Our Release Date

Hiya, 

Opening my bleary eyes that morning it was a glorious sunny day. Daylight streaming through the window at barely gone 7am, I was up and ready to start the day. Pottering through my normal routine of letting the dogs out for their morning wee, having one myself, serving up doggy breakfast, morning coffee made and settling into the comfiness of the recliner for some daytime telly for an hour or so before I started work. Ahh bliss. 

But this morning was slightly different as no sooner had I sat down at my desk in the spare room, Mr Warehouse came springing from the bedroom, dressed and ready for the day, something which I hadn't seen much before 10am most days of our personal lockdown. But as I said, today was different. Today was our release day. Although an apt phrase, I didn't like the connotations of being released from the mental institute or prison, however maybe some of our neighbours would have been less forgiving since they seemed to think we were hardened crim's as it was following my outburst last week. 

Yes, this morning Mr Warehouse was up and about in anticipation of his final day of freedom before heading back to work. Starting the day off well with a McDonald's breakfast run, followed closely by taking our little one to the groomers and home in time for some lunch and a few hours on the Xbox, all the while as the breadwinner (AKA moi) is squirrelling away upstairs on her laptop working from home. But it wasn't all bad though as come 5pm, I logged off, finishing work for the day and headed on out to get my nails done, although not before stopping off for a cheeky Starbs en route, satisfying my inner need for a PSL (Pumpkin Spiced Latte) - my first one of the season. 

It felt so good to be out and able to see faces other than my future husbands. I mean as much as I love him, fuck I love to get out of these four walls. Honestly, I was going crazy and that is far from an exaggeration since I had recently experienced a huge panic attack at work one afternoon and my mental health has slowly been slipping, so getting out of the house for a few hours and seeing friends and family this weekend has certainly saved me and restore my chemical imbalance, at least temporarily. 

But alas things are still not looking great as the virus is still haunting my life. Figures from the BBC released today (Monday 26 October 2020) confirm that the number of new cases of coronavirus is continuing to skyrocket. It is clear, from the figures at least that there is an upward turn for the pandemic. With the overall damning evidence showing that coronavirus related deaths in the last 24-hour period being recorded at over 100, it is a little worrying considering we are going into the colder and darker months of winter 

With people struggling in the last few months throughout the spring and summer with mental health, as have I, and having to self isolate from friends, family and support networks we are on the brink of a mammoth mental health crisis, far greater than anything I have ever experienced before some something that without huge improvement will cripple our already exhausted NHS, and that's not to mention winter with all of its flu's and bugs and hospital admissions. And rise they are as news from the BBC confirms the most recent figures show hospital admission rates for Covid-19 patients rising most quickly in the North West and the North East and Yorkshire region. The news article goes on to say that cases are rising quickly across large parts of England, with other spikes in areas of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.

In England, a three-tier lockdown system was introduced, with it's latest victims being South Yorkshire joining Greater Manchester, Lancashire and the Liverpool City Region in the highest level, tier three, meaning no household mixing either indoors or outdoors at hospitality venues or private gardens, pubs and bars not serving meals will be closed and guidance made to not travel into or out of the areas of concern. Soon to join the dreaded T3 category include Warrington and Nottingham, both big northern powerhouses. Other cities including Stoke-on-Trent, Coventry and Slough are the most recent additions to tier two which means a limit on pubs and restaurants opening hours cut to a 10pm curfew with no households mixing indoors but the rule of six may apply when outside, including gardens. 

But the confusion grows as Scotland is due to move to a five-tier system of virus alert levels from 2nd November with the First Minister Nicola Sturgeon confirming that central Scotland, including Edinburgh and Glasgow, is likely to be in tier 3 (the second-highest tier). This is different still in Wales as they have started a national lockdown otherwise known as a circuit-breaker, meaning most non-essential businesses are closed and people are only able to leave home for limited reasons for the next fortnight with even essential shops and supermarkets restricting the items bought in store, however over the Irish sea's it is a confusing tale yet again as the Northern Ireland devolved government have also introduced additional restrictions including an extended two-week half term for schools to reduce the spread.

As a nation we need to stick together, however, the fuzzy advice and guidance from our "leader", Boris Johnson announcing several weeks ago the Government’s new stance to Hands, Face, Space. But with the rules around socialising and meeting up with friends and loved ones changing every moment and dependant on where in the country you live, I, like the majority of you I suppose, cant help but ask what this means for Christmas and the upcoming festivities towards the end of the year are looking bleak. 

So it seems for now at least, Mr. Warehouse can breathe easy as I cannot plan any sort of party or social gathering without facing the prospect of a fine. Halloween? Cancelled. Fireworks night. Cancelled. Remembrance Parade with the family. Cancelled. Christmas Dinner? Who fucking knows at this rate but as work Christmas parties and celebrations are being debated in every office up and down the country to see if Agnes in HR can sort out a virtual Zoom party for 250-odd employees, assuring everyone that Michael from IT won't strip off his shirt again as he did last year, it seems all hope of returning to normality or anything remotely close is being fired out of the window quicker than a Windows '94 desktop PC. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Everybody needs good neighbours!

Hello Hello Lovelies, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

I Cant Breathe

Hello One and All, 

Week number 12 of lockdown in the UK. I am still furloughed or signed off sick (whichever it may be) and the time off has been helping with my mental well-being after the last few weeks being mentally taxing and exhausting. This last week has been different to the last with projects and things to do running out. 

I am still irritated with all of this Coronavirus Shit there is a reason and a need for it it and to keep the "R" number down and all that jazz, but seriously its getting boring. I just hate queueing. Queuing for this and queueing for that. I am done with it all. Gone are the days when you could just walk into a shop and buy your crap and get out. No. Now I have to stand in the rain for 40-minutes just to try and take back some wallpaper and buy a couple of lampshade which took all of about 5 minutes, if that. I suppose you could say I am at the end of my tether with it. It is all just so pointless. Figures from the BBC today have confirmed that the death toll is now in double figures after significantly dropping to just 55 (Monday 08 June 2020). With more than a half down from last week's 111 deaths from COVID-19 I am pleased and am hoping for this to become a norm. Now I know in comparison to other countries, New Zealand being one of them that has fully opened up the country due to no new cases, but it is still a drop nevertheless and as we have not yet experienced an unsettlingly high spike in deaths or new cases as yet I am hoping it continues so we can soon join New Zealand in getting things back to whatever normal looks like after a global crisis. As far as Boris Johnson and the UK government making a statement as yet or any sort of announcement of further openings, I am anticipating something soon, however I shan't hold my breath, especially considering the situation in hand. 

It has been a fortnight since the name George Floyd was catapulted into the stratosphere and made not only a household name, but one to be remembered and celebrated for all that has been acheieved in the last 14-days. On 25 May 2020, George Floyd, a 46-year-old dad was arrested after Minneapolis police officers responded to a call from a teenage grocery storeworker who alleged that Floyd had used a forged $20 note. 

As the Sun reported, there had been more reason than none to suspect him considering his criminal past and history of armed robbery in a home invasion in Houston in 2007. However life had moved on for Floyd and he had settled down with a partner and young children, who was friendly with locals where he had been working as a security guard at Latin American restaurant Conga Latin Bistro in the city. Unfortunatly the Coronavirus had affected the hospitality industry badly and Minneapolis was no exception and so George Floyd became out of work. George Floyd had been a a regular at Cup Foods. He was a friendly face with a statement from the store owner Mike Abumayyaleh, who wasn't working at the time, told NBC that "Floyd was a regular customer and never caused any trouble". 

The BBC News reported further, stating that approximatly 8.10pm Minneapolis police officers arrived to the grocery store as the young clerk working that night had called it through saying that on receipt of the fupposed forged note the teller had ask Floyd to return the cigarettes he had ust purchased to which the shop worker confirmed to 911 that "he doesn't want to do that" and that the man appeared "drunk" and "not in control of himself" according to a transcript released by authorities. Officers found Floyd in the car park with two others and on approach of the vehicle one of the officers pulled out his gun and ordered Floyd to show his hands. As the officer man-handled him out of the car it was clear that there was a struggle as George actively resisted being handcuffed. However once handcuffed, Floyd appeared to be cooperative until he was ordered into the back seat of the cop car. This is when the struggle broke out. 

Approximately 8.15pm, Floyd had "stiffened up, fell to the ground, and told the officers he was claustrophobic", according to the report from BBC News. Yet more officers were called to the scene and attemted to put Floyd in the police car to no avail. It was during this attempt, at 8.19pm that the officer in question, Officer Chauvin, pulled Floyd away from the passenger side, causing him to fall to the ground where he lay there, face down, still in handcuffs. This is when witnesses started to film something which has been shared the world over and ignited a furious conversation. Floyd, who appeared to be in a distressed state was restrained by officers, while Officer Chauvin placed his left knee between his head and neck. 

Gasping for breath, Floyd cried out "I can't breathe", repeatedly, pleading for his mother and begging "please, please, please". Begging for his life. For eight minutes and 46 seconds, Officer Chauvin kept his knee on Mr Floyd's neck, the prosecutors' report says. These moments, captured on multiple mobile phones and shared widely on social media, would prove to be George Floyd's last. The report from BBC News continued that about six-minutes into that period, Floyd became non-responsive. In videos of the incident, Floyd fell silent as bystanders urged the police to check his pulse. One of the other officers did but couldn't find a pulse, all the while the other officers did not move, including Officer Chauvin. At 8.27pm, Chauvin removed his knee from Floyd's neck, but it appears it was too late as Floyd lay there motionless. Taken to the Hennepin County Medical Center in an ambulance Floyd was pronounced dead about an hour later. A 46-year-old dad leaving behind two children. 

Now I am sure you are wondering, or maybe not, why this gained so much attention; more than most. Because George Floyd was a black man. The officer with his knee on his neck, A white man. Now I am not going to stand here (or write here as the moment suggests) I can't pretend that I understand because I don't understand! Yes I am open and honest enough to admit that in my younger years I made jokes with friends about race and colour that was in poor taste and did not sit well, but that came from a place of uneducated and lack of understanding around the struggles that those with different skin colour than to mine. 

Without me even knowing it I have been the recipiant of white privilege. Never have I ever been stopped and searched. Never had I ever been looked upon as though I am violent or agressive. Never have I ever had my car pulled over because "someone in the area was matching my description". The only time I was ever pulled over was at traffic lights when a police officer pulled up aside my car and asked me to switch on my headlights as they were off and it was dark. Hardly a terrifying experiance you might think, but for me I felt aweful and for a split second, I think I know what George and his brothers and sisters must feel on a sometimes daily basis. 

On the other hand, however, nor I am not saying it wasn't due, stopping and searching a man for a possible crime, especially when he was confirmed by the store assistant, but killing a man with brute force to this level was unnecessary and way over the top in my view. It is safe to say that looking at the statistics produced from the Governments own website confirms that in every 1,000 arrests in the England and Wales (2017-2018 respectively), only ten were white. Black people were three-and-a-half times more likely to get arrested than a white person. Truthful statistic or Media and Governmental Prejudice - You decide ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Week From Satan Himself ...

Afternoon All,

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx