Hello there one and all,
I hope you are all well and that twelve days into the new year I am starting to wonder if some peoples New Years Resolutions have caved in yet. I know that mine are being stretched further and further each day. Who knew that being on time was such an effort?! Nevertheless I am thoroughly looking forward to the year ahead and in particular for events in less than eight-weeks time. I can hardly believe that my little pipe dream with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family is nearly here. It seems like only yesterday I was begging for somewhere to find the money to go and now, after working at my second job in the call centre for nearly six-months solid, listening to people moan and groan and hang-up on you I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were little-r we were obsessed with Johnny Depp. We were obsessed, watching films with even only a few seconds of his baby face in and we would coo and giggle. We all became infamous in our schools library, forever misusing our school's printer to copy reems and reems of Johnny Depp photos, sticking them everywhere from our Notebooks to our walls. We would recite lines from films and take any opportunity to turn a class project into something about J.D. Our school text books were testaments to our following, like a shrine to Mr. Depp with hopeful scrawling's of "Mrs Depp" and "Cry Baby's Baby" wishful squiggles of three girl's whom knew nothing of the world and how it worked let alone what love was and both how electrically brilliant but also earth-shatteringly devastating loving someone can be. Looking back on it, things were so different back then; everyone seemed to be richer in so many ways - Money, Friendships, Families. Life in general seems much easier as a pre-teen than as an adult.
There was one film in particular that as thirteen-year-olds my Tweedles and I took too more than others and that film was called 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', as written by the late and great Hunter S. Thompson in the 1970's and directed by Terry Gilliam in 1998, the film follows two journalists Raoul Juke, played by Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo on a drug fuelled binge through the City of Sin, Las Vegas! As a little person this was a thrilling and exciting film, if not very adult movie to be watching at such a young age. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything and scoured the internet in my lunch breaks with my best buddies by my side looking for nuggets of film-buff knowledge to gain an understanding of Johnny Depp as both an actor and a fellow human. Johnny spent four-months living in the basement of Hunter's home in pursuit of gaining a better understanding for Hunter's mannerisms and habits so as to portray the character well. It seemed normal for us as teenage girls to do the same and as I conjured up dreams of being a starlet in front of the camera whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee directed and Miss Tweedle-Dumb wrote scripts.
A few years ago I was given a blue, silken bound book, Inside it contained a little of what I have shared with you all today in regards to my friendship with my dearest friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Along with pictures of all my ex-lovers and hilarious moments up until I was twenty-one there was a Gem I had not seen in years. It was a story about three eighteen-year-old's on their first holiday. Destination. Las Vegas! Turns out in this story Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I all bump into Johnny Depp who invites us back to his and his Fiancées house (whom was Vanessa Paradis at the time) to look after his children (whom are now in there teens) and spend our holiday there. Eventually the story ends with the three of us permanently staying over there and I fall in love with an hot American waiter. Oh how I do love my best friends and the wishful life they bring me! Funny to think, looking back as Miss Tweedle-Dumb ticked away at the keyboard in the library and printed the tale in bold orange letters that little did we know within the next decade we would be planning for a trip to Sin City ourselves - Minus the Johnny Depp stalking and nanny duties ... And probably even that waiter dare I say!
Leaving the past behind me with fond memories I look forward now to when I finally board that plane. Goodbye cold, wet and possibly snowy Britain and hello to the Nevada Desert where the sun isn't the only thing that will be getting high. I did plan to loose some weight and get down to not only a figure I can be happy with but something that I can show off on social networking sites. "Look at me bitches! I am in Vegas whilst your at your desks! Ha! Oh is it raining outside. Not to worry myself about though as someone called Chad or Chuck is bringing me another Sex on the Beach!" I would say as I casually upload pictures of me in swimsuits lazing by the pool and naked on a bed full of Dollar bills. Obviously there will be the traditional photo's of the Las Vegas sign and the skyline at night. I am sure that there will be many a night spent in a casino or two, drinks flowing and bottles be popping. During the day trips to the local Mall, Markets and down-town sights will be in store as well as maybe a cheeky trip out to Area 51 and the Grand Canyon. I would love to ride horse-back through the sand dunes of the Nevada but I doubt my Tweedles will be so frivolous. Everything aside, I am thoroughly looking forward to my trip and I cannot wait to spend all of what I have been saving for the past nine-months for. Roll on March mother-crackers!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Pals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pals. Show all posts
Monday, 12 January 2015
Monday, 5 January 2015
Fiery Frumps, Fabulous Furs and Festivities Galore!
Evening All,
And a very Happy New Year to everyone. Hope 2015 has been treating you well and that you are all now mid-binge, scoffing chocolate and downing wine from all your Christmas/New Years Resolution-Detox. I love a good binge! But alas I have set myself some New Years Resolutions for myself for the coming year. Loosing weight never works and actually I think I am happy being a wobbly but normal looking lady. I am in no need to slim down because the man I am with finds me sexy just as I am. What a darling?! I am however cutting down on take-out and am sticking to once or twice a month at most. Secondly I plan to improve my time-keeping and not be late which will no end make my nearest and dearest happy, especially long suffering BFF's - Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Other than that though I have not much planned although I would like to travel more and maybe even learn to drive? No doubt I shall keep you informed on my going-on's as today I celebrate over two-years of writing for you all.
One thing that New Years also does is encourage people to get out there and drink to oblivion, partying into the wee small hours and kissing strangers at the stroke of Midnight. No this is not Cinderella, it is I ... Abbey-Lou. Despite being quite pissed by the time I left my work colleagues on Christmas Eve last week and continuing the festivities well into Christmas Day and Boxing Day (Clocking up into the double figures on bottles of Rose I might add), I still felt the need to completely obliterate myself on New Years Eve. Spending the last few hours of 2014 with Mr. Warehouse and a few friends including Mr. Creepy-Warehouse-Guy himself. Starting on the Prosecco with four-hours to go I started slow but bubbles always get me wasted and very, very quickly too. Nevertheless I was slightly sozzled by the time we reached the local pub in Marston Mortaine in Bedford.
As the evening continued I danced the night away to hits including the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and even catching the end of Mambo Number Five after being so drunk I couldn't get off the toilet. With about half hour left before the New Year Kicked in Mr. CWG suggested that beyond the children's Slide in the beer garden there were some swings. Now I love swings (Although I must stress I am no swinger although a consider-er) and upon hearing this fantastic and magical news I proceeded in platforms to discover such wonder and merriment. It was not to be found though as I soon discovered that not only was the ground soft and wet from the rain, but the grass was boggy and that it would only be a matter of time before I fell over. No sooner had I thought this I misplaced my footing and was plunged head first into a freezing cold mud pit. Tenacious through and through I stood and found my way to the swings. Cold and wet I realised that this was not one of the better ideas I had ever had and so went back to find the others and Mr. Warehouse. His face was not best pleased as I walked back through the packed public house with mud and dirt dripping from my chin to my toes.
After cleaning myself up in the toilets, finding more booze at the bar and throwing some shapes on the dance-floor I realised people were chanting. "...5...4...3...2...1..." I could hear them counting away. Realising it was finally New Year I grabbed my man and holding onto for dear life we kissed passionately before we joined a bunch of people I don't know and will never know to sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. The night concluded by me somehow getting home after falling over several more times and then being sick in Mr. Warehouse's dog's bowl. Nice! And with some recovering in the form of good food, great company and some well needed time to sober up the past few days, Mr. Warehouse and I decided to take a trip to London.
Waking early on Sunday morning Mr. Warehouse and I struggled to not to have sex with each other as normal in the mornings let alone prise ourselves from the warmth of the bed sheets. Stepping out into the icy air I thought that it would soon warm up and after postponing for a day because of the weather already I personally was determined to do something other than lounge around and waste yet another day in front of the box. But it didn't get any warmer. In fact it only got worse. Minus-two-degrees-Celsius it got yesterday. Minus-two. Now I know to some of you in other parts of the world must have thought that this kind of temperature was normal, maybe even mild, but here in Blighty it was more than just a bit nippy. Frosty fingers and thawed thighs began to melt as Starbucks trickled down our throats, easing the missing of the first train.
Soon enough though we were in the Big Smoke and strange as it were I was more anxious and dubious about going. It had been almost a year to the day that I had left London and my on/off relationship with Mr. Cheese and to be back was just odd. Constantly in a rush I kept feeling myself slip into the mode of Londoner whereby you want to get from 'A' to 'B' as quickly as possible. Nevertheless I really enjoyed my time with Mr. Warehouse, wandering around the sites of the City and major landmarks before heading to the Natural History Museum for some culture and to see stuffed animals, rather like a dead zoo. Now if you have not gone then I strongly suggest you do. Not only will you be walking around the Mammal section making up voices and tag lines for the lifeless soles but you will also be enthralled in the beauty of these creatures and just how spectacular life can be.
After a few selfies with Hippopotamuses and Porpoises alike Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the luxury that is the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea to visit one of the world's most prestigious stores ... Harrods of London! Immediately stepping out onto the Winter Knightsbridge pavement, Mr. Warehouse became alarmingly aware of his surroundings and just by looking at him you could tell he was completely out of his comfort zone. Trying to make him feel at ease I thought I would start with the Pet Shop. Asking the footman on the door as to where we were in the direction of he explained that this had been closed for more than a year. Instead I marched Mr. Warehouse and I to the womenswear department. Lift doors opening my eyes nearly exploded. All I could see was fur. Mink, Rabbit, Fox, Chinchilla and Alpaca, All of it real as life itself once was for these animals. I was in fur heaven! And the best thing about all of this was not only were the clothing and accessories made with real and bonafide, quality fur; But there was a sale on! All of the top designers were there: Gucci, Prada, Dior and my favourite Valentino were all hosting their coats and jackets. Dolce and Gabbana was one of the only boutiques I actually had a proper nose around and whilst Mr. Warehouse felt like a fish out of water I needed this. I couldn't go home to a fluffy dog and I certainly didn't have the money for the four and five figure price-tags on some of these outerwear so I had to indulge myself whenever I could.
Revelling in the luxury and hungrily running my hands over the garments made me feel happy. But my boyfriends face did not. And so sensing the shop assistant clocking that we were not here to buy and the fact that Mr. Warehouse was now tired and grumping we headed for the tube home. Unfortunately my dear lover's attention was captured by a lady at the till. Not for her stunning good looks or celebrity status, oh no! It was because she had just bought the red-dyed Mink fur cropped jacket and with a price tag more than what Mr. Warehouse earns in a year he took it completely to heart. Storming off and in a foul mood for the rest of the day until we got into bed he ranted on about this women and where her money came from, how she got it, where she spent it and what on. Nothing I did appeased him and as he ranted on about how that one item of clothing could have written off his debts more than five-times-over and how there were more deserving people of the money spent - Mainly him I figured?! He still wouldn't pipe down as we were sitting down to dinner, my treat, at Honest Burger in Kings Cross - Genuinely one of the best burgers I think you will ever have in your entire existence. If you haven't been there then go and if you have well what are you waiting for ... GO AGAIN! I think if I ever had to choose my favourite-est (yes that is a word) restaurant in the world then that would be it. With only five across the whole capital I am glad that I splurged but I just wished my boyfriend wasn't so hung up about money, especially since it wasn't even his.
Nevertheless we had a good day out and exhausted as we were we still managed to find time to fuck at the end of the day. Falling asleep in each others I whispered about how hard it is going to be not having him next to me as most if not all of the past few weeks over the Christmas and New Years break from work we have spent together, drifting off as one. I am so used to being spooned and only having to reach out for Mr. Warehouse at night, it is going to be strange not sleeping together. But alas I must oblige as the alternative of moving in with each other is far, far too soon. And besides, I like my own space and time away from him. I think it makes us stronger and better as a couple.
Looking into 2015, I don't know what the world will bring me, but one thing is for sure, this year blogging-wise I plan to continue with my life as a twenty-something and enjoy life to its fullest keeping you all in the loop and giving you the scoop on what's hot and what's not in the world of moi! I will however be trying to shorten my tales of fun and frolics as I feel they are too long sometimes. How I do love to witter on. If however you would like me to continue writing big long essay's that fill up your coffee breaks at work and evenings in bed then feel free to message me, I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions as well as any ideas for making my life a little more interesting or what you would like me to do in 2015! Serious suggestions please I do not want to be bummed by Barack Obama nor do I want to give a hand-job to a slightly aggressive Yak.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
And a very Happy New Year to everyone. Hope 2015 has been treating you well and that you are all now mid-binge, scoffing chocolate and downing wine from all your Christmas/New Years Resolution-Detox. I love a good binge! But alas I have set myself some New Years Resolutions for myself for the coming year. Loosing weight never works and actually I think I am happy being a wobbly but normal looking lady. I am in no need to slim down because the man I am with finds me sexy just as I am. What a darling?! I am however cutting down on take-out and am sticking to once or twice a month at most. Secondly I plan to improve my time-keeping and not be late which will no end make my nearest and dearest happy, especially long suffering BFF's - Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Other than that though I have not much planned although I would like to travel more and maybe even learn to drive? No doubt I shall keep you informed on my going-on's as today I celebrate over two-years of writing for you all.
One thing that New Years also does is encourage people to get out there and drink to oblivion, partying into the wee small hours and kissing strangers at the stroke of Midnight. No this is not Cinderella, it is I ... Abbey-Lou. Despite being quite pissed by the time I left my work colleagues on Christmas Eve last week and continuing the festivities well into Christmas Day and Boxing Day (Clocking up into the double figures on bottles of Rose I might add), I still felt the need to completely obliterate myself on New Years Eve. Spending the last few hours of 2014 with Mr. Warehouse and a few friends including Mr. Creepy-Warehouse-Guy himself. Starting on the Prosecco with four-hours to go I started slow but bubbles always get me wasted and very, very quickly too. Nevertheless I was slightly sozzled by the time we reached the local pub in Marston Mortaine in Bedford.
As the evening continued I danced the night away to hits including the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and even catching the end of Mambo Number Five after being so drunk I couldn't get off the toilet. With about half hour left before the New Year Kicked in Mr. CWG suggested that beyond the children's Slide in the beer garden there were some swings. Now I love swings (Although I must stress I am no swinger although a consider-er) and upon hearing this fantastic and magical news I proceeded in platforms to discover such wonder and merriment. It was not to be found though as I soon discovered that not only was the ground soft and wet from the rain, but the grass was boggy and that it would only be a matter of time before I fell over. No sooner had I thought this I misplaced my footing and was plunged head first into a freezing cold mud pit. Tenacious through and through I stood and found my way to the swings. Cold and wet I realised that this was not one of the better ideas I had ever had and so went back to find the others and Mr. Warehouse. His face was not best pleased as I walked back through the packed public house with mud and dirt dripping from my chin to my toes.
After cleaning myself up in the toilets, finding more booze at the bar and throwing some shapes on the dance-floor I realised people were chanting. "...5...4...3...2...1..." I could hear them counting away. Realising it was finally New Year I grabbed my man and holding onto for dear life we kissed passionately before we joined a bunch of people I don't know and will never know to sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. The night concluded by me somehow getting home after falling over several more times and then being sick in Mr. Warehouse's dog's bowl. Nice! And with some recovering in the form of good food, great company and some well needed time to sober up the past few days, Mr. Warehouse and I decided to take a trip to London.
Waking early on Sunday morning Mr. Warehouse and I struggled to not to have sex with each other as normal in the mornings let alone prise ourselves from the warmth of the bed sheets. Stepping out into the icy air I thought that it would soon warm up and after postponing for a day because of the weather already I personally was determined to do something other than lounge around and waste yet another day in front of the box. But it didn't get any warmer. In fact it only got worse. Minus-two-degrees-Celsius it got yesterday. Minus-two. Now I know to some of you in other parts of the world must have thought that this kind of temperature was normal, maybe even mild, but here in Blighty it was more than just a bit nippy. Frosty fingers and thawed thighs began to melt as Starbucks trickled down our throats, easing the missing of the first train.
Soon enough though we were in the Big Smoke and strange as it were I was more anxious and dubious about going. It had been almost a year to the day that I had left London and my on/off relationship with Mr. Cheese and to be back was just odd. Constantly in a rush I kept feeling myself slip into the mode of Londoner whereby you want to get from 'A' to 'B' as quickly as possible. Nevertheless I really enjoyed my time with Mr. Warehouse, wandering around the sites of the City and major landmarks before heading to the Natural History Museum for some culture and to see stuffed animals, rather like a dead zoo. Now if you have not gone then I strongly suggest you do. Not only will you be walking around the Mammal section making up voices and tag lines for the lifeless soles but you will also be enthralled in the beauty of these creatures and just how spectacular life can be.
After a few selfies with Hippopotamuses and Porpoises alike Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the luxury that is the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea to visit one of the world's most prestigious stores ... Harrods of London! Immediately stepping out onto the Winter Knightsbridge pavement, Mr. Warehouse became alarmingly aware of his surroundings and just by looking at him you could tell he was completely out of his comfort zone. Trying to make him feel at ease I thought I would start with the Pet Shop. Asking the footman on the door as to where we were in the direction of he explained that this had been closed for more than a year. Instead I marched Mr. Warehouse and I to the womenswear department. Lift doors opening my eyes nearly exploded. All I could see was fur. Mink, Rabbit, Fox, Chinchilla and Alpaca, All of it real as life itself once was for these animals. I was in fur heaven! And the best thing about all of this was not only were the clothing and accessories made with real and bonafide, quality fur; But there was a sale on! All of the top designers were there: Gucci, Prada, Dior and my favourite Valentino were all hosting their coats and jackets. Dolce and Gabbana was one of the only boutiques I actually had a proper nose around and whilst Mr. Warehouse felt like a fish out of water I needed this. I couldn't go home to a fluffy dog and I certainly didn't have the money for the four and five figure price-tags on some of these outerwear so I had to indulge myself whenever I could.
Revelling in the luxury and hungrily running my hands over the garments made me feel happy. But my boyfriends face did not. And so sensing the shop assistant clocking that we were not here to buy and the fact that Mr. Warehouse was now tired and grumping we headed for the tube home. Unfortunately my dear lover's attention was captured by a lady at the till. Not for her stunning good looks or celebrity status, oh no! It was because she had just bought the red-dyed Mink fur cropped jacket and with a price tag more than what Mr. Warehouse earns in a year he took it completely to heart. Storming off and in a foul mood for the rest of the day until we got into bed he ranted on about this women and where her money came from, how she got it, where she spent it and what on. Nothing I did appeased him and as he ranted on about how that one item of clothing could have written off his debts more than five-times-over and how there were more deserving people of the money spent - Mainly him I figured?! He still wouldn't pipe down as we were sitting down to dinner, my treat, at Honest Burger in Kings Cross - Genuinely one of the best burgers I think you will ever have in your entire existence. If you haven't been there then go and if you have well what are you waiting for ... GO AGAIN! I think if I ever had to choose my favourite-est (yes that is a word) restaurant in the world then that would be it. With only five across the whole capital I am glad that I splurged but I just wished my boyfriend wasn't so hung up about money, especially since it wasn't even his.
Nevertheless we had a good day out and exhausted as we were we still managed to find time to fuck at the end of the day. Falling asleep in each others I whispered about how hard it is going to be not having him next to me as most if not all of the past few weeks over the Christmas and New Years break from work we have spent together, drifting off as one. I am so used to being spooned and only having to reach out for Mr. Warehouse at night, it is going to be strange not sleeping together. But alas I must oblige as the alternative of moving in with each other is far, far too soon. And besides, I like my own space and time away from him. I think it makes us stronger and better as a couple.
Looking into 2015, I don't know what the world will bring me, but one thing is for sure, this year blogging-wise I plan to continue with my life as a twenty-something and enjoy life to its fullest keeping you all in the loop and giving you the scoop on what's hot and what's not in the world of moi! I will however be trying to shorten my tales of fun and frolics as I feel they are too long sometimes. How I do love to witter on. If however you would like me to continue writing big long essay's that fill up your coffee breaks at work and evenings in bed then feel free to message me, I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions as well as any ideas for making my life a little more interesting or what you would like me to do in 2015! Serious suggestions please I do not want to be bummed by Barack Obama nor do I want to give a hand-job to a slightly aggressive Yak.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 10 February 2014
An All Rounded Weekend ...
Evening All,
So after last week's roller-coaster of emotions with the slightly overdue epiphany that maybe I should give men a rest. What with the likes of Mr. Cheese, Mr. Rockclimber and others to add to the list it is unsurprising that whilst I want and adore the attention, my heart is still uneasy with the absence of part of it. Since our last encounter several weeks ago things have been getting easier for me after Mr. Cheese and I went separate ways, although as anticipated it would not be the last time I see him as there is still some items of mine Mr. Cheese has to return. I am hoping to get them soon so as not to drag our last meeting out.
Irrespective of Mr. Cheese I have found a new lease of life. I now spend my evenings cooking and cleaning and setting up my little home in the suburbs and am revealing in life's perks at present. My goodness I need to get out more - I'm one step away from being surrounded by cats and becoming that lady who screams at eggs in the supermarket! This week has been a hard one. After being shown the ropes I have been left pretty much to my own devices in my new job as Credit Control Administrator. It is tough being the new kid in the job and whilst I love the people I work with and the company itself, I really worry that I'm going to miss calling business' up and demanding money that is overdue. Nevertheless the wage isn't bad and the hours are good so I cant complain too much. I seem to be picking things up quickly but with only a few days left before the lady I'm covering leaves for her maternity-time I'm panicking I wont be able to pick up everything.
Friday after finishing work I made my way to my hometown of Dunstable to meet with an old friend who is a bride-to-be in less than four-month's time. A few months ago she approached me with the proposal of being the photographer for the Wedding. Shocked and honoured I agreed but the idea of being solely responsible for photo's that will not only last a life time but will span generations is daunting. Selfie I can do, and do very well too, but Wedding photography I'm not so sure on. I will give it a go and will attempt my very, very best but if they look like a four-year-old just stole a Canon then don't blame me. Despite my reservations I went round the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. for dinner and to discuss protocol and bounce ideas around. It was a wonderful evening and got me ridiculously excited for the big day. I think I may need an assistant and might have to call a few favours in from some old college pals, because come-on the Champagne isn't going to drink itself!?
Saturday was a hectic and busy day as Dad picked my up to help decorate the hall for his girlfriends 50th surprise birthday party that evening. I was excited, not just for the party but also just to be able to spend time with my Dad. Most of the time whilst setting everything up we never said a word to each other, but it was just nice being in the same room as each other, enjoying the silence we shared. Saturday night though was a different kettle of fish as Dad had left me in charge of the venue and its guests totalling nearly one-hundred and fifty. Pacing around the hall I was beginning to panic. I was meant to have a text to let me know they were on their way. Just as I was about to have a bathroom stop something buzzed in my palm. Daddy! Both him and the birthday gal were on their way. Less than two minutes now to turn the lights down, music off and every single man women and child silenced. Thankfully all went swimmingly and I pulled off the show, well, sort of!
After the stresses of anticipating the last guests of the evening I could relax and taking a sip of my drink I knew tonight would be good. By the end of the evening myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were on the dance floor throwing some shapes that would make a raver look mad. Feeling tipsy from all the alcohol we had sneaked in I didn't care for the empty dance-floor and wiggled about to some of my favourite songs, much to the dismay of Miss Tweedle-Dee who sat at our table wishing we would stop the cringey moves. After hours of dancing, consumption of cake and party food as well as lots of mingling we called it a night and headed home before my Father roped us all in to the cleaning up.
Sunday morning came as a freezing cold breath of fresh air as I awoke on the small floor space of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's bedroom floor. Appreciative for the bed but not so much for the temperature I rolled over only to be greeted by her beady eyes glaring down from her duvet whilst chowing down on the leftovers from the night before. Between laughs and giggles, inside jokes and past awkward moments being relived we wasted several hours lying in talking and chuckling. Finally we made the decision that we would go into the local town and hit up some Sunday shopping, but by the time we got there it was only a few hours to closing time. A scrumptious roast dinner from Mummy Tweedle-Dumb and afterwards I finally made my way home to Bedford.
What a weekend! And to think that it is already February. Where has the time gone? Where does it go? Before you know it I'll be writing to you from somewhere muddy, recovering from a hangover and living with the regrets of the days and nights before because this year I am going to my first ever festival. Roll on Reading Festival 2014!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week's roller-coaster of emotions with the slightly overdue epiphany that maybe I should give men a rest. What with the likes of Mr. Cheese, Mr. Rockclimber and others to add to the list it is unsurprising that whilst I want and adore the attention, my heart is still uneasy with the absence of part of it. Since our last encounter several weeks ago things have been getting easier for me after Mr. Cheese and I went separate ways, although as anticipated it would not be the last time I see him as there is still some items of mine Mr. Cheese has to return. I am hoping to get them soon so as not to drag our last meeting out.
Irrespective of Mr. Cheese I have found a new lease of life. I now spend my evenings cooking and cleaning and setting up my little home in the suburbs and am revealing in life's perks at present. My goodness I need to get out more - I'm one step away from being surrounded by cats and becoming that lady who screams at eggs in the supermarket! This week has been a hard one. After being shown the ropes I have been left pretty much to my own devices in my new job as Credit Control Administrator. It is tough being the new kid in the job and whilst I love the people I work with and the company itself, I really worry that I'm going to miss calling business' up and demanding money that is overdue. Nevertheless the wage isn't bad and the hours are good so I cant complain too much. I seem to be picking things up quickly but with only a few days left before the lady I'm covering leaves for her maternity-time I'm panicking I wont be able to pick up everything.
Friday after finishing work I made my way to my hometown of Dunstable to meet with an old friend who is a bride-to-be in less than four-month's time. A few months ago she approached me with the proposal of being the photographer for the Wedding. Shocked and honoured I agreed but the idea of being solely responsible for photo's that will not only last a life time but will span generations is daunting. Selfie I can do, and do very well too, but Wedding photography I'm not so sure on. I will give it a go and will attempt my very, very best but if they look like a four-year-old just stole a Canon then don't blame me. Despite my reservations I went round the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. for dinner and to discuss protocol and bounce ideas around. It was a wonderful evening and got me ridiculously excited for the big day. I think I may need an assistant and might have to call a few favours in from some old college pals, because come-on the Champagne isn't going to drink itself!?
Saturday was a hectic and busy day as Dad picked my up to help decorate the hall for his girlfriends 50th surprise birthday party that evening. I was excited, not just for the party but also just to be able to spend time with my Dad. Most of the time whilst setting everything up we never said a word to each other, but it was just nice being in the same room as each other, enjoying the silence we shared. Saturday night though was a different kettle of fish as Dad had left me in charge of the venue and its guests totalling nearly one-hundred and fifty. Pacing around the hall I was beginning to panic. I was meant to have a text to let me know they were on their way. Just as I was about to have a bathroom stop something buzzed in my palm. Daddy! Both him and the birthday gal were on their way. Less than two minutes now to turn the lights down, music off and every single man women and child silenced. Thankfully all went swimmingly and I pulled off the show, well, sort of!
After the stresses of anticipating the last guests of the evening I could relax and taking a sip of my drink I knew tonight would be good. By the end of the evening myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were on the dance floor throwing some shapes that would make a raver look mad. Feeling tipsy from all the alcohol we had sneaked in I didn't care for the empty dance-floor and wiggled about to some of my favourite songs, much to the dismay of Miss Tweedle-Dee who sat at our table wishing we would stop the cringey moves. After hours of dancing, consumption of cake and party food as well as lots of mingling we called it a night and headed home before my Father roped us all in to the cleaning up.
Sunday morning came as a freezing cold breath of fresh air as I awoke on the small floor space of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's bedroom floor. Appreciative for the bed but not so much for the temperature I rolled over only to be greeted by her beady eyes glaring down from her duvet whilst chowing down on the leftovers from the night before. Between laughs and giggles, inside jokes and past awkward moments being relived we wasted several hours lying in talking and chuckling. Finally we made the decision that we would go into the local town and hit up some Sunday shopping, but by the time we got there it was only a few hours to closing time. A scrumptious roast dinner from Mummy Tweedle-Dumb and afterwards I finally made my way home to Bedford.
What a weekend! And to think that it is already February. Where has the time gone? Where does it go? Before you know it I'll be writing to you from somewhere muddy, recovering from a hangover and living with the regrets of the days and nights before because this year I am going to my first ever festival. Roll on Reading Festival 2014!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 27 January 2014
A Greek Tragedy
Hi,
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Royalty, Romance and Relationships
Hello,
Well firstly thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. Weather it was birthday messages or spending quality time with the Queen herself (Me!) and I would just like to tell you all how appreciated it was to have you share my day. So much better than last year. Now all that soppiness is over and done with there is pressing matters to be dealt with and much gossip that must be told so on with the show!
As the sun set on the evening of my twenty-second year on this planet and with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweeedle-Dee and Miss Stuu close behind I strut my stuff down the wobbly pavements of town . I could see him. Fluffy, Beatles hair cut, jeans and a smart blazer. Mr. Cheese was waiting for me and my entourage. Just as I finished the introductions Miss Chocolate arrived from parking the car and again the meet and greet began. Nausea taking a hold of me, we made our way into the restaurant and sat down. Softly touching my thigh Mr. Cheese lent over as everyone was busy reading their menu's and shuffled a envelope towards my pile of presents and cards my friends had bestowed upon me. Whispering in my ear he told me that I would have my presents on Sunday when he planned to take me on a surprise day out somewhere special. Lightly and swiftly kissing me on the cheek he turned to his menu too. Think he had got away with a cheeky peck in front of my friends I smiled to myself, but everyone had seen I was sure. After ordering food came the presents. Cards first and I saved Mr. Cheese's for last. Not expecting anything at all I opened the card and read some sweet verse and then the sign off. Love! Mr. Cheese signed my card with love. Yeah, I totally didn't read into that too much! Not ...
Once the presents were unwrapped and I discovered the Tweedle's had bought me some make-up and an Ice-Cream Maker and Miss Chocolate a muffin stand the conversation swiftly moved to deeper waters. As the girls interacted with him he seemed at ease discussing with them anecdotes of school life and sharing stories of when we were all younger. In between conversing about topical subjects I would catch Mr. Cheese looking at me so fondly I started to melt. Glancing over I could see in his eyes that maybe. No, defiantly this was the start of something special and romantic. Talk continued but I could tell with the looks that everyone else was giving me around the table, I wasn't the only one to notice Mr. Cheese's admiring stares. So much fun was had it was soon realised that we had spent nearly three hours in the restaurant. As it was midweek I suggested that we all made a move.
After waving goodbye to Miss Chocolate we all bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's new car called Christian and headed back to my place. Trundling upstairs with all my presents I was glad to be home and whilst Mr. Cheese, Miss Stuu and I giggling at photo's on my wall I heard singing coming from the hallway when all of a sudden I was presented with a massive chocolate cake (think along the lines of the film 'Matilda' and you'll be on the right tracks) with two candles in the middle saying twenty-two. It was all too much. Mr. Cheese, the Girls, the nice meal, the presents and the memoirs of just twelve months ago was all so emotional that I nearly cried. I didn't but I welled up alot. After that episode everyone left me and Mr. Cheese, on the homeward bound after a long night I could understand why they wanted their beds. I did too. But for other reasons ...
After a few quiet and very tiring days in my new job I was looking forward to the weekend although I knew it would be busy. Finally Saturday arrived and it was time to get my party on! Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Pea (a friend of the Tweedle's and mine) and Miss Stuu all arrived and as the sun went down the bottle came up. Playing drinking games with a pack of 1970's style porn cards and taking shots in between doing hair, make-up and getting dressed was what a standard night out began with.
Arriving at the Town Centre we headed straight for a local bar and then onto a Club. The atmosphere was hot and sticky but I was already a little bit drunk and so was looking forward to more drinks with my posse. Grabbing some drinks from the bar we headed to the dance floor where me and the others broke out the moves. On the man scale, Bedford wasn't awful, but it wasn't no cock-celebration either. Although Me and Miss Stuu didn't seem to mind when we were standing on the platform in the middle of the floor surrounded by men just jumping and dancing to club anthems whilst holding onto each other for dear life in case one of us got swept away by the sea of testosterone. Everything was going so well. There was dancing and singing and Miss Tweedle-Dee even had some stick-on moustaches to make our night extra memorable. That was until the Disc-Jockey reminded me of how different it could have all been.
A song. But not just any old song. It was mine and Mr. Workaholic's song. The one we first danced to. The one we promised to slow dance at our wedding to. The one we said we would sing lullabies to our children with. Our song. So there I was as the first few strum's of the guitar rang out across the club I looked up to the ceiling. I felt someone grab my hand and squeeze it hard as hot, painful tears spilled out over my cheeks. I looked down to see the concerned faces of my best friends. shouting at me not to cry I wiped my tears and sang along as my heart began splinter. In those few minutes that seemed like a lifetime I was reminded just how far I had come since then and how much better and stronger I am for it. Fuck him! Yeah! Fuck you Mr. Workaholic! Go eat a rattle-snake!
Falling into bed at 4.30am after a heavy night of partying and drinking with friends I drifted off to sleep between the Tweedles in my king-size bed knowing that in a matter of hours I would be in the company of Mr. Cheese. Although waking in the morning was another thing. It looked as though someone had thrown a grenade into my flat and shut the door! Safe to say that the clean up operation took sometime, but with many hands making light work it was soon spick and span. Once I had confirmation that Mr. Cheese was en-route to mine everyone scarpered except Miss Tweedle-Dumb who stopped to collect her things at a more leisurely pace which I liked. Secretly I think she wanted to see what I had got from Mr. Cheese for my birthday. Well she didn't have long to wait as I had barely put the washing on before the doorbell rang. Answering it I was thrust a massive bunch of blue, white and red flowers including roses and my favorite - Gerbera's! Shocked I took him and the flowers straight upstairs and let him meet Miss Tweedle-Dumb again before she left for her own Boyfriend's.
After waffling for a couple of hours I opened the rest of my presents from Mr. Cheese - A beautiful Butterfly necklace (Ironically picked because of the connotations surrounding our first date) and some trinkets for my house including a romantic candle. We decided to head out into the blisteringly hot weather and have a picnic. And boy does this one know how to do picnic's. Reducing my attempts at a picnic a few weeks ago in London, Mr. Cheese pulls from the boot of his car a proper woollen blanket, fully embroidered with sheep and a Fortnum and Mason picnic hamper basket complete with cutlery and plates. Refreshments consisted of fruit, handmade sandwiches, homegrown salad, cake, juice, crisps, scotch eggs and sausage rolls. To wash it all down he provided me with a special bottle of bubbly. Romance level: Expert!
Once we had nearly died from heat-stroke we headed back to his car and made our way to my secret day out. Where too? A local Safari Park where we basically drove around looking at endangered and rare wild animals thinking out loud and discussing what they would taste like. We established that Rhino would taste nice and Ostriches would make me a nice handbag. By the time we got to the monkey's we were full on kitting ourselves our a whole wardrobe and as one primate placed himself in prime position on the windshield of the car we agreed that it would make at least one pair of slippers - Finished off with a Monkey bobble head for the toes. And before all you PETA and RSPCA guys jump on your band-wagon, don't get anal about it, we were having fun. I would never hurt a fly let alone a furry thing! Although just as a discretionary note; I have eaten Ostrich and Kangaroo. Both were very tasty!
The rest of Sunday was spent walking around the small foot-zoo making animal noises and gazing into each others eyes with only admiration. The evening was not an early one as hoped for but was laid back and as romantic as one could wish for. Finally though it seems after having a blissful week and somewhat talking to Mr, Cheese about how many questions I had, I feel that although not all of them are fully satisfied, I know that the majority of them are answered fully and can now be put to bed. Although a few questions still remain I know that in time they will be solved.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Well firstly thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. Weather it was birthday messages or spending quality time with the Queen herself (Me!) and I would just like to tell you all how appreciated it was to have you share my day. So much better than last year. Now all that soppiness is over and done with there is pressing matters to be dealt with and much gossip that must be told so on with the show!
As the sun set on the evening of my twenty-second year on this planet and with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweeedle-Dee and Miss Stuu close behind I strut my stuff down the wobbly pavements of town . I could see him. Fluffy, Beatles hair cut, jeans and a smart blazer. Mr. Cheese was waiting for me and my entourage. Just as I finished the introductions Miss Chocolate arrived from parking the car and again the meet and greet began. Nausea taking a hold of me, we made our way into the restaurant and sat down. Softly touching my thigh Mr. Cheese lent over as everyone was busy reading their menu's and shuffled a envelope towards my pile of presents and cards my friends had bestowed upon me. Whispering in my ear he told me that I would have my presents on Sunday when he planned to take me on a surprise day out somewhere special. Lightly and swiftly kissing me on the cheek he turned to his menu too. Think he had got away with a cheeky peck in front of my friends I smiled to myself, but everyone had seen I was sure. After ordering food came the presents. Cards first and I saved Mr. Cheese's for last. Not expecting anything at all I opened the card and read some sweet verse and then the sign off. Love! Mr. Cheese signed my card with love. Yeah, I totally didn't read into that too much! Not ...
Once the presents were unwrapped and I discovered the Tweedle's had bought me some make-up and an Ice-Cream Maker and Miss Chocolate a muffin stand the conversation swiftly moved to deeper waters. As the girls interacted with him he seemed at ease discussing with them anecdotes of school life and sharing stories of when we were all younger. In between conversing about topical subjects I would catch Mr. Cheese looking at me so fondly I started to melt. Glancing over I could see in his eyes that maybe. No, defiantly this was the start of something special and romantic. Talk continued but I could tell with the looks that everyone else was giving me around the table, I wasn't the only one to notice Mr. Cheese's admiring stares. So much fun was had it was soon realised that we had spent nearly three hours in the restaurant. As it was midweek I suggested that we all made a move.
After waving goodbye to Miss Chocolate we all bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's new car called Christian and headed back to my place. Trundling upstairs with all my presents I was glad to be home and whilst Mr. Cheese, Miss Stuu and I giggling at photo's on my wall I heard singing coming from the hallway when all of a sudden I was presented with a massive chocolate cake (think along the lines of the film 'Matilda' and you'll be on the right tracks) with two candles in the middle saying twenty-two. It was all too much. Mr. Cheese, the Girls, the nice meal, the presents and the memoirs of just twelve months ago was all so emotional that I nearly cried. I didn't but I welled up alot. After that episode everyone left me and Mr. Cheese, on the homeward bound after a long night I could understand why they wanted their beds. I did too. But for other reasons ...
After a few quiet and very tiring days in my new job I was looking forward to the weekend although I knew it would be busy. Finally Saturday arrived and it was time to get my party on! Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Pea (a friend of the Tweedle's and mine) and Miss Stuu all arrived and as the sun went down the bottle came up. Playing drinking games with a pack of 1970's style porn cards and taking shots in between doing hair, make-up and getting dressed was what a standard night out began with.
Arriving at the Town Centre we headed straight for a local bar and then onto a Club. The atmosphere was hot and sticky but I was already a little bit drunk and so was looking forward to more drinks with my posse. Grabbing some drinks from the bar we headed to the dance floor where me and the others broke out the moves. On the man scale, Bedford wasn't awful, but it wasn't no cock-celebration either. Although Me and Miss Stuu didn't seem to mind when we were standing on the platform in the middle of the floor surrounded by men just jumping and dancing to club anthems whilst holding onto each other for dear life in case one of us got swept away by the sea of testosterone. Everything was going so well. There was dancing and singing and Miss Tweedle-Dee even had some stick-on moustaches to make our night extra memorable. That was until the Disc-Jockey reminded me of how different it could have all been.
A song. But not just any old song. It was mine and Mr. Workaholic's song. The one we first danced to. The one we promised to slow dance at our wedding to. The one we said we would sing lullabies to our children with. Our song. So there I was as the first few strum's of the guitar rang out across the club I looked up to the ceiling. I felt someone grab my hand and squeeze it hard as hot, painful tears spilled out over my cheeks. I looked down to see the concerned faces of my best friends. shouting at me not to cry I wiped my tears and sang along as my heart began splinter. In those few minutes that seemed like a lifetime I was reminded just how far I had come since then and how much better and stronger I am for it. Fuck him! Yeah! Fuck you Mr. Workaholic! Go eat a rattle-snake!
Falling into bed at 4.30am after a heavy night of partying and drinking with friends I drifted off to sleep between the Tweedles in my king-size bed knowing that in a matter of hours I would be in the company of Mr. Cheese. Although waking in the morning was another thing. It looked as though someone had thrown a grenade into my flat and shut the door! Safe to say that the clean up operation took sometime, but with many hands making light work it was soon spick and span. Once I had confirmation that Mr. Cheese was en-route to mine everyone scarpered except Miss Tweedle-Dumb who stopped to collect her things at a more leisurely pace which I liked. Secretly I think she wanted to see what I had got from Mr. Cheese for my birthday. Well she didn't have long to wait as I had barely put the washing on before the doorbell rang. Answering it I was thrust a massive bunch of blue, white and red flowers including roses and my favorite - Gerbera's! Shocked I took him and the flowers straight upstairs and let him meet Miss Tweedle-Dumb again before she left for her own Boyfriend's.
After waffling for a couple of hours I opened the rest of my presents from Mr. Cheese - A beautiful Butterfly necklace (Ironically picked because of the connotations surrounding our first date) and some trinkets for my house including a romantic candle. We decided to head out into the blisteringly hot weather and have a picnic. And boy does this one know how to do picnic's. Reducing my attempts at a picnic a few weeks ago in London, Mr. Cheese pulls from the boot of his car a proper woollen blanket, fully embroidered with sheep and a Fortnum and Mason picnic hamper basket complete with cutlery and plates. Refreshments consisted of fruit, handmade sandwiches, homegrown salad, cake, juice, crisps, scotch eggs and sausage rolls. To wash it all down he provided me with a special bottle of bubbly. Romance level: Expert!
Once we had nearly died from heat-stroke we headed back to his car and made our way to my secret day out. Where too? A local Safari Park where we basically drove around looking at endangered and rare wild animals thinking out loud and discussing what they would taste like. We established that Rhino would taste nice and Ostriches would make me a nice handbag. By the time we got to the monkey's we were full on kitting ourselves our a whole wardrobe and as one primate placed himself in prime position on the windshield of the car we agreed that it would make at least one pair of slippers - Finished off with a Monkey bobble head for the toes. And before all you PETA and RSPCA guys jump on your band-wagon, don't get anal about it, we were having fun. I would never hurt a fly let alone a furry thing! Although just as a discretionary note; I have eaten Ostrich and Kangaroo. Both were very tasty!
The rest of Sunday was spent walking around the small foot-zoo making animal noises and gazing into each others eyes with only admiration. The evening was not an early one as hoped for but was laid back and as romantic as one could wish for. Finally though it seems after having a blissful week and somewhat talking to Mr, Cheese about how many questions I had, I feel that although not all of them are fully satisfied, I know that the majority of them are answered fully and can now be put to bed. Although a few questions still remain I know that in time they will be solved.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 10 September 2013
Not A Cloud In The Sky
Hello everyone,
So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...
After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor.
After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women.
The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self.
Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought.
The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?
I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though, for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time.
I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.
All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...
After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor.
After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women.
The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self.
Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought.
The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?
I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though, for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time.
I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.
All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
The Fallen Gods Of Tin Foil ...
Hello,
So after last week's spur of the moment passion with Mr. Cheese I have been rather lonely this week. Its surprising how much you miss someone when they're not texting or emailing you constantly. Obviously I would never tell Mr. Cheese to his face that I missed him and that every moment was a complete drag as I did not have his prose and linguistics to keep me entertained. Well at least not until he says it first! Haha.
After receiving several emails from Mr. Cheese I am glad to say that whilst I am really enjoying this sudden change in my love life, I am not wholly kean on the idea of a full blown relationship. Besides, if I am brutally honest I still would like to live life as a Singleton. Not in a slaggy way but I enjoy the fact that I can make time for myself, friends and family without having to think what the other-half will think of me spending my time. I'm happy to have Mr. Cheese though don't get me wrong, but the word 'Boyfriend' still scares me. Mr. Cheese and I have discussed this however and we are both happy being as we are with no labels and no stamp to drag us down. But since our discussion I have found myself stumbling upon possibilities and I would not be impartial to the idea now it has been temporarily decided. Not right away though. Don't want to wish away my freedom yet!
But yes I feel myself more accepting of him now than before. Maybe because I am slowly in control of my falling but also because he is sooo different to all of the others? He is not perfect. But then again who is. I sure as hell am not, so why should I expect someone I'm dating to be. I think that ever since Mr. Workaholic and I split I can now see that whilst you may think you have 'The One' and 'Mr. Perfect' they are probably in disguise - A horrible, ogre-like, weedy creature underneath the mask who is horrible to you but all you see is their beauty and perfection. I suppose love really does make you blind! What I think I need is a knight in shining armour, maybe on a zebra steed ... Or just a bumbling buffoon in tin foil that can make me happy. Not much to ask for I think?
Now, as you may know already some of you, it has been a Bank Holiday here in the UK, and for once I actually didn't end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Mainly because Miss Chocolate was packing for a family holiday and Miss Tweedle-Dumb was visiting the boyfriend. Oh and everyone else who had money was off gallivanting to festivals left, right and centre. So that left little old me on my todd wondering what to do this Bank Holiday and after working a long day on Saturday all I wanted was good company and giggles - So I plan a Slumber Party!
After finishing work at eight in the evening I call up my friend Miss Tweedle-Dee and arrange for her to come over to my new place and we can watch scary films, I'll laugh, she'll secretly defecate herself and we'll gossip till the sun comes up - Or until we both get so tired we spoon in my silken bedsheets until we both fall asleep. Boy did we have a good night. After arguing with my games console for not accepting my DVD of a (really awful) horror flick I turned to my laptop to save the day and we snuggled on the sofa to enjoy. So shit was it we ended up talking about more pressing matters like why I can strangely smell a strong scent of sweet, ripening banana's and she cannot. Miss Tweedle-Dee said that it is a common occurrence for the recently deceased to let a loved one know they are with them by injecting the room with a strong smell of something they associate with that person - Although neither of us knew anybody with a strong passion for banana's. So we put this down to the fact that our dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb loathes blackening banana's and that maybe she was dead and was trying to give us a sign. Thankfully Miss Tweedle-Dumb is not dead and is alive and well.
Sunday morning rolled around and what a better way to wake up than being told you have hideous morning breath by your best-friend, Miss Tweedle-Dee. Hmmm, Like her shit don't stink?! Thinking of things to do we lounged in bed and came up with a brilliant idea to go to a gay bar. Now I am sure that from the amount of Mr's I talk about I am defiantly loving the cock but we thought it would be a good idea since we had heard some good things from people about a couple of local bars. Unfortunately though we both got lazy and couldn't be arsed. Maybe some other time I shall enlighten you all with a story about how I went to a gay bar once and maybe how I was mistaken for a transvestite. Maybe. I hope not that story though. Mind you I do have a habit of getting the best tales from going out and about. Eh, you never know I might bump into the ever promiscuous bi-curious Mr. Workaholic Haha!
And so the rest of the Bank Holiday has passed in a breeze. Apart from Saturday of course - That was great, a chilled out, relaxed but somewhat boring weekend to say the least spent indulging in my love for odd looking comedians and boy bands with long hair that a twenty-something really shouldn't be into. And now it is that I commence my second and final few days without that Cheesey goodness. I have actually been planning our fourth date over the past week and it is coming along splendidly but I shall reveal all in a couple of weeks after we finally go on it as I wouldn't ruin the surprise for you all. Besides, it wont just be the daylight hours I shall be talking about if you know what I mean ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week's spur of the moment passion with Mr. Cheese I have been rather lonely this week. Its surprising how much you miss someone when they're not texting or emailing you constantly. Obviously I would never tell Mr. Cheese to his face that I missed him and that every moment was a complete drag as I did not have his prose and linguistics to keep me entertained. Well at least not until he says it first! Haha.
After receiving several emails from Mr. Cheese I am glad to say that whilst I am really enjoying this sudden change in my love life, I am not wholly kean on the idea of a full blown relationship. Besides, if I am brutally honest I still would like to live life as a Singleton. Not in a slaggy way but I enjoy the fact that I can make time for myself, friends and family without having to think what the other-half will think of me spending my time. I'm happy to have Mr. Cheese though don't get me wrong, but the word 'Boyfriend' still scares me. Mr. Cheese and I have discussed this however and we are both happy being as we are with no labels and no stamp to drag us down. But since our discussion I have found myself stumbling upon possibilities and I would not be impartial to the idea now it has been temporarily decided. Not right away though. Don't want to wish away my freedom yet!
But yes I feel myself more accepting of him now than before. Maybe because I am slowly in control of my falling but also because he is sooo different to all of the others? He is not perfect. But then again who is. I sure as hell am not, so why should I expect someone I'm dating to be. I think that ever since Mr. Workaholic and I split I can now see that whilst you may think you have 'The One' and 'Mr. Perfect' they are probably in disguise - A horrible, ogre-like, weedy creature underneath the mask who is horrible to you but all you see is their beauty and perfection. I suppose love really does make you blind! What I think I need is a knight in shining armour, maybe on a zebra steed ... Or just a bumbling buffoon in tin foil that can make me happy. Not much to ask for I think?
Now, as you may know already some of you, it has been a Bank Holiday here in the UK, and for once I actually didn't end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Mainly because Miss Chocolate was packing for a family holiday and Miss Tweedle-Dumb was visiting the boyfriend. Oh and everyone else who had money was off gallivanting to festivals left, right and centre. So that left little old me on my todd wondering what to do this Bank Holiday and after working a long day on Saturday all I wanted was good company and giggles - So I plan a Slumber Party!
After finishing work at eight in the evening I call up my friend Miss Tweedle-Dee and arrange for her to come over to my new place and we can watch scary films, I'll laugh, she'll secretly defecate herself and we'll gossip till the sun comes up - Or until we both get so tired we spoon in my silken bedsheets until we both fall asleep. Boy did we have a good night. After arguing with my games console for not accepting my DVD of a (really awful) horror flick I turned to my laptop to save the day and we snuggled on the sofa to enjoy. So shit was it we ended up talking about more pressing matters like why I can strangely smell a strong scent of sweet, ripening banana's and she cannot. Miss Tweedle-Dee said that it is a common occurrence for the recently deceased to let a loved one know they are with them by injecting the room with a strong smell of something they associate with that person - Although neither of us knew anybody with a strong passion for banana's. So we put this down to the fact that our dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb loathes blackening banana's and that maybe she was dead and was trying to give us a sign. Thankfully Miss Tweedle-Dumb is not dead and is alive and well.
Sunday morning rolled around and what a better way to wake up than being told you have hideous morning breath by your best-friend, Miss Tweedle-Dee. Hmmm, Like her shit don't stink?! Thinking of things to do we lounged in bed and came up with a brilliant idea to go to a gay bar. Now I am sure that from the amount of Mr's I talk about I am defiantly loving the cock but we thought it would be a good idea since we had heard some good things from people about a couple of local bars. Unfortunately though we both got lazy and couldn't be arsed. Maybe some other time I shall enlighten you all with a story about how I went to a gay bar once and maybe how I was mistaken for a transvestite. Maybe. I hope not that story though. Mind you I do have a habit of getting the best tales from going out and about. Eh, you never know I might bump into the ever promiscuous bi-curious Mr. Workaholic Haha!
And so the rest of the Bank Holiday has passed in a breeze. Apart from Saturday of course - That was great, a chilled out, relaxed but somewhat boring weekend to say the least spent indulging in my love for odd looking comedians and boy bands with long hair that a twenty-something really shouldn't be into. And now it is that I commence my second and final few days without that Cheesey goodness. I have actually been planning our fourth date over the past week and it is coming along splendidly but I shall reveal all in a couple of weeks after we finally go on it as I wouldn't ruin the surprise for you all. Besides, it wont just be the daylight hours I shall be talking about if you know what I mean ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
All But Dream's ...
Hello All,
So last week I spoke of my misfortune with Mr. Suicide and the fact that my job had come to an end. I also said that maybe, just maybe things would change by the next time we spoke. And it has. Sort of ...
Yesterday I bagged myself a job. So it was a bit out the way and would mean a long journey to and from work, but I was up for a challenge and ready for a fight - Especially when they refused to let me have the job simply because I didn't drive (In which the job did not state was a requirement so HA!). After an hour and a half journey to work this morning and waking up whilst the sun was still yawning I arrived bright and early ready to start my first day's work, and I loved every second of it. Calling customers and sorting out cavity wall and loft insulation's was a breeze and I picked up everything they taught me super fast.
But when the clock struck five-o'clock and I headed out the door, that's when it all changed. After slogging it up a steady hill on a bicycle which I now hate, I watched the bus sail on past. After then realising that there were no bus stops for another few miles I puffed it out again on my wretched cycle. Arriving at a local pub and knowing that the bus would eventually stop there I sat sown on a bench, only to check the timetable and realise that buses now run every hour. I had a fifty-nine minute wait by the time the bus arrived, which it did. Late. The fugly female driver then had the audacity to say that my bike was not allowed. By this point I have had enough and hoofed it on before she could drive off. Three hours it took me to get home. Three hours. Plus the hour and a half getting to work. A grand sum of four and a half hours commute. That's more than some people's shifts. The worst part about it. For forty-five pounds for a shitty commute and long arse hours, its just not worth it. Safe to say I wont be doing that tomorrow I can tell you that!
And so here I am again. Back at square one. Still searching for that all elusive clerical role. On the plus side though I decided to throw it all away this weekend with a bit of a party! Well it started out as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I washing her car and pretending to be sexy whilst doing so on a muggy Saturday afternoon in denim hot-pants and tight white t-shirts which became see through when we ended up having a water-fight including soap-suds all being topped off by a make out sesh. Haha I'm joking. You would never see us in hot pants. Or the rest of that stuff - But a girl can dream cant she? But the fun didn't stop there - Oh No!
Feeling sad, single and under-sexed Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I came round to the subject of weddings. You would think that two young, youthful women would get excited about such an event, understandably ... But when you and your best friend are in platforms wearing nothing but a white bed sheet as a make-shift wedding dress, a net curtain as a veil and a tiara walking around the house together taking it in turn it be the bride, then maybe things have gone too far. Regardless, we laughed and giggled no amounts and she made me feel much better about myself and my situation. I cant wait until someone now gets married ... Hurry up friends! Or Prince Charming, you know, I don't mind. Either one. Which ever comes first. Ohh, did you hear that? I think I just heard all the men running away from me in horror of commitment and the freaky lady dressed in a bed-sheet wedding gown. Oh Dear! Forever alone.
This did not stop us though as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I continued the party (Carrying on the wedding themed afternoon well into the night labelling our night on the town as our 'Wedding Reception'). However when Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got wind that I was supposed to be going out with Miss Chocolate to celebrate her moving in later on that night they decided to make a proper night of it and join us in going all out, all together. But this wasn't before copious amount of shots and nearly being sick before we even left! Upon arrival at our nightclub of choice Miss Chocolate and I made the most of the empty dance floor whilst we could as by the end of the night, as usual, I was being 'grinded' on by a black man and being mentally undressed and seduced by someone else.
All in all though a better week than previously. Hopefully things will pick up and maybe a new job. I would say Prince Charming too but maybe that's asking for too much since I only started online dating this week. Aha a girl can only but hope!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So last week I spoke of my misfortune with Mr. Suicide and the fact that my job had come to an end. I also said that maybe, just maybe things would change by the next time we spoke. And it has. Sort of ...
Yesterday I bagged myself a job. So it was a bit out the way and would mean a long journey to and from work, but I was up for a challenge and ready for a fight - Especially when they refused to let me have the job simply because I didn't drive (In which the job did not state was a requirement so HA!). After an hour and a half journey to work this morning and waking up whilst the sun was still yawning I arrived bright and early ready to start my first day's work, and I loved every second of it. Calling customers and sorting out cavity wall and loft insulation's was a breeze and I picked up everything they taught me super fast.
But when the clock struck five-o'clock and I headed out the door, that's when it all changed. After slogging it up a steady hill on a bicycle which I now hate, I watched the bus sail on past. After then realising that there were no bus stops for another few miles I puffed it out again on my wretched cycle. Arriving at a local pub and knowing that the bus would eventually stop there I sat sown on a bench, only to check the timetable and realise that buses now run every hour. I had a fifty-nine minute wait by the time the bus arrived, which it did. Late. The fugly female driver then had the audacity to say that my bike was not allowed. By this point I have had enough and hoofed it on before she could drive off. Three hours it took me to get home. Three hours. Plus the hour and a half getting to work. A grand sum of four and a half hours commute. That's more than some people's shifts. The worst part about it. For forty-five pounds for a shitty commute and long arse hours, its just not worth it. Safe to say I wont be doing that tomorrow I can tell you that!
And so here I am again. Back at square one. Still searching for that all elusive clerical role. On the plus side though I decided to throw it all away this weekend with a bit of a party! Well it started out as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I washing her car and pretending to be sexy whilst doing so on a muggy Saturday afternoon in denim hot-pants and tight white t-shirts which became see through when we ended up having a water-fight including soap-suds all being topped off by a make out sesh. Haha I'm joking. You would never see us in hot pants. Or the rest of that stuff - But a girl can dream cant she? But the fun didn't stop there - Oh No!
Feeling sad, single and under-sexed Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I came round to the subject of weddings. You would think that two young, youthful women would get excited about such an event, understandably ... But when you and your best friend are in platforms wearing nothing but a white bed sheet as a make-shift wedding dress, a net curtain as a veil and a tiara walking around the house together taking it in turn it be the bride, then maybe things have gone too far. Regardless, we laughed and giggled no amounts and she made me feel much better about myself and my situation. I cant wait until someone now gets married ... Hurry up friends! Or Prince Charming, you know, I don't mind. Either one. Which ever comes first. Ohh, did you hear that? I think I just heard all the men running away from me in horror of commitment and the freaky lady dressed in a bed-sheet wedding gown. Oh Dear! Forever alone.
This did not stop us though as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I continued the party (Carrying on the wedding themed afternoon well into the night labelling our night on the town as our 'Wedding Reception'). However when Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got wind that I was supposed to be going out with Miss Chocolate to celebrate her moving in later on that night they decided to make a proper night of it and join us in going all out, all together. But this wasn't before copious amount of shots and nearly being sick before we even left! Upon arrival at our nightclub of choice Miss Chocolate and I made the most of the empty dance floor whilst we could as by the end of the night, as usual, I was being 'grinded' on by a black man and being mentally undressed and seduced by someone else.
All in all though a better week than previously. Hopefully things will pick up and maybe a new job. I would say Prince Charming too but maybe that's asking for too much since I only started online dating this week. Aha a girl can only but hope!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Another Bank Holiday Survived ...
Hi,
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.
With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.
With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.
With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.
With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
I Would Like To Avoid Feburary, Please
Good day to you all,
After last weeks episode from Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that he is now well and truly out of my way and permanently excluded from my 'to do list'. I have been thinking alot lately about my love-life, or the somewhat lack of it. I thought about Mr. Mot and how he has suddenly grown a conscience and wants to be a faithful boyfriend despite his girlfriends drama and his insatiable appetite for sex. I have thought of Mr. Coffee and how much I invested in such a short amount of time, only to be taken for a ride and left high and dry. I thought about how much energy and time I put into Mr. Workaholic, as well as building our life together. All of it now wasted. I thought about how easily and quickly I fall for guys, and how hard I hit the ground. Are these just my issues or do other people deal with this in life too?
I have had a fragile week to say the least. This time last year I was in sunny yet slightly chilly Cyprus with Mr. Workaholic and his family on holiday. This, I feel, was the holiday in which he made up his mind that he didn't want to be with me anymore. Valentine's Day doesn't help much either. To be honest I didn't really notice until the middle of last week when I recognised the date and then realised why. I would much rather pretend I had never been to Cyprus and that it all never happened. But that's impossible. Even if I delete tangible memories they will forever be scratched into my mind. I had to call him earlier actually to sort out some financial issues but whilst dialling his number I felt sick and nervous, violently shaking. I was imaging Mr. Workaholic scramble around for his phone or him picking it up in a local pub surrounded by friends. Hearing his voice flooded my body with feelings, both good and bad. The phone call was brief but I still sometimes wonder about Mr. Workaholic. Does he talk about me to his friends and family? Does he think about me? Is he reminded of me regularly? Is he safe and well? I laugh sometimes. Regardless of how much Mr. Workaholic broke me, I still care for him and to an extent still love him. I gave up everything for this one person who in the end could never really give me a proper reason as to why he left. I don't ever think I can love anyone as much as I loved that guy. (I would say man but after everything he put me through as well as some of the weird and wonderful lets say 'experimental' moments he has encountered with the same sex I doubt that we can call Mr. Workaholic a true man? But that is to be shared for another time - Tell you what, leave a comment if you want to hear what happened, including all the gorey details!)
Getting slightly depressive now though so I shall brighten up the mood with some of this weeks anecdotes. After not hearing from Mr. Waistcoat for a while I decided to text him, making up some excuse I had been away and that was the reason for lack of contact. Anyway, I explained briefly but concisely how I would like to go on a date with him. However as I have heard nothing for seventy-two hours I can only presume that its a polite 'No'. Upon this I decided to launch myself into something of a new hobby. Dating of the online variety. I could sit at home in just my under-garments or on the train home from work and liaise with other like minded males about subjects of interest, gradually, maybe working towards an actual encounter that doesn't involve a screen and a good Internet connection. I think that it might teach me to become more resilient to a mans charm and coax me into opening my eyes more when it comes to meeting men. Its only early and I haven't really spent that much time looking at successful candidates yet but all in good time. After all a foggy club at 2.54am whilst drunk and wearing heels is never a good first impression. Plus it will add a whole new dimension to my life, giving you my dear readers something else to dive into when you need a pick-me-up!
I'm off for a weekend away with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and shall be back next week with some juicy tales!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
After last weeks episode from Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that he is now well and truly out of my way and permanently excluded from my 'to do list'. I have been thinking alot lately about my love-life, or the somewhat lack of it. I thought about Mr. Mot and how he has suddenly grown a conscience and wants to be a faithful boyfriend despite his girlfriends drama and his insatiable appetite for sex. I have thought of Mr. Coffee and how much I invested in such a short amount of time, only to be taken for a ride and left high and dry. I thought about how much energy and time I put into Mr. Workaholic, as well as building our life together. All of it now wasted. I thought about how easily and quickly I fall for guys, and how hard I hit the ground. Are these just my issues or do other people deal with this in life too?
I have had a fragile week to say the least. This time last year I was in sunny yet slightly chilly Cyprus with Mr. Workaholic and his family on holiday. This, I feel, was the holiday in which he made up his mind that he didn't want to be with me anymore. Valentine's Day doesn't help much either. To be honest I didn't really notice until the middle of last week when I recognised the date and then realised why. I would much rather pretend I had never been to Cyprus and that it all never happened. But that's impossible. Even if I delete tangible memories they will forever be scratched into my mind. I had to call him earlier actually to sort out some financial issues but whilst dialling his number I felt sick and nervous, violently shaking. I was imaging Mr. Workaholic scramble around for his phone or him picking it up in a local pub surrounded by friends. Hearing his voice flooded my body with feelings, both good and bad. The phone call was brief but I still sometimes wonder about Mr. Workaholic. Does he talk about me to his friends and family? Does he think about me? Is he reminded of me regularly? Is he safe and well? I laugh sometimes. Regardless of how much Mr. Workaholic broke me, I still care for him and to an extent still love him. I gave up everything for this one person who in the end could never really give me a proper reason as to why he left. I don't ever think I can love anyone as much as I loved that guy. (I would say man but after everything he put me through as well as some of the weird and wonderful lets say 'experimental' moments he has encountered with the same sex I doubt that we can call Mr. Workaholic a true man? But that is to be shared for another time - Tell you what, leave a comment if you want to hear what happened, including all the gorey details!)
Getting slightly depressive now though so I shall brighten up the mood with some of this weeks anecdotes. After not hearing from Mr. Waistcoat for a while I decided to text him, making up some excuse I had been away and that was the reason for lack of contact. Anyway, I explained briefly but concisely how I would like to go on a date with him. However as I have heard nothing for seventy-two hours I can only presume that its a polite 'No'. Upon this I decided to launch myself into something of a new hobby. Dating of the online variety. I could sit at home in just my under-garments or on the train home from work and liaise with other like minded males about subjects of interest, gradually, maybe working towards an actual encounter that doesn't involve a screen and a good Internet connection. I think that it might teach me to become more resilient to a mans charm and coax me into opening my eyes more when it comes to meeting men. Its only early and I haven't really spent that much time looking at successful candidates yet but all in good time. After all a foggy club at 2.54am whilst drunk and wearing heels is never a good first impression. Plus it will add a whole new dimension to my life, giving you my dear readers something else to dive into when you need a pick-me-up!
I'm off for a weekend away with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and shall be back next week with some juicy tales!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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