a single bed is still as good as it was when I was eighteen! And yes that is the age when I lost my virginity! After a morning of nearly beating Mr. Cheese at golf in my first ever encounter with the sport we headed to the sea front for a wander and some much anticipated sea food delight's. I also met an old friend of Mr. Cheese's from his teenage years and so the three of us wasted our afternoon drinking Pimm's by the waters edge in a pub beer garden. Of course ice cream was consumed and a lovely sunny evening followed to where I am now on in the warmth of a cosy, old-fashioned lounge and as the rain gently patters on the windows I can sense that my lovingly prepared duck dinner is nearly ready.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Completed Puzzle

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

 Evening All, 

So this week I have indulged a little in some social activities and spending some time catching up with dear friends and loved ones. Friday evening I had an unexpected invitation to a comedy night thing with Miss Tweedle-Dee and her family. The genius that she is bought them all a ticket to a comedy show on the same night at a local venue back home in South Bedfordshire. The clever little bunny even bought an extra ticket so she could bring someone else along to endure her families company. However it was somewhat on the contrary for me as we have been friends for more than a decade I know her family pretty well and as a result get along with them like I would my own family. 

As I approached our local bar, I could see that Miss Tweedle-Dee had already had enough and wanted her bed and this was fully authenticated by her posture in telling of her long journey home from work on public transport. If I was honest, despite being really up for a good giggle I would have been quite happy to grab a kebab on the way home to watch a scary film. But Miss Tweedle-Dee and I couldn't back out now and so we all started to head over to the theatre, her slightly boozed up family staggering behind. Sitting in our seats waiting for the show to start we fretted how Nanny Tweedle-Dee would get down the umpteen stairs that descended into the busy room. Giggling and making jokes even before the professionals had come on stage I was glad to be spending time with Miss Tweedle-Dee as it was uncommon the her and myself spent QT alone time. 

Sinking into bed beside her that night I resumed natural position of big spoon whilst she cried about a cruise she wasn't on being little spoon. I couldn't help but wonder as she wailed away why anyone would want to spend nearly two-grand on a four day cruise in the middle of a scary deep body of water surrounded by screaming adolescents, two Canadian twin lesbians and a flaming haired ginger lass from Paramore. How anyone could justify that money in any sense for anything other than something critical is beyond me. Despite this I comforted my friend and consoled her until I fell asleep.

Saturday was spent with my Dad and his Girlfriend when we trawled the shops looking for more stuff for the flat and then topping it all off by a pub lunch in summery weather by a lake. After dropping me back home and before leaving Dad and the girlfriend came up to the flat to see what it was all about. Blown away by my hard work and my home-making skills they were shocked into near silence. The Girlfriend was very impressed and I felt that as I showed her around my little abode it only made our bond even closer than before. Taking me to one side and peering out from my huge rooftop skylight she said that this was perfect and would be an ideal set up for myself and a another. I knew what she was getting at and with some things preying heavy on my mind the thought pleasantly crossed through my head making an imprint I can still envision as I sit here at my little dining table and write to you all now.

You see over the past week or so I have had some reflection and I came to the conclusion that for some very special reasons life has improved in recent months and I am now happier than I could have ever imagined only a few years ago. I never thought that life could ever be this good as what it is now. Life is perfect. Everything has slotted into place and I am feeling myself slowly become an even more wonderful person because of it all. I have finally got life on track; Employment that is set to last at least a year and probably more with opportunities to travel the world and learn new things. Something I can see myself doing for many years to come and may finally be a calling in life for me. I would like to think that my work colleagues would be people I would cherish for years to come and share all the daily formalities that life shall bring. 

I have my little home now that is perfect for me and I am sure will bore many memories for me in the long years to come in which I plan to dwell in it. My father and his girlfriend whom over the past couple of years I have felt has been there for me more than ever and has made more of an effort in getting to know me and bond with me than my real mother ever had in the seventeen years I cohabited with her and the family before divorce tore us apart. The Girlfriend now is such a mammoth part of my life that I can't ever see her not being in it. She really is the mother-figured I never had and someone I know I can rely upon and talk to about anything and everything. 

And last but not least, I also have friends that only god (if he existed) could bless me with. We have like all of us had our ups and downs, some more than most but what I really love about my little entourage is that they will always find a way to make light of a situation - Even if that is the fact that your standing in the middle of a Spanish super-mall having a temper tantrum because no-one wants to come and see a pretty bag with you regardless of just spending nigh-on seven hours looking at make-up that even the locals don't buy. I wouldn't want to spend my most embarrassing moments being sick, panicking about pregnancies, wolf-whistling at men on the motorway or falling over in chicken shops and getting stuck behind bins with any other people. Without their love and support over the years I don't know where I would be. 

So now I brace myself for I feel that something spectacular may just be on the horizon ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Move, A Promotion And A Dating Dilemma

Hiya, 

So after last week's fiasco involving the ever-alluring Mr. Cheese, my life in other areas has well surpassed my expectations. 

Ripping myself from my bed sheets I realised horribly that it was a Thursday morning again and not a Friday as I had hoped for. Asking myself what I should wear today I threw on a skirt and shirt combo and headed out the door to my car share. The day itself ticked along nicely until lunch whereby I had planned a lunch-date with my Dad's girlfriend who works just round the corner from me. Almost instantly conversation turned to Mr. Cheese and his disappointing absence from my world. Spending nearly an hour consuming ourselves with men problems I needed to return to my office and so we left. Upon arrival at my desk everything seemed normal. As the time dragged on more people started returning from their own lunch breaks. I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed people gossipping and a slow buzz took over the accounting department as mouths were twitching with a hum of knowledge. Now a few weeks ago it was apparent that our Administrator would be going on maternity leave very shortly to have a bouncy baby boy (well I'm hoping that they don't test him on the bouncy front, pretty sure that would kill the little mite). The company had started interviews for her role and I decided I would apply. Only I was too late. By the time I got to my manager's office to talk to her, the vacancy had been filled. No worries though, I already had a job I loved and would apply for something else if and when it came up. 

Within a few days there was a new face in the office and someone new to share the banter. Nevertheless a fortnight later here I was, at my desks, my fellow workers getting worked up about something. All of a sudden a colleague appeared by my side. Nothing unusual. "Probably some question I could help with" I thought, although I was secretly shitting myself thinking maybe I had done something wrong and that was the end of the line for me! Quite the opposite really. After turning to address the slim-figured women I was asked if I wanted the position of Credit Control Administrator? Stunned I asked why as the position had already been filled. It was then I found out what everyone was nattering about. The lady whom had been taken on in favour of 'yours truly' had disappeared and it was thought that she had simply done a runner on her lunch break, never to return again. As a grin started splitting my face, I knew I had bagged myself that illusive permanent job I had been searching for. Well for a year at least. Over the coming days I was told that the company would match my salary and I would benefit from holiday pay, sick pay and the option to join a pension scheme. Now truth be told most women tend not to return after a baby but even if the mom-to-be does come back I will have been grateful for the experience and appreciative for the opportunities it has given me. Today was my first day shadowing and I now have a further fortnight to gain all knowledge before the labour ward calls on the young-parent. 

So that's the work life, now onto the lurve life! Since the separation from suave Mr. Cheese, I have found myself bombarded with suitors from every angle; Dating websites, apps and just generally meeting people. Just so happens that between moving house, socialising with friends, going out with work, unpacking and bagging myself a career I have also managed to finally squeeze in a date. Whom you may ask? That little fortuitous Mr. Rockclimber. Following a lengthy conversation consisting of messages, SnapChat's and the odd text over the past three-months we finally decided enough was enough and that we needed to meet each other. 

Wrapping up warm and making sure that the new place was clean and tidy I forced myself into the cold, nearly-midnight air of Bedfordshire. "What are you doing?" I thought to myself. Truth be told I didn't know. What I did know was that it was very cold and I was meeting a man who I had been talking to for the past twelve weeks in a pub a short walk from my new flat at a very late hour in the evening. Upon meeting we shared a hug and ventured into the warmth for a beer. Conversation of good sorts followed - Food, the weather, friends and some funny little anecdotes I have also shared with you lot. But I think it was safe to say that I had pretty much made up my mind as soon as we locked eyes. Whilst I yearn to move on from the indecisive Mr. Cheese I am unable to. I wanted so much for Mr. Rockclimber to be a welcome distraction and a new lease of life for my young, wild and lustful intentions. Regardless of this fact he did indeed stay over that night, purely and simply because he was unable to get back home until the following morning. To answer your burning question - Yes we did. Strangely it was everything that I would have asked from a bed-partner; Romantic, hard, rough and yet so unbelievably soft and gentle with his hands that I swooned under his touch. But nothing. Nothing at all. I wanted to feel something. But all this encounter do for me was make me realise that my lactose-intolerance is not cured by finding someone else. Sadly I feel that Mr. Rockclimber and I wont work out. 

In fact, I wonder if I ever will sometimes - Meet the right one that is. Life was so uncomplicated and smooth running with Mr. Cheese it hard to imagine him not in it any more. I wish so hard that I could be simple and just "go with the flow" (Maaaaan) but I can't. I'm a girl. A women. I like cuddles and snuggles and bubbles of the belly variety. Mr. Cheese and I had a love-story to rival Disney; But instead of skipping off happily-ever-after, I'm indulging myself in any possible activity to take my mind off him - Secretly hoping he'll be beneath my window one day.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sister's Before Mister's

Heyy Guys,

And yet another roller coaster of a week draws to a close. And yet after all that, I have been able to bounce back faster than you could say 'windscreen'. I have a new job. Again. But not just that. If you look as to where this was written you can see that it was signed, sealed and delivered from my new bachelorette pad. I am so happy that it has finally got to this point and have been so busy unpacking and sorting everything out that I nearly forgot to write. Allow me to explain my week ...

So after being a bit down in the dumps about having to quit my last job just purely on the distance I thought that my dream of finally moving in was slipping through my fingers again. Then late Wednesday afternoon I went into some local recruitment agencies and spoke to them, only to walk out of one of their offices having landed a customer service role at a windscreen replacement company just outside of Bedford town centre. Now granted it is only a temporary contract for a couple of months and so is nothing permanent by a long shot, but there is always the chance they could take me on permanently. Hopefully they will so I can stop searching for job's as it is driving me crazy just looking at pages and pages of jobs that have probably been advertised for weeks and have possibly already been filled. If not then there is always something on offer. And I do have a habit of bouncing back fast ... As I am sure you are well aware!

As for my new flat well that was a bit of a surprise. Since my Dad and his girlfriend are too hung up on their own lives and personal hobbies to help me move out (despite wanting me to move out since last year and not wholly loving the fact I was living with them in the first place) I decided to get my Uncle to help move me. And so on Saturday (the only date my Uncle could do to move me) we bundled up all my belongings in his work's van and headed to my new home! Packing and unpacking was a mission and a half though, and I don't think many people will be visiting often due to the fact it has no lifts and I'm on the third floor up four flights of stairs. I like it though. It's cosy and once I get everything sorted out properly then it will be perfect!

No word of warning on the old 'Luuurve' front yet, but I have continued online dating and am enjoying the attention from prospective males; even if they are fat, balding and are sitting at a computer having a lonely handshake with ones self. OK, well maybe not that extreme, but I love the idea that I could one day be talking to someone that will play an extra special part in my life. I haven't met any yet. Although I do plan to have a date with a very nice young man whom enjoys the company of quirky girls who enjoy laughing and chatting about nonsense but also have a fondness for dairy products, cheese included. We both seem to have hit it off pretty well and I enjoy talking to him so much so that we have arranged a 'Date' for this coming Sunday! Eeek! Scary date! I mean it's not like I am terrified of the idea. Its just scary meeting someone that theoretically you know a little of and that you have spoken online to, but it is another to meet in person and spend time together outside of cyberspace. I think that maybe this is just first-timer's nerves (Naughty!), what with being the first time I have met someone from an online dating site in the flesh - It's bound to be nerve shredding. I wonder what I shall wear? Hmmm ...

In other news, I have a big weekend planned. Along with my date on Sunday with the guy I met online, I am celebrating moving in with my good pal Miss Chocolate on Friday night and then following that up with something special for Saturday's twilight hours. I have heard that this Saturday, there will be a new show in the city of London. Starring yours truly. Ha ha. The dating show I was on a couple of months ago are having the Wrap Party in the bright lights of London. Cinderella shall go to the ball - Along with her trusty partner in crime; Miss Tweedle-Dumb!

I am looking forward to it and I know it's going to be a fun night out. Bit worried though, the last time I went on a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I met a boy whom we all know as that prick. Mr Workaholic! Then again, it might not all be bad. Miss Tweedle-Dumb could be my lucky charm in finding love. I could meet a sweetheart from across the bar and we would fall in love instantly with each other. He would worship me as a fat kid worships cake and we would get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Or I could be the last hope in hell of that sweaty nerd getting laid, lurking over there in the corner of a dark, smokey club at three in the morning like a weirdo. Yep, that is probably the story of Saturday night for you. Either that or the usual happens where Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself are dropped to our hotel by a cab and end up eating chicken until we pass out from alcohol. Still Miss Tweedle-Dee is not that bad. She can be very, very funny sometimes. Both her and Miss Tweedle-Dee can be very entertaining sometimes. Besides whats that saying. Sister's before Mister's ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Week From Satan Himself ...

Afternoon All,

Some people have described me as lucky, but after this week I doubt that this would be falling out of anyone's mouth any time soon. Allow me to explain the disastrous week I have just encountered. So after last week's dinner with Miss Chocolate on Tuesday and planning some more frolicking during these long, hot summer's days I was in a positive mood, not to mention finally putting down a deposit on my new home. But then Wednesday arrived and with it some woe.

Wednesday morning was like any other. I was up dressed and ready for work, watching some daytime TV and having breakfast before making my way to the station. After arriving on platform two and now waiting for my train I began to search through my social media channels and listen to music. A normal day. Until that is I begin to notice all the people from the opposite platform start to make their way up the stairs and over the walkway. As I watched this spectacle I saw a young blonde women walk down the stairs onto my platform when I was the only one waiting for the train to Bedford. She asked me to come with her to the ticket station. Panicked I had done something wrong I asked what the matter was to which she replied calmly with 'nothing'. As I went to pick up my bag she asked that I not look behind me. Not taking much notice I hooked my satchel over my shoulder and carried my steel-framed Rayleigh up the stairs and along the walk way. Nothing prepared me for what I saw when I turned to face the uniformed man at the end of the passenger bridge. As I turned to face the man in the train provider uniform I caught a glimpse of something horrifying. A man's head. Severed from his body. Alone. On the platform I had my back to. I cant remember a face but what I can remember is a thick, dark brown mass of hair covering this man's head. The face I do not remember.

As the colour drained from my face and my stomach churned at what my eyes had just glanced over, the uniformed man had clocked what I had just seen and pushed me out of view from it. He started to explain what had just happened even though I knew, telling me what would happen and that it would take up to several hours to clean up the mess. Even as I was told to go to the ticket office it still hadn't set in that I had just seen. A man been hit by a high-speed train. Accident or suicide, no-one knows. The pieces of human spread across the tracks will remain with me forever. The dark, matted hairy head of a man I never knew. All seen on this scorching Wednesday morning.

Upon arrival to the ticket office, I and some fellow passengers was told someone would be out in a second to speak to us. Amongst swarms of police officers, cop cars, vans and motorbikes, we all stood there waiting to be told the out come of our journey's. As time went on I decided I should call work to let them know what had happened and that I may well be late in. As the dialling tone of my phone played in the background I witnessed police men in vivid yellow jackets carry a white body bag with a dark mass at the bottom. This confirmed what I had seen. And as a voice picked up on the other end of the line I started to croak. Needless to say that I was told to go home and get some rest. I never knew that something like this would affect me in such a way it would bring me to tears. A man I never met, only seconds earlier a living, breathing, human with limbs attached and blood racing through his body. And now he was no more.

After finally coming to terms with Wednesday's incidents I returned to work and was grateful when Friday arrived. Walking into work and putting my lunch in the fridge I began to feel a little more normal. It was at this point that life was spun on its head once again for me. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start I get a call. I answered. My agency. As I took the call outside the office I listened intently as they explained how despite everything - The success, the progress, the moving forward in terms of improvement; my employment was to be terminated as of that moment. Devastated I broke once more. After everything I had been told about making all the right moves, about being on track and making brilliant progress that the company had decided I was not worthy of a permanent position. Upset turned to anger quickly resulting in me lashing out at the lady on the other end of the phone. Why hadn't I been tole earlier? Why was it that after an hour-and-a-half commute into work and after walking into the office filled with embarrassed faces and sheepish looks I was to be told now? Apparently my agency was a 'bit tied up' in the morning and so had only got round to them telling me now. Less than five minutes before my shift was meant to start. Heartbroken my thoughts turned to my little flat. My summer of fun with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle Dumb. The Deposit I had just put down on my little nest egg and now it was all gone. After discussing it further and working myself up I realised there was no point. Whats done is done and there was nothing I could do to change that. I walked back into the office, collected my lunch and walked back out past the sheepish and sorrowful looks of the colleagues and supervisors that ultimately caused such heartache. At a later date I was to find out that my agency was in the wrong and have paid for my pseudo taxi journey home.

And so that concludes my hellish week. A week I never wish to relive. Something that I know will make me a stronger person, but also make me realise just how precious life and everything in it is. Right back at square one and starting the job hunt all over again. Only this time the stakes are higher, the past few months worth of life-savings are on the line. I wither move into my new home and scrap by with everything I have or I give it all up and keep battling through life. Hopefully things will change by the next time we speak.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

We Lost the Sheep ...

Good evening,
 
And what a good evening it is. Nearly a fortnight of beautiful weather here in the UK and hopefully it stays like that. I love how even though I love being British, somehow talking about the weather make me feel much more worthy of such a title. Over the weekend it got up to over thirty-degrees which is hotter than it was on holiday in Majorca. Anyway, enough about the weather, more about my week!
 
As with most week's I slogged it out at work just so I could make it to the weekend. And what a weekend it was. Reminded me of the good old days when your still paying for your drunken mistakes and dodgy dancing come Tuesday - Of which 'yes' I am still recovering. Now it was just meant to be some casual drinks round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house to celebrate her father's birthday but before we knew what had hit us gone was the relaxing cider on the patio sofa's and there we were on the lawn's doing shots of vodka. How on earth I was able to drink that stuff neat when I was fourteen in the park with the younger Tweedle's beats me. Its almost like drinking bleach, even when it is the premium brands. As the night progressed and the sun began to go to bed the night really started to come alive. Laughing and sharing stories began and before we knew it we had all booked a cab into the local town to hit up some pubs and clubs. As the taxi arrived outside the pub Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I hopped out followed by the girlfriends of Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers. A proper girls night out. Heading straight to the bar we all got some drinks in and started to dance with me acting as main cock-blocker of the night I knew it was going to be good fun.
 
After a couple of songs and once our bottles were empty we headed to the next bar along the High Street and again, up to the bar we went. Only as we walked in I made eye contact with Mr. Coffee's brother! Bit awkward given the last time we spoke he had just found out that Mr. Coffee and I had christened his bed for him. Not thinking any more of it I hit the dance floor with the girls whilst the Tweedle's grabbed some drinks. Sweating like a fat kid in a cake shop I knew I needed to use the little girls room and so made my way through the crowds to the bathrooms. A few minute later Miss Tweedle-Dee walks in and with a grin on her face says I have to come with her. Panicking that maybe she had found Mr. Coffee and was hoping I was going to have it out with him on the dance floor I obliged. She seemed happy though. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But as she lead me by the hand we came to the warm, muggy air outside the front of the pub. It was only now that I saw the two skinny ladies perched onto a wall, holding onto each other as they tried not to fall into the flower beds behind the wall. They had been chucked out and as a result Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were also out. Sighing we put our heads together to see what we would do next, but before we even had a chance to think properly we were told by the paralytic-drunkards that we should continue our night of mayhem. And so we headed back to the first pub we went into carry-on with the night.
 
A few hours in and I fancied some air and a cigarette so went outside. I could still see the rest of them, partying away without a care in the world. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee seemed to be enjoying herself, the one person who disagreed with our impromptu night on the tiles. Moments later I was joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who also sparked up. I mentioned that someone should go back to the girlfriends and keep an eye on them, but we could see them from where we were sitting outside so it would be fine for the time being. That was until I went back in to find them. They were no-where to be found. The bar, toilets, smoking area, even the dance floor was free from their presence. Worried I went back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to see if they were there. The girls weren't there. Worried the Tweedles and I split up doing a wrecky one last time but still nothing. We had all there identification and money as well as their mobiles so they cant have gone far. Eventually after an hour of looking round the town we decided to head home and tell Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers that we had lost their beloved girlfriends. Thankfully though by the time we reached Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the girlfriend's had been found to have made their own ways home. Realising it was too late to get a train home, Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me her bedroom floor, and whilst cramped it was gratefully appreciated more than an three-hour wait on a cold bench at the station waiting for a train that may never come.

Also this week, after searching for both an abode and affection, I seemed to have stumbled across both. Wait around for ages and then two come along at the same time, eh? Now I know your dying to know about the 'Mr.' but its super earlier days so I shall not disclose anything yet. In terms of my new bachelor pad, I sent off my application forms and paperwork today and so should hear back pretty soon as to when I can move in, hopefully before the month is out.

It is a gorgeous, old Victorian property that is huge. It used to be an old boarding house for kids from the local towns and villages attending school in the town centre of Bedford so has buckets of character and maybe even a sneaky ghost or two? My flat is on the top floor and has a slanted roof, big sash windows that look out onto the back of the property, and enough room to park a plane. My own little home sweet home. I am so excited to move in I struggle sometimes to stay in one place at a time without buzzing about the place. I cant explain it. The feeling that I get when I know something is forthcoming as big as this just fills me with joy. I can tell I am going to be very happy there! I can finally do what I like, when I like and how I like it because I wont have to answer to anyone. I can eat chocolate and crisps for dinner. I can roll out of bed when I want to on a Sunday. Hell, I can even drink milk from the carton again and run around naked - Although I wouldn't want to make the neighbours sick, so maybe I shall keep my clothes on.
 
So fingers crossed that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb will come visit me in my new home, maybe then we can have a crazy night out on the town ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx