Evening All,
Following last week's final adventures in my little Vivienne, she is awaiting her final journey to Car heaven as is still on my driveway. The 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta, with her five-door hatchback body and a 1.4L engine she certainly was everything I had ever hoped for in my first car. Viv's multi-functional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors I was please that I had experienced my first real taste of the open road in her. But alas all good things must come to an end and this week and I will hopefully be welcoming in a new car to my driveway, other than the swanky black Vauxhall Corsa I have had the pleasure of driving for the last few days.
After a heavy night of drinking, dancing and laughing with Miss Hackney and Miss Sugar-Coat, I was not sure I could even look at a car, let alone drive one. But nevertheless, taking time out on Saturday to have a race day with my fiance, Mr Warehouse, at the Bruntingthorpe track in the Harborough district of Leicestershire was certainly one way to get over a fragile head. The best way though, Im not so sure!? A Christmas present from last year from Mr. Warehouse, he had certainly been listening to me when I was banging on about driving a fast car round a race-track. And so I drove the hired Vauxhall Corsa through the country lanes and even avoided a few horses on the road not to mention the sheep crossing too.
I had a fantastic day driving a Mazda MX5 race car. Complete with full roll cage, race suspension and mechanical backup, this was the perfect car for Bruntingthorpe Airbase circuit and has left me wanting more. And so I booked the Bae and me to experience a Ariel Atom Passenger ride where Mr. Warehouse and I hit the tarmac for a supercharged Ariel Atom. The Atom houses a Jacskson Racing Supercharged Honda i-VTEC engine. Stripped to it's bare essentials, a chassis, wheels, engine, gearbox and suspension gives the Atom a better power to weight ratio than the mighty Bugati Veyron. Experiencing one of the quickest cars with a 0.60 in less than 3 seconds was exciting and a great day out and was sure to get our adrenaline pumping.
And after waiting patiently for the last few days I finally had the call I was expecting from the insurance company. Answering all the relevant security questions I prepared myself for the inevitable conversation of being paid barely enough to pay of my finance deal, let alone buy another car.
"Sorry can I just get you to clarify that again for me?" I asked, desperately trying to process exactly what the call handler has just told me.
"Yes certainly madam. So the car's total value is £8,500.00 give or take. Now obviously we have the insurance excess and a few admin charge that we need to take off before we pay the finance company. Although once the insurance company has paid off the finance deal and taken the relevant fees we will be transferring the remainder £4,200.00 over to yourself. Is this OK?" the call handler explained. I was shocked to say the least! Considering I had already bought and financed the car at quite a high rate of interest I was not expecting a single penny back to me at all. As long as the finance deal was settled in full be it partly an insurance pay-out and partly my asset protection insurance to cover the rest, I considered walking away from the situation washing my hands and starting afresh.
"Hello? Miss? Are you there?" the friendly young gentleman said on the other line. Confirming some further details the the call ended and I expected to receive a email or phone call shortly after explaining that there had been a mistake in the finance settlement.
However, less than a few hours later I received an email confirming exactly what I was told over the phone and that I should be expecting payment within the next forty-eight hours. Still in shock, I thought of didn't really believe it until I saw my bank account the next day which read a full four digits on my screen. Excited I started looking for my new car right away, all in the knowledge that I could receive a phone call any second telling me that I would need to hand my hire car back. This would probably have not been such a big deal had I been living in Bedford town center as before, however as I am now a country bumpkin living out in the sticks of Cranfield I have no choice but to need a car. Although I was certainly not going to be making the same mistake as I did last week when I eagerly called the insurance company so I could get the ball rolling following a message from the estimator's garage.
Mostly over the last few days I have been spent looking online at car dealerships websites for any car that tickles my fancy. Obviously I am not looking for much in my next car however I would like some specifications I have since become accustomed to. Firstly on my shopping list is the price as I would like to keep it under the same value that I am already paying on a monthly basis. Secondly, I need the car to be at least a 1.4 engine as anything smaller would be taking a back step from my previous vehicle. Ideally I would like the car to be newer with less mileage on the clock. If I can continue with a petrol engine then that would be fantastic but it must be a manual, only for the fear that if I was to get an automatic with my lazy brain I would forget how to drive stick. Mod-Cons that I would be looking for may include a heated windscreen to save time in the wintery months, a heated steering wheel for exactly the same reason and even a touch screen navigation system.
However that being said, I think I may have already met my new car. Scrolling online I found a cute little Fiat 500L in red. The 1.3 liter, 5-door multijet needs to be moved closer for me to have a proper look around the car and even have a whizz around town but with just over thirty-thousand miles on it 2013 plate clock, it was certainly a steal at £140 per month on a Hire Purchase finance deal.
Now I know what your thinking, walking away from this unscathed and essentially up n an investment, why didn't I consider a brand spanking new motor? The fact is that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt which is and always has been a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new not just the first time buying a car but also the second time too. With no noticeable damage or scratches to the paintwork and it's almighty diesel engine I am certainly looking forward to receiving my new car and hopefully having this one for good!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Night Out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Night Out. Show all posts
Monday, 1 April 2019
Monday, 26 February 2018
The Night Of Lola The Showgirl!
Hello!
Another long week over and done with I was certainly more than happy that it was finally payday. It felt as though February had been a lot longer of a month than the payday between Christmas and the end of January. Maybe it was the fact that all of my money was ploughed into a savings account ISA in order to desperately try and save for a house in order to move out before Christmas this year. This, coupled with the fact that my weight has now started to slow down after losing so much over Christmas and New Year despite all the personal training sessions and gym visits has all in all left me feeling slightly deflated. With no holiday to look forward to this year and very little planned in the calendar I was certainly struggling with my motivation for losing weight and saving for my first home!
Deciding that I was not going to spend another month not going out and being a complete antisocial recluse, I organised a works night out. Following the works Christmas party and how much fun it was, not to mention just how messy it ended up, I was certain that a good old-fashioned night out to paint the town red! On sending the email out to my colleague I eagerly awaited their response. But nothing came, only a few replies on how some people were not able to make it. There were a few suggestions that involved team activities that were not alcohol related but on trying to obtain numbers no one seemed to care. So it seemed up until last minute it was just me and a couple of the girls going out for a quiet drink and maybe a dance.
Heading for some pre-drinks round one of the girls house's, gossipping away about music and the likes, trying to decided on what pair of shoes goes with what dress and whether anyone can see our VPL - Visible Panty Line. Frosty air nipping at our legs we were finally in a pub keeping warm and refreshed with some Prosecco or two. Later on the music started to pump and in between scrolling though social media and nattering over the tunes there would be a Selfie or two. Unfortunately none of us out saw the arrogant twat walking towards us like some sort of Andy Warhol. Dressed in an overly tight top that saw the blood supply cut off to his exterior limbs, he waltzed over to our table and failing to introduce himself like a true gent (or to be honest anyone with any ounce of dignity or respect) and practically snatched my Smart phone out of my hand in order to "help" us clearly failing and weak women take a Selfie.
Five minutes he was still there and despite our efforts to move him along politely we had given up and lost our patience with him and his poxy photography skills fast. Insulting him as only women know how to by emasculating the little toe-rag he eventually got the picture and pissed off, leaving my phone back in my safe hands and with a dozen or so badly taken and blurred images of three women on the Razz.
Carrying on throughout the night we were joined by some other work colleagues whom were also on a night out with some of their friends, joining together in a drunken stupor I felt like the fifth wheel in all of this. Not wanting to interrupt anyone's conversation and boring of looking at my phone I went off in search of some company. Male was my choice preferably as they were normally more friendly and usually happy to see anyone of the female variety taking an interest, even a Hepher like me! Or so I thought. The first lad I made conversation with was tall with light brown curly hair in what the kids on the street call a "Meet Me At McDonalds" Haircut. Wearing a dusty blue grey jumper and being typically British I mentioned how cold it was and we struck up a chat which eventually lead to him asking for my number. Before I even had a chance to turn around and run back to my friends or tell him I had a boyfriend I was thrust a phone and asked to put in my number. When I handed it back and said I had done it, I was promptly told that this was not true as Mr. Meet-Me-At-McDonalds-Haircut had been watching me the whole time and I had not given my number. "Persistent I'll give him that" I thought as I typed a random number into my phone and saved it under 'Lola' - And yes she was a showgirl!
Heading off from one public house to the next I found myself in the wallet-sucking auction room and whilst its nice atmosphere, relatively good music and nice cocktails are always welcome in my books, the price you pay for a dribble of Blossom Hill White Zinfandel (my fave) you could walk up the road to the corner shop and buy a whole bottle and still have change. Separated from my work buds I made some new ones with a guy who was sat alone and looking melancholy. Striking up conversation in probably the most intoxicated way possible whereby I thrust my hand out and introduced myself. The gentleman obliged and we got chatting, later on his friends joined and I got talking to some more guys and they asked if I was single. "Wow two lots of guys in one night?! Surely this cant be happening? They must all have that 'Shallow Hal' thing going on!" I pondered. Laughing it off I found my friends and I danced the rest of the night away without many cares in the world apart from having a good time.
I never knew that I would have been so popular with the lads. I mean granted I did make the first move in terms of walking over for a chat and introducing myself in a proper way as opposed to our All-Muscle-No-Brains "Photographer" earlier in the evening. Being the size I am (UK Size 18/20) I would have thought that men would have turned the other way, ignored me or worse made a joke but in actual fact I think they were just pleased for the attention and the fact that someone was maybe interested in talking to them for a change and not them having to do all the chasing, not that that was what I was after. I kinda feel sorry for lads sometimes as they are damned if they do and damned if they don't in many a moral dilemma, especially when it comes to dating and anything concerned with the opposite sex.
Now I know some people may criticise me and ask why I did all those things on Friday night when I had a perfectly good-to-me boyfriend sat at home. The thing is that I did not intend to go out with the intention of pulling, cheating or handing out myself like sweeties. I have respect for myself regardless of when I am in or out of a relationship. I know how to conduct myself and am confident in the situations I put myself in. If I wanted to cheat I could and would have done it months if not years ago. But I didn't and don't. Why? Because Mr. Warehouse and I have a strong relationship which means he can go out, chat with other girls, dance with other girls and even mildly flirt with them if he so wishes just as I can and did on Friday night, but the difference between us and other couples is that we trust each other and that each night one or both of us goes out on the piss, we know we're coming home to something much, much more special, meaningful and precious than some twenty-something in "Da Club"!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 5 February 2018
Greener Grass and Flecks of Gold
Evening All,
Only a week after payday I really wondered how I was so poor. I did not have to look far though as my bank balance for our new house fund was slowly growing. Soon I hoped that I would see that little comma appear proving that I was doing the right thing by saving all my pennies but I never knew how stressful and broke it would make me feel knowing I have money but it is tied up and away. Now don't get me wrong I knew that this would not be an easy journey, saving every scrap of money that both me and Mr Warehouse have between us was certainly going to be a struggle especially when I am giving up on my summer holiday this year with Mr. Warehouse, something that makes me deeply sad and frustrated for this was going to be the year that we were going to have a blowout holiday were by the head off somewhere hot by the beach relaxing for a week or two.
Anyway enough with the same old same old, and back to the good old good old. That's right, after far far too long apart, me, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat along with her latest Beau met in a local eatery for some Mexican food and what I hoped would be a change to the normal schedule of shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots! It had been a long time since I saw them and it felt like I was going back to something familiar. I enjoy their company separately with Miss Hackney's laughter and down to earth approach mixed in with some gritty tales of the dating game (some more horrific and hilarious than mine I might add) and Miss Sugarcoat's intellectual conversation and ideas on life along with the added spice of strong controversial opinions (some of which I back entirely and some I try to hide from and pretend she is not with me), yet together we seem to create so much noise that it is sometimes hard to hear myself think.
Harping back to the good old times in which we used to fart around in the office not doing much work or course, we reminisced well into the evening and chatted about life as we know it now with our new relationships, friendships and jobs. I had so much to tell them as they had for me although I felt that we were all talking over each other and that the noisy restaurant did not help. Both Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat seemed to have developed and carved out good careers for themselves, expanding on their talents and skills in order to obtain well paying jobs. This left me slightly questioning if I ever made the right decision moving, even though I knew in my heart that's a good decision was made. OK so I am not earning £35,000 working for a plumbing and heating company and I am also not spending my evenings and weekends attending events that I am hosting in aid of cosmetic beauty. Am I happy I jumped ship? Yes certainly and with everything that has happened in the last year and a half I think I have a fairly good deal where I am at the moment especially given the pay, ever-growing relationships both in and outside of the office as well as the fact that I now have a similar relationship with my engineers as I had before with my old ones.
As the shots kept coming I knew that my hopes of a quiet and sophisticated chat over dinner would not be the case this evening. Maybe another night I thought. Maybe a quiet evening in with a bottle or two and a comfy sofa to put the world to rights would be just what we all needed to calm down a bit for the atmosphere of a busy restaurant on a Friday night and then a loud pub with DJ were probably not the ideal places to share stories from the last eighteen months or so since I left. This was not to say that I was not enjoying myself knocking back shots of tequila whilst sipping on Prosecco, trying to keep an ounce of classy about the evening of course. As we rambled through the evening, drinking more and chatting less I was enjoying myself but in a different kind of way that I was used to and an alternative way I would if I was with my current work colleagues.
I suppose in the grand old scheme of things that this is the big difference between my old workplace and where I work now. The majority of the time that I spent with my old work colleagues was getting drunk and talking about shite. That is not to say that given a problem or issue I was experiencing I could not talk to my old work colleagues and looking back on my time there I got some brilliant advice from some amazing people who I would like to consider even now as friends despite not talking in quite some time. A night out on the tiles now consists of going round to someone else to pre-drinking in a sophisticated fashion all whilst helping each other to get dressed and gossipping as women do, then heading into town for a nice meal and some cocktails afterwards. And whilst I don't feel like I have achieved that level of conversation with anyone of my current work colleagues at this moment in time, that is not to say that if something was bugging me or I needed to talk to someone that I would have no one to talk openly to as I am sure that there would be plenty of people to offer a sympathetic ear - I hope at least.
Nevertheless my Friday evening spent with my old work colleagues or certainly a laugh and certainly something that we will make sure not to leave so long again. Isn't it funny I thought to myself and as I later tried to explain to Man-Brain Mr. Warehouse - You spend a good majority of your life working and those people you work with, if you are close, know everything about you and your life as you do about them and theirs. From Monday to Friday, Nine 'til Five you spill your guts about how your feeling and what happened at home or over the weekend. The kids, the other-half, the house, the in-laws and everything and everyone in between. You get to know their social networks and circles without ever actually meeting them and are able to provide comfort and warmth in a time of need. They know your relationships better than maybe you do yourself and can even offer advise that could change everything. With the staples and cellotape and paperclips galore they help you as much as you help them in times of joy, sorrow, support and laughter, colleagues like mine at my old job were like literal tiny flecks of gold dust, blowing into your life five-days-a-week.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Only a week after payday I really wondered how I was so poor. I did not have to look far though as my bank balance for our new house fund was slowly growing. Soon I hoped that I would see that little comma appear proving that I was doing the right thing by saving all my pennies but I never knew how stressful and broke it would make me feel knowing I have money but it is tied up and away. Now don't get me wrong I knew that this would not be an easy journey, saving every scrap of money that both me and Mr Warehouse have between us was certainly going to be a struggle especially when I am giving up on my summer holiday this year with Mr. Warehouse, something that makes me deeply sad and frustrated for this was going to be the year that we were going to have a blowout holiday were by the head off somewhere hot by the beach relaxing for a week or two.
Anyway enough with the same old same old, and back to the good old good old. That's right, after far far too long apart, me, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat along with her latest Beau met in a local eatery for some Mexican food and what I hoped would be a change to the normal schedule of shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots! It had been a long time since I saw them and it felt like I was going back to something familiar. I enjoy their company separately with Miss Hackney's laughter and down to earth approach mixed in with some gritty tales of the dating game (some more horrific and hilarious than mine I might add) and Miss Sugarcoat's intellectual conversation and ideas on life along with the added spice of strong controversial opinions (some of which I back entirely and some I try to hide from and pretend she is not with me), yet together we seem to create so much noise that it is sometimes hard to hear myself think.
Harping back to the good old times in which we used to fart around in the office not doing much work or course, we reminisced well into the evening and chatted about life as we know it now with our new relationships, friendships and jobs. I had so much to tell them as they had for me although I felt that we were all talking over each other and that the noisy restaurant did not help. Both Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat seemed to have developed and carved out good careers for themselves, expanding on their talents and skills in order to obtain well paying jobs. This left me slightly questioning if I ever made the right decision moving, even though I knew in my heart that's a good decision was made. OK so I am not earning £35,000 working for a plumbing and heating company and I am also not spending my evenings and weekends attending events that I am hosting in aid of cosmetic beauty. Am I happy I jumped ship? Yes certainly and with everything that has happened in the last year and a half I think I have a fairly good deal where I am at the moment especially given the pay, ever-growing relationships both in and outside of the office as well as the fact that I now have a similar relationship with my engineers as I had before with my old ones.
As the shots kept coming I knew that my hopes of a quiet and sophisticated chat over dinner would not be the case this evening. Maybe another night I thought. Maybe a quiet evening in with a bottle or two and a comfy sofa to put the world to rights would be just what we all needed to calm down a bit for the atmosphere of a busy restaurant on a Friday night and then a loud pub with DJ were probably not the ideal places to share stories from the last eighteen months or so since I left. This was not to say that I was not enjoying myself knocking back shots of tequila whilst sipping on Prosecco, trying to keep an ounce of classy about the evening of course. As we rambled through the evening, drinking more and chatting less I was enjoying myself but in a different kind of way that I was used to and an alternative way I would if I was with my current work colleagues.
I suppose in the grand old scheme of things that this is the big difference between my old workplace and where I work now. The majority of the time that I spent with my old work colleagues was getting drunk and talking about shite. That is not to say that given a problem or issue I was experiencing I could not talk to my old work colleagues and looking back on my time there I got some brilliant advice from some amazing people who I would like to consider even now as friends despite not talking in quite some time. A night out on the tiles now consists of going round to someone else to pre-drinking in a sophisticated fashion all whilst helping each other to get dressed and gossipping as women do, then heading into town for a nice meal and some cocktails afterwards. And whilst I don't feel like I have achieved that level of conversation with anyone of my current work colleagues at this moment in time, that is not to say that if something was bugging me or I needed to talk to someone that I would have no one to talk openly to as I am sure that there would be plenty of people to offer a sympathetic ear - I hope at least.
Nevertheless my Friday evening spent with my old work colleagues or certainly a laugh and certainly something that we will make sure not to leave so long again. Isn't it funny I thought to myself and as I later tried to explain to Man-Brain Mr. Warehouse - You spend a good majority of your life working and those people you work with, if you are close, know everything about you and your life as you do about them and theirs. From Monday to Friday, Nine 'til Five you spill your guts about how your feeling and what happened at home or over the weekend. The kids, the other-half, the house, the in-laws and everything and everyone in between. You get to know their social networks and circles without ever actually meeting them and are able to provide comfort and warmth in a time of need. They know your relationships better than maybe you do yourself and can even offer advise that could change everything. With the staples and cellotape and paperclips galore they help you as much as you help them in times of joy, sorrow, support and laughter, colleagues like mine at my old job were like literal tiny flecks of gold dust, blowing into your life five-days-a-week.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 18 December 2017
Still Got It!
Evening,
So following last week's incident with the house fire I was adamant to get back to some sort of normality before the final few days before the Christmas rush hit. By this time of the year I wanted to be settled with everything bought and ideally wrapped, sacks and bags ready to go with a plan for the big day on where we were spending it and who with, not to mention to be spending our first morning waking up in our new home for the festive period and maybe even hosting some people over the holidays. But alas, here I was trying to juggle visits from the Landlord in between going to work, calling insurance companies and that's without even making a start on the wrapping or the ninety-odd Christmas Card I have to write this year. But with it all nearly over and done with, insurance settled and the necessities done away with I can finally start to enjoy what I can of this time of year.
This week was the Christmas party at work and whilst I don't normally talk much about my colleagues and what my day-to-day life is at work or what we do socially I suppose I best touch on my time during what is supposed to be the one night of the year you can really let your hair down. Some people get amorous, Some people get mildly flirty. Some people cop-off with one another. Some have a bust up. The Christmas Party at work has always evoked many a good tale on the Monday morning and alas there was none to tell, and even if there was I wouldn't spill. Saturday morning I woke however with a pounding headache and a serious need to re-hydrate. On asking what time I came home I replied to Mr. Warehouse that I thought it must have been maybe two or half-two in the morning only for him to explain it can't have been since he was up until quarter-to-three in the early hours of Saturday and I was still not back, meaning I must have been out to the lights came.on. Proud to say I still got it.
Now I have been to many a Christmas Party and works night out, maybe too many to count and certainly too many to remember. There were some of my first encounters of a night on the tiles with work colleagues was probably back in College when it would start on a Thursday lunch time with a hour-long liquid lunch down the pub and then on through Thursday Night, Friday Night, Saturday Night and Sunday night, only to roll up to college on a Monday still drunk or at the very least hangin' out our tree.
Work life soon progressed after College where I went into my first proper full time job working for a IT and technology company in Northampton. Nights out were sophisticated and started with maybe a brief glass of Rose at lunch down the local Harvester and then home for a quick change before picking everyone up en route to town. Setting our roots down in a cocktail bar one of my colleagues husband's owned (I know, friends in all the right places) we would sip away until the club's beckoned. The night would usually end with Mr. Workaholic coming to collect me or sharing a cab home. Nights out rarely involved Mr. Warehouse in Northampton, we would normally head out of a weekend with his Sister who seemed to know every bouncer in Dunstable and as a result would queue jump and get the best protection, but this was hardly work.
After moving back home to the 'Shire, and it was then that the work's night out on the razz dried up. Mainly I put this down to just not being able to find a job or company I wanted to work for. There was always a reasoning for the role not working out. Roles were boring. Roles were too stressful. The commute was too far. The public transport was a pain in the arse every day to and from the office. Life was just very unstable, as it had been for the last few years really. That was until I walked through the doors of my last company I worked for.
Being introduced to more or less everyone that worked there, less than eight-weeks later there I was on a night out. And getting pissed every four-weeks on pay day seemed like a tradition of sorts. It was on this night out, all those many moons ago that Mr. Warehouse and I met. Crushing on me since I joined I had recently split from Mr. Cheese and I think as a ploy to get me to come out some of the guys in the office arranged a night out, to take my mind off it. Betting with the store-man that I would / wouldn't be late I arrived at the designated time, only to be met by a red-haired Mr. CWG and a smartly dressed gentleman in a lilac pinstriped shirt. "Oooh a sales rep" I thought to myself, assuming he would be at least in some money and therefore a good catch in terms of conversation, ethics and morals - Not just a fuck-boy like the rest on Tinder! As more and more faces turned up we headed to a club to dance the night away, but not before some of the girls from the office collared me to ask if I was interested in Mr. CWG or Mr. Warehouse. I played it coy but had no idea that both of them were vying for my attention like some sort of horny peacocks.
After that night out a girl from the office messaged me and asked if she could pass my number onto Mr. Warehouse and I suppose the rest is history they say. Although when Mr. Warehouse explained that he was not a sales rep and indeed did work in the Warehouse I refused to believe him, until Monday morning came and I met a rather awkward and shy man in the Canteen. From then onwards there was a night at the dogs, quickly followed by someones birthday party, followed by another works night out for one reason or another and then there was the Annual Christmas Party, only to be followed a few months later with an all expenses paid awards ceremony, again drinks included. It was amazing. Like living my college years all over again. Friends soon turned to what I would class as a close knit family and will be forever looked upon as one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. But then things began to change and our little family went out less and less. I was starting to dislike my desk and whilst the people really did keep me from walking on many an occasion I knew it would not be long until the end.
This time round with my not-so-new-anymore job I feel it is more of a sophisticated affair. Everyone is over the age of twenty-five so have done the whole falling off the curb and bundling into a kebab shop at 2am. Work life nights out now include going on dinner dates, pre-drinks putting the world to rights and talking shite, heading to cocktail bars and paying over the odds for a glass of wine when you could have bought the whole bottle at the shop round the corner. Life is much more mature, but don't get me wrong oh how I do wish I could have a messy night out again with my old colleagues, or maybe with my new ones. A good old sticky night club floor, someone to bum menthol's off in the beer garden and a mediocre argument about how I can walk home as I live so close to town and not needing a cab. Maybe this is something I should initiate. A proper dirty night out!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 3 July 2017
Frappuchi-NOOO!
Hiya!
Week done I was certainly glad to be out of the office and ready for a night of partying. It had certainly been one of those weeks, you know the ones, they seemed to drag on forever and never ending stream of customers that have multiple first world problems that you are the sole and only the proprietor of. It felt as though at one point that the week would never end. Thank fuck Friday came round quick enough.
One of the girls at work was become pregnant, and being due in a few weeks Friday was her last day at work. So we did what any normal company would do and other than throwing her a lovely baby shower, decided to have a nice meal out together to celebrate her leaving. In some circumstances this may have been at the end of the night out maybe even finishing off with some cocktails or at a nice bar around the corner from the restaurant, however, this was not the case. Now by no stretch is the company that I work for anything in comparison to what a night out on the tiles was where Mr Warehouse and I met was, but this weekend certainly showed me exactly how crazy and mad it can all get when we've all had a few drinks.
Finishing a lovely meal at one of the local restaurants to the town centre, I barely have enough time to swallow the last glass of wine let alone the rest of the bottle that I had left before I was being ushered out of the restaurant ready to hit the town. Enough with the fanciful natures of having a nice dinner between work colleagues it was now time to get shit faced. I shall not go into the details of what happened on Friday night however I think that it is safe to say that we all had a thoroughly good time.
Waking Saturday morning was difficult and I did in all honesty consider just staying up and waiting to get ready to go to Miss Tweedle-Dee's in order to share the journey down to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb one last time in her Basingstoke flat. I was certainly feeling fragile by the time I woke up at 8am Saturday morning. I suppose on a plus side I had not been sick so I was a winner already however I didn't come home with my Tolkien subway as normal, only to be found hours later by an angry Mr Warehouse waking me from my slumber with explaining why I was on the toilet and cradling a six-inch half-eaten sandwich.
Rushing around to get my bag packed, the dog walked and grab a coffee to sober up I headed out to the car and race to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house by 10am. It what certainly cutting it fine however I did get there just as the clock struck ten. Parking up I prayed to the gods that my friend needed to get some petrol and I could jump out the park to get some car snacks. I was hungry as soon as I woke up although with the copious amounts of alcohol I drank the night before, I wanted to make sure that it was definitely hunger and not just a jelly-belly. The 40-minute journey to my left definitely reassured myself that in actual fact I was just in need of food.
Filling up in more ways than one we were on our way to see our bestie whom I had heard suffered an even worse night than me. Chattering all the way down to Berkshire we had endured the M25 traffic, and now, with less than 10 minutes left in our journey we decided to pull into Fleet Services as we normally do in order to get a Starbucks. Two chocolate-chip cream Frappe's and a coffee caramel Frappuccino later we were on the road again and next stop Miss Tweedle-Dumb.
Parking the car we grabbed what we needed and headed inside. I was carrying Miss Tweedle-Dee's sandwich, my handbag and my coffee caramel Frappuccino when I approached the infamous steps of doom. Uneven and probably the shortest one being at least a foot high I was cautious in my approach. I thought o myself as I took my first tentative steps towards the stone stairs "I have managed this in the dead of winter, cold and wet and icy. I though I would have fallen either up or down them alread... " OH FUCK!
Loosing my step in beloved buckled oxblood ankle boots, I stumbled and thinking that I had found my footing I must have counteracted it, doing so had caused me to stumble even further. Shouting out to my friend letting her know that I had screwed up, Miss Tweedle-Dee turned around at just the right moment in order to see me fly into the air. Knowing in my head but there is nothing I could do to salvage myself or indeed anything I was carrying, I took off from the first of four very steep and Stone steps. Crash landing and skidding to a stop, I heard the awful sound of my cherished ice cold coffee caramel Frappuccino hitting the floor, splashing for at least a meter in front of me.
Although in most circumstances I would have made a full recovery and be back on my feet in seconds, even before someone had asked if I was OK this was not the case. With it all happening so quickly I had not a moment to think or indeed plan my comeback. As such I also had no time, or indeed spare hands to grab onto anything and as such had gone flying. You would have thought that the normal response would be drop everything and check that your best friend is OK and that they haven't broken anything or badly injured themselves. But as the pain set in, I realised that this was not the case and whilst the Two aforementioned chocolate-chip cream Frappe's had been neatly placed on the floor beside myself, it was not to check that I was still alive. Oh no, it was for my friend to reach into her bag and pull out her camera, capturing the embarrassing moment for all to see, forcing me to stay put until the picture has been captured.
Not that of course the neighbours couldn't see that is. As with many parts of the country including my hometown of Houghton Regis, this area of Basingstoke was a council estate. As search the double-storey buildings that overlooked the path leading to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's house. Not being able to see due to the fact that my sunglasses had become entangled in my hair and in front of my face, I could just feel the curtains twitching as people came to see what was happening outside. With a loud thud, the sploshing drink hitting the floor and unrelenting and never-ending fits laughter, I would have come to the window too in order to see what all the commotion was all about, only to realise that it is some silly fuck who has fallen off the ridiculously high steps again. So much were the screams and howls of giggles erupted from Miss Tweedle-Dee that I am surprised Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't come rushing out to my help.
After picking myself up off the floor and assessing the damage done I was devastated to learn that there had been a worse casualty in all this. My Starbucks coffee caramel Frappuccino was gone and with nothing left in my little plastic cup I was close to tears. Heading in to tell of the hilarious moment I became superman and show Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend the snap I sniffed and hobbled my way to the front room and slouched on the sofa in pain, not just of my body but also of the thirst-quenching loss.
With the rest of the weekend passing in a haze of fun, family events and even more laughter I know that in time I will heal the bruises on my pins, but wont pass so easily is the day I flew with my Frappe.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Week done I was certainly glad to be out of the office and ready for a night of partying. It had certainly been one of those weeks, you know the ones, they seemed to drag on forever and never ending stream of customers that have multiple first world problems that you are the sole and only the proprietor of. It felt as though at one point that the week would never end. Thank fuck Friday came round quick enough.
One of the girls at work was become pregnant, and being due in a few weeks Friday was her last day at work. So we did what any normal company would do and other than throwing her a lovely baby shower, decided to have a nice meal out together to celebrate her leaving. In some circumstances this may have been at the end of the night out maybe even finishing off with some cocktails or at a nice bar around the corner from the restaurant, however, this was not the case. Now by no stretch is the company that I work for anything in comparison to what a night out on the tiles was where Mr Warehouse and I met was, but this weekend certainly showed me exactly how crazy and mad it can all get when we've all had a few drinks.
Finishing a lovely meal at one of the local restaurants to the town centre, I barely have enough time to swallow the last glass of wine let alone the rest of the bottle that I had left before I was being ushered out of the restaurant ready to hit the town. Enough with the fanciful natures of having a nice dinner between work colleagues it was now time to get shit faced. I shall not go into the details of what happened on Friday night however I think that it is safe to say that we all had a thoroughly good time.
Waking Saturday morning was difficult and I did in all honesty consider just staying up and waiting to get ready to go to Miss Tweedle-Dee's in order to share the journey down to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb one last time in her Basingstoke flat. I was certainly feeling fragile by the time I woke up at 8am Saturday morning. I suppose on a plus side I had not been sick so I was a winner already however I didn't come home with my Tolkien subway as normal, only to be found hours later by an angry Mr Warehouse waking me from my slumber with explaining why I was on the toilet and cradling a six-inch half-eaten sandwich.
Rushing around to get my bag packed, the dog walked and grab a coffee to sober up I headed out to the car and race to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house by 10am. It what certainly cutting it fine however I did get there just as the clock struck ten. Parking up I prayed to the gods that my friend needed to get some petrol and I could jump out the park to get some car snacks. I was hungry as soon as I woke up although with the copious amounts of alcohol I drank the night before, I wanted to make sure that it was definitely hunger and not just a jelly-belly. The 40-minute journey to my left definitely reassured myself that in actual fact I was just in need of food.
Filling up in more ways than one we were on our way to see our bestie whom I had heard suffered an even worse night than me. Chattering all the way down to Berkshire we had endured the M25 traffic, and now, with less than 10 minutes left in our journey we decided to pull into Fleet Services as we normally do in order to get a Starbucks. Two chocolate-chip cream Frappe's and a coffee caramel Frappuccino later we were on the road again and next stop Miss Tweedle-Dumb.
Parking the car we grabbed what we needed and headed inside. I was carrying Miss Tweedle-Dee's sandwich, my handbag and my coffee caramel Frappuccino when I approached the infamous steps of doom. Uneven and probably the shortest one being at least a foot high I was cautious in my approach. I thought o myself as I took my first tentative steps towards the stone stairs "I have managed this in the dead of winter, cold and wet and icy. I though I would have fallen either up or down them alread... " OH FUCK!
Loosing my step in beloved buckled oxblood ankle boots, I stumbled and thinking that I had found my footing I must have counteracted it, doing so had caused me to stumble even further. Shouting out to my friend letting her know that I had screwed up, Miss Tweedle-Dee turned around at just the right moment in order to see me fly into the air. Knowing in my head but there is nothing I could do to salvage myself or indeed anything I was carrying, I took off from the first of four very steep and Stone steps. Crash landing and skidding to a stop, I heard the awful sound of my cherished ice cold coffee caramel Frappuccino hitting the floor, splashing for at least a meter in front of me.
Although in most circumstances I would have made a full recovery and be back on my feet in seconds, even before someone had asked if I was OK this was not the case. With it all happening so quickly I had not a moment to think or indeed plan my comeback. As such I also had no time, or indeed spare hands to grab onto anything and as such had gone flying. You would have thought that the normal response would be drop everything and check that your best friend is OK and that they haven't broken anything or badly injured themselves. But as the pain set in, I realised that this was not the case and whilst the Two aforementioned chocolate-chip cream Frappe's had been neatly placed on the floor beside myself, it was not to check that I was still alive. Oh no, it was for my friend to reach into her bag and pull out her camera, capturing the embarrassing moment for all to see, forcing me to stay put until the picture has been captured.
Not that of course the neighbours couldn't see that is. As with many parts of the country including my hometown of Houghton Regis, this area of Basingstoke was a council estate. As search the double-storey buildings that overlooked the path leading to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's house. Not being able to see due to the fact that my sunglasses had become entangled in my hair and in front of my face, I could just feel the curtains twitching as people came to see what was happening outside. With a loud thud, the sploshing drink hitting the floor and unrelenting and never-ending fits laughter, I would have come to the window too in order to see what all the commotion was all about, only to realise that it is some silly fuck who has fallen off the ridiculously high steps again. So much were the screams and howls of giggles erupted from Miss Tweedle-Dee that I am surprised Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't come rushing out to my help.
After picking myself up off the floor and assessing the damage done I was devastated to learn that there had been a worse casualty in all this. My Starbucks coffee caramel Frappuccino was gone and with nothing left in my little plastic cup I was close to tears. Heading in to tell of the hilarious moment I became superman and show Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend the snap I sniffed and hobbled my way to the front room and slouched on the sofa in pain, not just of my body but also of the thirst-quenching loss.
With the rest of the weekend passing in a haze of fun, family events and even more laughter I know that in time I will heal the bruises on my pins, but wont pass so easily is the day I flew with my Frappe.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 8 May 2017
A Reuniting of Sorts!
Heyyy,
So following the optimism of last week's fresh adventure, again the subject of buying house is at the forefront of my mind and it would appear that there is nothing to help me get there any quicker than just saving alone. Unfortunately for me, no one rich is dying in my family and I don't think I have any wealthy relatives that are willing to lend me the cash-ola for my first home. Suffice to say that I think it's time I suck it up and just open up a help-to-buy-ISA and look forward to the next seven-years of nothingness in my life. Anyway enough with being morbid about home-ownership, I have had a laugh with some old work colleagues and some even older friends.
Working hard at my small desk in the new offices, I received a text message from one of my old work colleagues, Mr. Eagle. It was a simplistic message, stating that my old work colleagues were planning a night out in town on that Friday and I was the honorary member. Delighted that somebody had finally asked me out for a proper messy night out on the town I jumped at the chance, returning the message as soon as it hit my inbox that I most certainly would be there. Speaking to my beloved Mr. Warehouse that evening, he was already doing some overtime early on the Saturday morning so would probably give it a miss. But if I know my boyfriend I knew that he would make sure he at least came out for one drink in order to show face and tell the lad's I used to work with to watch themselves and more-so to watch out for me.
As Friday night rolled round, more than excited to get my glad-rags on and see some familiar and well missed faces. Walking into one of the many pubs along the Bedford High Street I was suddenly nervous and excited all at the same time. Only a small group of lads, mostly from the warehouse but it didn't matter for tonight was mine for the taking and as I got the round in Mr. Eagle and I caught up on the office gossip and what had been happening since I left. But as the night wore on I could tell that Mr. Warehouse was ready for bed as he and I both knew he had a very early start.
Bidding us a farewell, the boyfriend departed and we headed to the next bar along. By this point in the evening, I am almost certain that I am more than a little bit tipsy but I am loving every moment of it. Since learning to drive and getting my blessed Vivian I have always been the designated driver, rarely opting to get a cab to any social event. So this was certainly my time to get down and dirty on the dance floor whilst getting completely off my nut. And the best thing about it was that I was doing it with all of my favourite people in the whole wide world, well nearly?!
Leaving the club I don't quite remember what happened next, all I do remember is that we went to Subway. I ordered a foot-long sub and proceeded to the taxi rank. Sweet as my old work colleagues dropped me off back home and make sure that I was in through the door before heading back to their own homes themselves. I remember the bedroom light being on as it normally is when I go out on the town without my Mr. Warehouse. Slowly and quietly as possible I made it to the bathroom, where I had apparently stripped off and fallen asleep on the loo. Classy 'eh?! The next thing I know the lights are switched on and I felt as though I was in heaven it was that bright, but then came a familiar voice and it didn't seem to be too pleased with me. It was Mr. Warehouse and he had found me in a very compromised state of affairs.
With a raised voice he asked me what I was doing to which I can only assume I slurred my response. After taking my remaining six-inch subway from me (which I have since been told I was clinging onto whilst asleep), cleaning up my mess, my long-suffering Mr. Warehouse got me up and put me to bed. Several hours later I awoke to the sunshine through the blinds, piercing into my life revealing the devastation that was the night before. With the help of the dog, who had now joined me in bed for a Saturday morning snooze, I got up and dressed myself in all boyfriend attire compromising of boy boxers, tracksuit bottoms and a over-sized tee, all staples for a morning after. Curling up on the sofa with pooch I sipped on my coffee and revelled in the fact that I had found my leftover Subway.
It wasn't long before I had Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb calling me wanting to know all the Gorey details of my messy night out with the lads from (ex) work. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was coming back up home for the weekend from Hampshire so we had planned to meet up and do something. We planned to meet at a local pottery place where you could invoke your creativity into some work of art on the side of a china piggy bank. Good for the soul and good for a hangover - Not that I was suffering at all really. As I sat their painting my Minnie Mouse themed piggy back I pondered across the fact that only twelve-hours previous I had been staggering up that very same High Street singing and laughing all the way and having drank copious amounts of alcohol I should have been in a much worse state than I was.
Placing our pigs and other ware's into the Kiln trays I promised to collect them in a weeks time when they had been baked and glazed. Heading out to dinner that evening I was excited for my besties to try some of what Bedford had to offer in terms of culinary delights. Mr. Warehouse and I took them to Meat Cure on the High Street (as if I didn't get enough of it the night before). The newly opened burger house had been open since maybe last summer and the menu had grown massively since then, offering more than just the six or seven burgers initially menued. Now you could dine on steak, salad, chicken and burgers all with yummy sides and extras. Tucking in we forgot slightly to leave room for pudding as we headed to a new dessert place called Dessert Island where you could drool over very reasonably priced desserts with anything from cheesecake and tarts, to ice-cream, waffles, crepes, cookie dough and sundaes.
Stuffed Mr. Warehouse and I said our goodbyes to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and promised to meet up soon for more foodie escapades. Awhh Yes! And although this weekend was slightly unplanned and a bit thrown together I enjoyed the flow and certainly will cherish some of the moments I have had, although maybe not Subway-Loo?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So following the optimism of last week's fresh adventure, again the subject of buying house is at the forefront of my mind and it would appear that there is nothing to help me get there any quicker than just saving alone. Unfortunately for me, no one rich is dying in my family and I don't think I have any wealthy relatives that are willing to lend me the cash-ola for my first home. Suffice to say that I think it's time I suck it up and just open up a help-to-buy-ISA and look forward to the next seven-years of nothingness in my life. Anyway enough with being morbid about home-ownership, I have had a laugh with some old work colleagues and some even older friends.
Working hard at my small desk in the new offices, I received a text message from one of my old work colleagues, Mr. Eagle. It was a simplistic message, stating that my old work colleagues were planning a night out in town on that Friday and I was the honorary member. Delighted that somebody had finally asked me out for a proper messy night out on the town I jumped at the chance, returning the message as soon as it hit my inbox that I most certainly would be there. Speaking to my beloved Mr. Warehouse that evening, he was already doing some overtime early on the Saturday morning so would probably give it a miss. But if I know my boyfriend I knew that he would make sure he at least came out for one drink in order to show face and tell the lad's I used to work with to watch themselves and more-so to watch out for me.
As Friday night rolled round, more than excited to get my glad-rags on and see some familiar and well missed faces. Walking into one of the many pubs along the Bedford High Street I was suddenly nervous and excited all at the same time. Only a small group of lads, mostly from the warehouse but it didn't matter for tonight was mine for the taking and as I got the round in Mr. Eagle and I caught up on the office gossip and what had been happening since I left. But as the night wore on I could tell that Mr. Warehouse was ready for bed as he and I both knew he had a very early start.
Bidding us a farewell, the boyfriend departed and we headed to the next bar along. By this point in the evening, I am almost certain that I am more than a little bit tipsy but I am loving every moment of it. Since learning to drive and getting my blessed Vivian I have always been the designated driver, rarely opting to get a cab to any social event. So this was certainly my time to get down and dirty on the dance floor whilst getting completely off my nut. And the best thing about it was that I was doing it with all of my favourite people in the whole wide world, well nearly?!
Leaving the club I don't quite remember what happened next, all I do remember is that we went to Subway. I ordered a foot-long sub and proceeded to the taxi rank. Sweet as my old work colleagues dropped me off back home and make sure that I was in through the door before heading back to their own homes themselves. I remember the bedroom light being on as it normally is when I go out on the town without my Mr. Warehouse. Slowly and quietly as possible I made it to the bathroom, where I had apparently stripped off and fallen asleep on the loo. Classy 'eh?! The next thing I know the lights are switched on and I felt as though I was in heaven it was that bright, but then came a familiar voice and it didn't seem to be too pleased with me. It was Mr. Warehouse and he had found me in a very compromised state of affairs.
With a raised voice he asked me what I was doing to which I can only assume I slurred my response. After taking my remaining six-inch subway from me (which I have since been told I was clinging onto whilst asleep), cleaning up my mess, my long-suffering Mr. Warehouse got me up and put me to bed. Several hours later I awoke to the sunshine through the blinds, piercing into my life revealing the devastation that was the night before. With the help of the dog, who had now joined me in bed for a Saturday morning snooze, I got up and dressed myself in all boyfriend attire compromising of boy boxers, tracksuit bottoms and a over-sized tee, all staples for a morning after. Curling up on the sofa with pooch I sipped on my coffee and revelled in the fact that I had found my leftover Subway.
It wasn't long before I had Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb calling me wanting to know all the Gorey details of my messy night out with the lads from (ex) work. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was coming back up home for the weekend from Hampshire so we had planned to meet up and do something. We planned to meet at a local pottery place where you could invoke your creativity into some work of art on the side of a china piggy bank. Good for the soul and good for a hangover - Not that I was suffering at all really. As I sat their painting my Minnie Mouse themed piggy back I pondered across the fact that only twelve-hours previous I had been staggering up that very same High Street singing and laughing all the way and having drank copious amounts of alcohol I should have been in a much worse state than I was.
Placing our pigs and other ware's into the Kiln trays I promised to collect them in a weeks time when they had been baked and glazed. Heading out to dinner that evening I was excited for my besties to try some of what Bedford had to offer in terms of culinary delights. Mr. Warehouse and I took them to Meat Cure on the High Street (as if I didn't get enough of it the night before). The newly opened burger house had been open since maybe last summer and the menu had grown massively since then, offering more than just the six or seven burgers initially menued. Now you could dine on steak, salad, chicken and burgers all with yummy sides and extras. Tucking in we forgot slightly to leave room for pudding as we headed to a new dessert place called Dessert Island where you could drool over very reasonably priced desserts with anything from cheesecake and tarts, to ice-cream, waffles, crepes, cookie dough and sundaes.
Stuffed Mr. Warehouse and I said our goodbyes to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and promised to meet up soon for more foodie escapades. Awhh Yes! And although this weekend was slightly unplanned and a bit thrown together I enjoyed the flow and certainly will cherish some of the moments I have had, although maybe not Subway-Loo?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 27 March 2017
Cluck! Cluck!
Evening,
Racing home from work I hurried to get ready. This was something I couldn't be late for. One of my new work colleagues (or not so new because lets be honest I have been working there for like six-months) is getting married in a matter of weeks and as an absolute surprise all the ladies in the office have got together to give her a right good old send off. I'm glad for it in all honesty since there was a time not so long ago that I felt a little left out on plans everyone made in the office.
The Plan? Nice sit down meal with great food and then on for some cocktails after that. I have come to discover that this is somewhat a standard night out with my "new" work friends. Its definitely more sophisticated to what I was usually used to back when I used to work with Miss Hackney, Mr. CWG, Mr. Warehouse and Co. Usually we would start in The Rose, a Pub/Bar on the main High Street and then progress two-doors up to something not a lot classier. Same sticky floors I remembered in college gives me the comfort I need when the balls of your feet are stinging from the skyscrapers you decided were a good idea several hours ago. All of this would be topped off with some heavy flirting (And even some petting from others I as out with), dancing until the lights come on (Or we were kicked out) and a Subway for the short walk home. Oh how I missed those nights where I could pretend to be in my late teens again without a care in the world and with some f the best people on the planet I know.
All of that seemed a world away as we sat down to our meal, Bride-to-Be surprised to the point of tears when she walked in to find us awaiting her. After the meal was finished we headed to the Cocktail Bar, loosing few faces along the way. The Auction Room is honest to god a slice of London's Soho brought to Bedford - Including the 'effing price too. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the sophisticated atmosphere and how grown up everyone is, but a little part of me knows that I will never have to sneak off for a tactical chunder whilst in there. Most of what cocktails are made of is good for you anyway right? Juices, fruit puree and fresh berries on top ... surely that has to count as one of your five-a-day?
Following an incident with some gentleman (if you can even call them that) the Hen Party and I decided to leave the pricey cocktail house. It would have appeared that when younger, sillier boys who are still in the WDK phases of nights out on the lash find a Hen Party they just can't help themselves. Tugging on our hair and yanking our sashes back that we were wearing with pride, these Dicks had no respect for women or for their last night (Or fort-night in this instance). It started I am sure, in a playful manner, not meant t annoy or offend. But it escalated quickly. After the fat chick (yes that's me I'm describing) tried to dance and flirt with them I thought it would put them off, all the other lads laughing 'cas chunky wanted a bit of the hot, young 'D'. Obviously not (Although in my head I am thinking "YES! Still got it!" when it was quite clear I never truly 'had it' in the first place)! I then tried protecting the Bride-to-Be and our Hen's with some serious awkward dancing. Nope - Still not working! And then, just as the rough play had gotten too much I decided to pull one of my last cards out of the bag ... The small willy Gag. Symbolizing the international sign for small wiener everywhere, I donned my pinkie-finger and began to action it towards what appeared to be the ring leader, again in attempt to ward off and embarrass him and his friends enough to piss off and stop harassing us like flies to shit. I wasn't to worry though for no sooner than the shocked faces and gaffaued laughter had exploded from the girls I was with it all broke down again, nearly ending with the Bride-to-Be in a punch-up of her own!
Heading for somewhere more reasonably priced it was the George & Dragon next which I kept referring to as D&G - Of which it was far from. Moments after stepping inside though I was faced with a dilemma that was all too familiar to me. After a tap on my shoulder I turned around, only to be greeted by Miss Hackney herself, along with Miss Sugarcoat and a couple of other friends of theirs. I looked over to the bar and saw my new work colleagues, beckoning me over with the tempting liquor of a Screwdriver - A staple of my night out! Again I was face with the decision of staying with friends and good company (Not that the Hen Party was not of course) or stay loyal to my new work buddies and bid Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat a farewell.
OK making it way more emotional that it sounds right now, but at the time I had a lot to drink and I was certainly feeling it enough to make a few hastily typed messages to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat asking them where they had disappeared to and if it was even all real? Was it an epiphany that I had seen them whilst blind drunk on a Hen Do?! No it turned out it was real, just they had moved on to the next sticky-floored venue in town. Suffice to say that my Friday night was eventful and I am glad to say that I am happy to be a part of a group that enjoys a messy night out, even if it starts in a slightly classier way.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Racing home from work I hurried to get ready. This was something I couldn't be late for. One of my new work colleagues (or not so new because lets be honest I have been working there for like six-months) is getting married in a matter of weeks and as an absolute surprise all the ladies in the office have got together to give her a right good old send off. I'm glad for it in all honesty since there was a time not so long ago that I felt a little left out on plans everyone made in the office.
The Plan? Nice sit down meal with great food and then on for some cocktails after that. I have come to discover that this is somewhat a standard night out with my "new" work friends. Its definitely more sophisticated to what I was usually used to back when I used to work with Miss Hackney, Mr. CWG, Mr. Warehouse and Co. Usually we would start in The Rose, a Pub/Bar on the main High Street and then progress two-doors up to something not a lot classier. Same sticky floors I remembered in college gives me the comfort I need when the balls of your feet are stinging from the skyscrapers you decided were a good idea several hours ago. All of this would be topped off with some heavy flirting (And even some petting from others I as out with), dancing until the lights come on (Or we were kicked out) and a Subway for the short walk home. Oh how I missed those nights where I could pretend to be in my late teens again without a care in the world and with some f the best people on the planet I know.
All of that seemed a world away as we sat down to our meal, Bride-to-Be surprised to the point of tears when she walked in to find us awaiting her. After the meal was finished we headed to the Cocktail Bar, loosing few faces along the way. The Auction Room is honest to god a slice of London's Soho brought to Bedford - Including the 'effing price too. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the sophisticated atmosphere and how grown up everyone is, but a little part of me knows that I will never have to sneak off for a tactical chunder whilst in there. Most of what cocktails are made of is good for you anyway right? Juices, fruit puree and fresh berries on top ... surely that has to count as one of your five-a-day?
Following an incident with some gentleman (if you can even call them that) the Hen Party and I decided to leave the pricey cocktail house. It would have appeared that when younger, sillier boys who are still in the WDK phases of nights out on the lash find a Hen Party they just can't help themselves. Tugging on our hair and yanking our sashes back that we were wearing with pride, these Dicks had no respect for women or for their last night (Or fort-night in this instance). It started I am sure, in a playful manner, not meant t annoy or offend. But it escalated quickly. After the fat chick (yes that's me I'm describing) tried to dance and flirt with them I thought it would put them off, all the other lads laughing 'cas chunky wanted a bit of the hot, young 'D'. Obviously not (Although in my head I am thinking "YES! Still got it!" when it was quite clear I never truly 'had it' in the first place)! I then tried protecting the Bride-to-Be and our Hen's with some serious awkward dancing. Nope - Still not working! And then, just as the rough play had gotten too much I decided to pull one of my last cards out of the bag ... The small willy Gag. Symbolizing the international sign for small wiener everywhere, I donned my pinkie-finger and began to action it towards what appeared to be the ring leader, again in attempt to ward off and embarrass him and his friends enough to piss off and stop harassing us like flies to shit. I wasn't to worry though for no sooner than the shocked faces and gaffaued laughter had exploded from the girls I was with it all broke down again, nearly ending with the Bride-to-Be in a punch-up of her own!
Heading for somewhere more reasonably priced it was the George & Dragon next which I kept referring to as D&G - Of which it was far from. Moments after stepping inside though I was faced with a dilemma that was all too familiar to me. After a tap on my shoulder I turned around, only to be greeted by Miss Hackney herself, along with Miss Sugarcoat and a couple of other friends of theirs. I looked over to the bar and saw my new work colleagues, beckoning me over with the tempting liquor of a Screwdriver - A staple of my night out! Again I was face with the decision of staying with friends and good company (Not that the Hen Party was not of course) or stay loyal to my new work buddies and bid Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat a farewell.
OK making it way more emotional that it sounds right now, but at the time I had a lot to drink and I was certainly feeling it enough to make a few hastily typed messages to Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat asking them where they had disappeared to and if it was even all real? Was it an epiphany that I had seen them whilst blind drunk on a Hen Do?! No it turned out it was real, just they had moved on to the next sticky-floored venue in town. Suffice to say that my Friday night was eventful and I am glad to say that I am happy to be a part of a group that enjoys a messy night out, even if it starts in a slightly classier way.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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