Let the wedding bells ring out

 Hello Hello,  

Snow defrosted and all snowmen melted (although I think we now have to refer to them and "snow people" just in case someone gets offended, commonly known rather ironically as a snow-flake) our lives in lockdown returned to normal - Whatever the fuck that is anymore. By mid-week, it was all but a long lost daydream and with our evening occupied with plans for the first time in months, I was excited. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was actually going to be talking wedding shit. Not "Oooh I hope it happens this year" or "Oh no COVID-safe wedding" blah blah blah. No. Certifiably exciting wedding shit.

After weeks of uncertainty and unknowing, anxious days of thinking non-stop about how our wedding might look. Will it go ahead, won't it go ahead? What are the restrictions, will we have to wear facemasks and is there any point in having all the expense? If it does go ahead how many people will we be allowed, will it be enough and who are the magic few? So many questions whirling around in my head it is no wonder I hadn't much sleep since Christmas. Because whilst everyone means well after the big man came down our chimney (socially distanced of course) the next question on everyone's lips was wedding, wedding, wedding.

As much as I knew that all our friends and family meant well by asking and only trying to maybe suck some happiness and excitement for finally a day where we could all be together again, I loathed the conversations and all that they entailed. That was until I had an honest and frank conversation with firstly my Matron of Honour - Mrs Tweedle-Dumb, and thereafter spurred on by our conversation (and the lure of a kebab) Mr Warehouse. We sat down on a Friday night to discuss and I had come up with several ideas such as a Humanist Ceremony (basically a non-religious and non-legally-binding ceremony focussing on each other as opposed to the holy one) switching up the venues to something smaller and less costly to accommodate the possibly smaller guest numbers and even the "P" word again.

As before, Mr Warehouse reassured me, if not heavily-handed due to the heated discussion (not helped by the chilli sauce laden lamb pitta). He made me more confident and happy that things are too uncertain at this moment in time to be making any rash decisions when no one knows what is happening next week let alone in four-months time. And so we took the decision that after touching on a few of the above ideas we would take them into consideration, add a pinch of salt and put it on the back burner until Easter when Government hopes to start opening life back up. Today the BBC confirms that the death toll is fading fast with only 406 being recorded today (Monday 01 February 2021), down just under a hundred on last Monday's figure. With the downturn in figures for people becoming infected as well as dying from the disease seems to suggest that the vaccines are working. What's even better news is that should the news be believed, the UK is not only on target but smashing the figures and expects that not only would we have vaccinated the top four categories of vulnerable people by mid-February, but that it is likely that this could be as soon as next week.

With all this in mind and focussing heavily the last few weeks since the kebab-convo, I have become engrossed in positivity and only accept positive vibes and attitudes. All Negative Nelly's and Grumple-Grumps need not apply. And so getting back to the beginning of this blog, our evening occupiedo. Armed with mountains of information from blogs, podcasts, news and more (Mainly from Guide For Brides and their weekly updates from the governments wedding taskforce so a big shout out to them for igniting such a firey intensity surrounding wedding planning again) Mr Warehouse and I scrabbled around for the laptop lead and the best lighting for our meet with the Reverand.

Much talking of flowers, hymns, singing (why do I hear Will Ferrell in the voice of "Elf" saying singing - Man I love that film) and readings were enough to keep me going. I had hoped Mr Warehouse would get just as excited as I was, maybe rubbing off on him a little, but I think a hard day in the pharmaceuticals industry with many more to come and the work-life causing mounting stress and frustration didn't help him to unwind or giddy about anything. And so June 12th here we come. Ideally with everyone. Even better with my Matron of Honour to be allowed to travel here from LA without visa restrictions or our nephew to wave at us from the crowded faces. The icing on the cake if we can have a dance and disco or cuddle - OMG! Dare I get too ecstatic? In any which way on the 12th of June, it will be me and Mr Warehouse and our Reverand standing up there, who else joins us along the way - Who knows?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

The Straight Jacket

Hello Everyone,

OK, So firstly thank you to everyone for all your supportive messages about last week's slight meltdown. Last week I should explain was a mere blip on the blossoming relationship that is growing between myself and my fromage friend. I soon recognised that essentially it doesn't matter. Mr. Cheese obviously likes me enough to give me his attention during football season and to invite me to spend Christmas with him and his family. After a total of seventy-two hours of not talking to Mr. Cheese I finally caved in when I realised how ridiculous I was being about the whole thing. That and the fact I felt awful at the thought I had made Mr. Cheese feel so bad he lost his appetite. Safe to say though that after the weekend I have just had, the appetite is most defiantly back - And I don't just mean for food ...

After building up on the sexual chemistry between us for a few days it had got to a stage where it was uncontainable. Friday evening as I stepped of the bus from work (early for once) there amongst the bumbler's of town I saw a hairy figure. Straight up to him I went, letting his warm embrace shelter me from the chill of the evening air. It was here, in front of several commuters that we shared our first PDA, or Public Display of Affection to all you oldies out there, haha. It felt wonderful and for a second I didn't even realise that this was Mr. Cheese 'the guy I was wondering weather he fancied me or not'. I felt as if he was proud to show me off as something that he had, and boy has he got me! Hook! Line! Sinker!

After starring into the other ones eyes we decided that we should just go back to mine and settle our insane need for passion right there and then. And so we plodded off back home to my flat where Mr. Cheese and I sat and kissed whilst we chatted away about our weeks before heading out to dinner at a posh Italian restaurant. During dinner I felt like I was with someone who was much more than a regular shag. Something special. Someone special. It was during one of these moments whereby I was gazing and imagining what the future might hold that he asked about my plans over the next few months. This gradually turned from a casual conversation into full blown calender syncing with each other, planning and plotting every weekend up until the end of the year. Some weekends we will see each other, some we will not but I am under no impression that my fondness of him and his fondness of me will only get stronger, and as Christmas approaches fast it can only be a good thing.

Saturday we separated to do our own things although this wasn't before I was tossed and turned in all manner of the sense by a very excitable Mr. Cheese in the morning. Completely and utterly insatiable he only left me wanting more before he went off to football with the family in Oxfordshire and I had a quiet, lazy afternoon at home, despite the fact I had a hair cut and a tattoo appointment booked. Saturday evening I made my way down to my hometown of Dunstable for a Charity event hosted by my Grandmother. Much to my surprise Mr. Cheese was already there, sat at a table awaiting my arrival with entourage consisting of the Tweedles and Miss Stuu. 'He is brave. Turning up in a town you've never been to before, walking into a bar you aren't a regular in and then entering a venue whereby you know no-one. Brave man!' I thought. To make matters worse my Grandmother and Grandfather had already introduced themselves and probably told Mr. Cheese all about my childhood escapades making mud-pies and feeding them to my cat.

Saturday night went surprisingly well. Not only were my Grandparents there to meet the 'not-so-secretive-anymore' Mr. Cheese; but also on the line up was my Father and his girlfriend as well as my Uncle and Aunt closely followed by some close family friends all of which were kind and easy-going on him. And as I mingled amongst family and friends I became aware that whilst I had left Mr. Cheese in the well capable hands of the girls I still knew that he would be able to hold a conversation well. That was until my Father came over to talk to him, ushering me away. Making eyes at Miss Tweedle-Dumb I knew she would keep the conversation away from Mr. Cheese as possible. Sometimes I have the greatest friends. 

As the night continued I slowly recognised the tell-tale signs of a drunken self. High-fives shared between myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb coupled with giggles and tears of laughter I knew I was well on my way to getting very drunk. Didn't help that I had a mixture of bubbles and shots to line my stomach of nothing. Eventually the night came to an end and after walking through town I thought it best to head home to Bedford and the comfort of my own bed, obviously with Mr. Cheese in tow and not before stopping at the chicken shop on the way to my flat to invest in some shares by buying half the shop's fried-chicken supply. And there I fell, into bed full up on chicken and cuddled up on the infamous chest wig of Mr. Cheese himself. 

A relaxing Sunday followed with the morning and most the afternoon spent in bed before heading out to a local shopping mall for some late lunch with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Following my previous grievances with chicken salad at restaurant's I decided after spending a good twenty minutes looking at the menu I would have such dish. Although this time they ruined it with seeds and oranges. I genuinely felt like I was eating a bird-seed fruit salad and how the fuck you eat it with chop-stick I will never know. People of China I commend you for your odd cutlery and bizarre food habits. But of course I wasn't going to snub my nose at something in which Mr. Cheese seemed to take much a delight in eating at said restaurant. I grinned and bared it and to be honest by the time I was done it didn't taste that awful. Sorry Shanghai but I will not be making a trip to you in the near future. 

After experiancing more PDA's from Mr. Cheese whilst walking around the shops after Lunch I understood just how silly I had been. Sunggles, hugs from behind, sneaky bum squeezes and holding hands made me just want Mr. Cheese all to myself. Its mad to think that this time last week I was panicking about weather there was any hope of a future with Mr. Cheese and yet now, after countless sex episodes and head-aching orgasm's not to mention the crazy weekend meeting the family and handling me drunk I can honestly say that there seems to be a clear road ahead. Heck Mr. Cheese has even suggested squeezing in a mini-break to the West Country where he attended University. When or weather we will even be able to fit it all in is another question but I think it is fair to say that all is well and that crazy mentalist has now gone back to the psychiatric hospital she escaped from!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx