Direwolves & Dragon Queen's

Evening everyone, 

I am sick and tired of hearing and reading and listening to damned Coronavirus this and COVID-19 that. Fuck off back under the rock you crawled out from under, or the meat market you originated as the case may be. I suppose I should be grateful for one thing and that is more time to catch-up on what is on the box and popular on TV. One thing I have always been told was right up my street in terms of Telly and I would enjoy watching was Game of Thrones. Based on the bestselling book series by George R.R. Martin, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss create a masterpiece where Summer's span decades, Winter's can last a lifetime and the struggle for the Iron Throne begins. Now I will start off by stating that there will be no spoilers, just in case you yourself were hiding under a rock with 'Rona. 

I had never really had the time to get into Game of Thrones and by the time it all started getting good and people started talking about it become a general pop culture subject there were too many seasons to catch-up with and much like the rest of the TV series I wanted to watch in the past, Dexter being another one, there was not enough time to get up to speed. That is until a global pandemic starts and all of a sudden we have nothing else better to do. 

The Website Vox.com describes the HBO series perfectly. Premiering in April 2011 (long before facemasks and fighting over bogroll) the story tells of a medieval country's civil war. Set on the fictional continents of Westeros and Essos in a world where seasons stretch on for years but following a decade-long summer coming to an end, and winter looming the battle to claim the "Iron Throne," the seat of the king of the Seven Kingdoms, begins. The show is divided into three major plotlines Vox.com continues. The first covers the battle between the lords of the continent of Westeros — most notably members of the Baratheon, Lannister, and Stark families — who are involved in the fight for the Iron Throne. The second follows the rise of Daenerys Targaryen, the last member of an exiled family as she builds an army in Essos to reclaim the throne. The third plot takes place in the North of Westeros among the Night's Watch, an armed unit that guards the 300-mile-long, 70-foot-tall wall that protects the rest of the continent from the mythical creatures that lurk there.

If you, like me, struggle with finding the next best thing to occupy your time with, the blog on the dedicated Game of Thrones website, hosted by HBO, sets out 5 Reasons to Start Game of Thrones Now - And honestly, you really should. Fans of the hit TV show are passionate and devoted to the tales and battles, ready to debate, defend, or just reminisce. We’re not saying you have to dress up like the Mother of Dragons, but at least you know you’ll have a go-to for dinner conversation.

Whilst the series has come to an end (and no-one is more sad about this than me right about now) it has launched the careers of many well-known faces and household phrases. Emilia Clarke who plays the beautiful Daenerys Targaryen, Kit Harington's character being the iconic (and most unreal specimen of mankind perfection) Jon Snow and Maisie Williams who we watched grow up on screen as little Arya Stark, not to mention a few familiar faces from ye olde days of "Skins" on Channel 4 -  Hannah Murray who played airy-fairy Cassie and Partier and drug taker Chris, played by Joe Dempsie, another one I had a crush on. 

Popular phrases such as “Winter is here.” “Hold the door.” & “You know nothing, Jon Snow.” are all common meme's and phrases you will become accustomed to and find yourself repeating at any given opportunity. Jumping on the bandwagon eight-weeks ago I figured that the 59 Grammy Awards and its reputation was there for a reason. That and the Jon Snow Eye-candy isn't too bad either. I have now developed a terribly unhealthy obsession over Jon Snow acted throughout by the god that is - Kit Harington. Starting off as a bit of something nice too look at and admire, I soon became weak at the knees for those deep tones and curly black locks. 

However, as the series went on and without the wait for weeks or months for a new season to be released I was soon drowning in love for the fur-clad hunk! Alas, I do what any normal red-blooded women in her late twenties does. Stalks him endlessly on the internet, changes her screen background and goes back to her days of being a teenager, scowling the web for some filthy, raunchy fan fiction. Now I won't go into detail here, however, if you fancy a NSFW read and something to get you sweating more than dragon's breath then why not follow this link ... Thank me later! So step aside Daenerys Targaryen and Ygritte - He's Mine. Well not quite since he married his co-star Rose Leslie (they met on set and fell in love while playing Jon Snow and Ygritte) at their wedding in an Aberdeen castle, Scotland. What?! I told you I stalked him ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Deadly Virus

Heyy, 

Coming back down to earth and to the daily grind was hard last week, but heaven knows how hard Mr Warehouse and I were about to fall. Last week I said that I supposed our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon, however, with recent developments, this is looking unlikely. It is so hard for me to write this, even now as I type I am brushing tears from my eyes for I know the inevitable, and yet at the same time I know nothing at all. 

Since banning all weddings and marriage celebrations from 23 March 2020, the UK government has been sketchy at best on Weddings or civil partnerships, however, since 4 July in England weddings can now take place with up to 30 guests. At this point, hours away from our holiday to Cornwall, Mr Warehouse and I considered it. Obviously, it is an option and for many, this could work fine, and for many, many more they would have to make it work, if at all. Others simple refuse and make the heartbreaking decision to postpone their date. 

As quoted from the Gov.uk website, "legally-valid ceremonies or formations are strongly advised to go ahead only where they can be done in a COVID-19 secure environment (Whatever that means and thanks BoJo for the clarity). It is also advised that the ceremonies are kept as short as reasonably possible and limited as far as reasonably possible to the parts of the ceremonies that are required in order for the marriage or civil partnership to be legally binding. No more than 30 people should attend a marriage or civil partnership, where this can be safely accommodated with social distancing in a COVID-19 secure venue." In short, this means no singing, no choir (namely in our circumstances due to age and health issues which would consider them in a COVID-vulnerable category, not to mention being unable to learn 2 new songs by the time our day rolled around). It also means for us that it would not even be 30 people as we need to include in that group our photographer, videographer, Reverand and at least 2 witnesses. 

In conjunction with this, "Large wedding receptions or parties should not currently be taking place and any celebration after the ceremony should follow the broader social distancing guidance of involving no more than two households in any location or if outdoors, up to six people from different households" and again would need to include photographer, videographer, bar staff & waiting staff, taking our total down to even less. We calculated just 19 people could come to our special day.  

Following the UK Government Coronavirus announcement late last week and drafted on the basis of the scientific evidence available, from 1 August, "small wedding receptions will be able to take place". What does this mean? What is small? What is a reception inclusive or exclusive of? The guidance means that a sit-down-meal for no more than 30 people is to take place, again subject to COVID-19 Secure guidance.

For us as a couple, the thirty guests allowance simply would not work, and for many reasons. As the Gov.uk website states "Marriages and civil partnerships are a vital part of our society, uniting couples to start their new life together and affording certain legal rights. However, by their very nature, in bringing families and friends together, they are particularly vulnerable to the spread of COVID-19." How can I have a wedding with only a handful of our nearest and dearest? It is simple we cant. As frustrating as it is, I cannot simply cut my guest list and tell someone they were invited but now "really sorry you have not made the final cut". That is just not fair. Almost as much so that Mr Warehouse and I even need to consider this as a damned option on what should be the happiest few months of our lives. 

For us, as a couple trying to marry in 2020 it is a huge uphill struggle; Every. Single. Day. The constant questions are creeping in and I fathom their anxiety and awkwardness in asking as much as being asked. Or what is worse is the hesitation from friends and family we are slowly starting to meet up with again is agonising to watch them wrestle with themselves about whether they do or dont ask about wedding planning and how it is all going for fear of upsetting us. As I sit here thinking, sighing loudly so Number 10 can hear, I think about what it may be like, A Corona-Wedding?! I am not sure how I feel about it. Masks everywhere, no hugging and limited celebrating if you can even call it that. 

Since Lockdown began, over 73,600 weddings and same-sex civil partnership ceremonies have been postponed. I am just hoping that I am not one of them ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

For The Dead And For The Living We Must Bear Witness

Cześć, 

Well, that was my first attempt at Polish. I suppose I have got to start somewhere, considering I will be in the beautiful city of Krakow this time next week, writing to you all from my Hotel room I shall be sharing with a very dear friend and family member. 

This all started back last year, possibly just after my birthday also, my Nanny Pumpkin came over and upon other things the conversation steered towards city breaks and travelling and some of the things we would like to tick off our never-ending bucket lists. It was at this point that my Nanna had said that an old family friend who had recently passed away the year before had left some money for her and my grandfather in her will, and as a result of my grandfathers passing a few months earlier, she thought it would be a nice way to celebrate them both by going on a trip of a lifetime. It sounds incredible doesn't it - Gothic old city, Eastern European food and plenty of culture to warm the soul. But it will not all be about cocktails in swanky bars and maybe the odd mooch around some shops, oh no. You see being from a long military family lineage, I have become accustomed more than most to hearing stories about the war and the impact that they had not on life here in Britain but also that of other countries and nations brought into Hitler's wrath. And so, along with the Istagramable dinners and sites, my Grandma and I will be visiting the site of one of the worlds most vicious and notorious death camps - Auschwitz. 

Our trip will start on Monday with an early morning flight from Luton, arriving in the city of Krakow approximately midday. I am sure we will have plenty of time to take in the sights and sounds and smells before having some dinner and heading for our room. 

Tuesday will be spent paying our respects and I am sure learning more about some of the most horrendous, and hopeful stories to come from such a place. Auschwitz and Birkenau were the largest of the German Nazi concentration camps and extermination centres. Located a short drive from Krakow city centre, we will visit the site where over 1.1 million men, women, and children lost their lives. The post-camp relics are protected by the Museum created in 1947 in the hope that future generations could learn, and understand how one mans actions can influence a nation to do unspeakable things. As well as teaching, the establishment also helps with research, conservation and even has a publishing centre for some of its work. I have always said that irrespective of my military connections, everyone, Jewish, German or otherwise, as a human being, should visit there if you can. There is no way to understand postwar Europe and indeed the world without an in-depth confrontation between our idea of mankind today and the remains of Auschwitz and the tale sit can tell. 

Taking a break from the emotional stuff, Wednesday will be spent exploring the wondrous caverns of the Salt Mine. With visitors reaching over a million every year it was certainly somewhere me and my little old Nanna were not going to miss out on. However Thursday we will be diving in deep again to hear some hopefully more heartwarming stories on the Schindler Tour. The website my Nanna and I booked through, Escape2Poland explains that "you will be guided around the former Jewish district of Krakow seeing not only beautiful synagogues but will have a chance to visit one as well." Allowing tourists to see where the city came to life before the Second World War and explore various religious locations such as ritual bathhouses and a cemetery I am sure will allow you to further your understanding of the city, the country it belongs too and some of the awful things its residents had to endure throughout the occupation. We will get to visit the ghetto square and to take in the former walls that enclosed the ghetto. Nanna and I will see numerous sites used when shooting Spielberg’s Schindler's List in the early 1990s and learn about an incredibly brave man with a passion for helping people. 

The following day we fly home and no doubt will be emotionally and physically exhausted from such a beautiful but also emotionally charged trip. It's hard to say I am looking forward to it. I mean I am, simply because it is somewhere fresh and new and another Bucket List item ticked off, but also to understand the magnitude of the Holocaust and the remarkable people that managed to survive. I am sure it will be one hell of a trip, one where I should probably start packing!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sleep tight in car heaven my orange amigo!

Good Evening, 

Today is a sad day. Today I have lost a good friend of mine and one that I think I will never forget. My first. My one and only. My beautiful Vivienne. 

Back in the throes of my youth in the warm weather of 2016's October, I met my Vivienne at a local reputable dealership. Taking public transport to a dealership I had my heart set on the 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta. A five-door hatchback with a 1.4L engine was everything I had ever hoped and dreamt for in my first car and with its high specification including a multifunctional steering wheel, automatic headlights and rain sensors she was certainly a thing of beauty. Small enough for little old me and big enough for the Doggy and other half during road-trips I was certainly excited to test drive the autumnal-coloured runabout and even more anxious to hear about what packaged I could choose from. 

I was financing the car, and whilst I did consider a brand spanking new motor at the time, the fact that it would depreciate by over a third just by driving it off the forecourt was a huge factor in why I chose second-hand over new. With one previous owner, no noticeable damage or scratches to her paintwork and a clean interior she was perfect. And so my little tangerine-coloured car was named Vivienne, after the flame-haired fashionista that is Vivienne Westwood. I think it fits and I have since found out that the Ford Fiesta orange hue does not come as standard and the previous owner must have paid a good deal of money for a paint job as good as what my Viv has. A special one of a kind you might say. Unique - Just like her owner! I was certainly eager to collect her and after a few weeks, our Vivienne was settling into her new home just right. The following few months lots of changes in my life including a brand new job and a serious amount of Adulting! 

Over the coming months that turned into years and my beloved Vivienne took many road trips; York where we drove for nearly five and a half hours because I didn't quite realise that the speed limit was 70mph and I was pootling along at 60mph. Then there was The Peak District where we struggled up hills and a crossed snowy mountains. The multiple trips to the seaside with our puppy and even facilitating us to take our poor puppy to the vets on the odd occasion. Countless shopping trips and visiting new places or seeing friends and family. It was on one of these occasions a few weeks ago where I was visiting Mrs Tweedle-Dumb at her family pad in our hometown of Houghton Regis near Dunstable. After a good few weeks of catching-up, constant laughs and seeing each other pretty much every other day it was time for her to go back to America and her husband. With her departure also came her parents move too as they too were moving out of the family home and away to the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales. 

Parking as I usually had, I didn't think twice about parking my car outside the family home, and I didn't think anything strange when I returned to my car much later on that evening for the drive home. It was not until the following morning when I went out to the car during my day off in order to get something when I noticed a huge grey and white stripe down the front passenger's side of the vehicle. The paint job itself was extremely noticeable, however, it was the huge dent to the door itself and the caved-in handle that gave me a shock. I was fuming. Not knowing what to do I called Mr Warehouse and hoped that he would have some advice for me that would be worthwhile. 

That evening after he arrived home from work we cleaned the car and inspected the overall damage. It was certainly not going to be a cheap job by any means as there were multiple scratches, scuffs and paintwork damage to the car and its bodywork, not to mention the fact that the window made a horrid scraping and scratching noise as it was wound down. Mr Warehouse could even that squeeze his fat sausage digits in between the window and the car door meaning that it was a security risk leaving it. As soon as I could I took her to a bodywork specialist in Bedford who explained that the work was very expensive and would far outweigh my £200 excess. Opting for going through the insurance I followed procedure and took Vivienne to another dealership which was approved. 

Checking her over, the Mechanic told of a very bleak and dark future for my little pumpkin. Explaining that the total damage to the car door and paintwork as well as some extras that needed to be done on the bumper, lights and bonnet to restore the condition of the car would reach well in excess of £3,000. I suppose unfortunately this means that poor Vivienne was on the cusp of being written off as a total loss which would mean my car would be scrapped or stripped down entirely, naked to her shell, her parts sold on. The kind car doctor informed me that the diagnosis would be more likely than not a write-off and that I should hurry home to check that I have purchased the all-important gap insurance. Gap insurance means that whatever the insurance company pays out for my poor old Vivienne, my gap insurance will cover the rest to what I have left to pay on my finance deal. This means that inadvertently I would walk away without a car and with the debt cleared meaning I can go out to find a new car or alternatively get a loan to cover the balance on a new car. 

This evening after finishing work, I noticed I had a text from the car mechanic who diagnosed Vivienne explaining that my vehicle was now a total loss and that my insurance company will be in contact with me soon. With this, I thought that it would be better if I called the insurance company this evening so I could get the ball rolling,  although after a lengthy conversation and many, many questions later the call handler finally revealed to me that my car was no longer insured under my policy and that as of the moment I get home and park her on my drive she will be classed as a category-N write-off meaning I would not be able to drive her ever again. 

Rolling her gently onto my driveway, solely dedicated to her and only her, I bid my 2011-plate little orange Ford Fiesta goodbye as I emptied her insides. Vivienne will be collected in the next few days and after that I should expect to hear what she is worth. To me, however, my first ever car is and always will be priceless. We have cried together, sang together, stressed together and even screamed and shouted together at times. All the selfies. All the memories. I literally thought I would bring my future babies home from the hospital in my Vivienne, car seats and all. Alas, you were beaten up by an unscrupulous driver and thus our adventures will continue no more! You have served me well dear Viv. Miss you already ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Drain-Pipe Dreams

Hiya, 

I suppose, as it is for most engaged couples another weekend in paradise and another wedding fayre Mr Warehouse and I are off to! What with having to call out breakdown yet again for no less than a third time in less than six weeks for my little Vivienne who was unable to start because of battery troubles and Mr warehouse encountering at very much a similar scenario with his motorbike stuck on a building site, outside our new home in the middle of the Bedfordshire countryside for nearly five hours as he awaited to be recovered back home we were certainly ready to have a relaxing couple of days off. After the week me and my Fiance (still love saying that) have endured we were more than excited to wander round wedding fayres at overly priced venues, sipping champagne to pass our time despite the miserable weather outside. 

Although I came crashing down to reality this morning when I received a phone call from the housing association. Answering I heard a familiar although melancholy voice on the other end of the line. Over the last few months the house had slowly ground to a halt in terms of any updates. After jumping through several hoops and bending over backwards in order to get our Mortgage Offer back in July of this year, Mr Warehouse and I was told that our initial handover date when the builders would have fully completed the property, inside and out, ready to hand over to the housing association that we were purchasing half of the property with would be mid-August. With this in mind we hoped that we would have a completion date and moving in prior to Mr Warehouse's birthday, plenty of time to move our stuff in and get settled with even a few moments to steal in our new garden before the sun eventually made its departure for the winter. Handover Date Move Number One! I was told that it would be another couple of weeks or so and with that Mr Warehouse and I prepared for a move around or even on the Bank Holiday Weekend in August!

However after hearing nothing and following the long weekend off, I spoke to the gentleman who had initially sold us our new home but sadly he did not have the news that we were hoping for and that the properties had not been handed over. Handover Date Move Number Two! In fact, what had happened that morning was a rather important and integral meeting between the builders and developers of the plots and the housing association. The local housing association had basically said that they were not happy with the standard of homes they were being given and that given the amount of snagging that needed to be done it may be some time before they would accept any sort of property from the builders and developers. Unfortunately the estate agents were not privy as to what the snagging was or how long it could potentially be. The reality was that it was all internal and nothing structurally was wrong with the build, theoretically meaning that the snagging could simply be down to the fact that the paint job isn't done to a high enough standard or that a screw isn't screwed in properly to a door handle. 

I asked for a new handover date so our little family could try and calculate a rough idea of a completion / exchange date and therefore a move date so we could organise things like TV, broadband and get some quotes or book a removal company for the big day. Again, I was told that it would be about a week and with that crap news returned to my desk and emailed the Boyf the bad news and although Mr. Warehouse and I had a few things planned on the run up to my birthday weekend we were still looking forward to moving into our new home shortly. 

However as we neared our third provisional handover date from the builders and developers to the housing association I had another phone call. Handover Date Move Number Three! It was at this point I nearly dropped the milk as the new handover date was being pushed until the end of December 2018. Frustrated and angry I had to keep calm and remember that I was in a lucky position that I would be one day able to afford my own place of safety, tranquillity and warmth; something that many people across the globe even tonight will not have. 

The following morning I checked my emails only to see a reply from the housing association, apologising profusely for the fact that they would have to postpone the handover date although with this came a small silver lining. Handover Date Move Number Four! The email did go on to say the new handover date was to be expected on the 28th of September 2018, three-months earlier than anticipated the day before. Mr Warehouse and I were assured that this would be the final change and hopefully everything would be handed over and we would be in our home just in time for Halloween! 

But sure as sure can be, as the date grew closer I had another dreaded phone call. Handover Date Move Number Five! As before I was told our new handover date would be would be postponed another week due to snagging and lack in quality that the Housing Association were expecting. Trying to hammer down an exact reason as to why the snagging was still continuing to be an issue and so I tried a softer approach in order to try and get a definitive handover date that would not move - Friday 5th of October 2018. 

As the next few days passed in a blur of meetings, I had a frantic phone call from Mr Warehouse asking if I had seen the most recent email from the housing association. I had not. On opening up my emails I could see what he was so upset and angry about. Handover Date Move Number Six! With less than 48 hours to go until we were expecting handover to take place, I was now reading an email that stated this would not be the case. Our new handover date? Over a fortnight away on Friday 19th of October 2018. Fuming and almost on the brink of losing my rag with everyone involved in our house buying process I called my contact at the housing association and asked her what gives. She basically told me in not so many words what I was reading between the lines of her email to me and the other future-neighbours on the street in that the list of snagging issues that had been brought to the attention of the builders had not actioned appropriately. Nothing more to say or do I ended the phone call and informed Mr Warehouse to keep him in the loop.

With the whirlwind of family dramas, wedding planning and my mounting workload I was looking forward to potentially having a week off to move into our new home, although cutting it fine for the spooky season of Halloween and "Trick-Or-Treat-ers". Only this morning I answered a phone call I had been hoping wouldn't come. Handover Date Move Number Seven! As with the last times the postponing was as a result of poor quality of work, although this time my Housing Association contact was not so coy with her responses. She blatantly admitted that the list of snagging given to the builder the last time over two-weeks ago had not been done at all and now we were to be expecting a provisional new Handover of 31st October 2018. But wait - There was more ... 

Continuing our conversation I could sense that the person on the other end of the phone line was nervous and anxious about something. It was then that she dropped the bombshell! Turns out that the floor plans that we were initially shown at the point of sale with the building specifications and dimensions were wrong. And not by a little either. The plan that my Fiance and I were sold was that upstairs on the first floor following on from the stairs positioned on the right-hand side of the property, we were expecting to have the main bathroom right in front of us with a large privacy window so as to allow for natural light, followed by the two double bedrooms to the front and the back of the property. Although this had changed from our initial plans and now will be the main bathroom sandwiched between the two double bedrooms and will not include a privacy window potentially making it dark and unnaturally lit.

On the ground floor as you come in the front door you would be greeted by the staircase on your right hand side as before. To your left would be the kitchen in a horse shoe shape with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall. Next door on the left hand side would be the downstairs bathroom which would include a privacy window facing out to our driveway. Entering through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be rectangular Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and leading out into our large garden through a patio door which would also have an adjacent window. Whilst the layout of the ground floor still contains the staircase on your right hand side and the same horse shoe shaped kitchen with the door facing the oven on the exact opposite wall, the downstairs bathroom was now to be positioned under the stairs on the right rather than the left meaning that a privacy window would not exist. Continuing through the door at the other end of the hallway to the front door would be a now "L-shaped" Lounge/Diner, stretching the length of the property and eating into the area where the downstairs bathroom was supposed to be. 

Shocked and Gobsmacked I asked about the reasons why this had happened and how out had only been now, several months down the line into buying our first time that we were finding these details out. Furious I was ready to call the builders and rip them a new arsehole. That was until my Housing Association contact explained that in actual fact the floor plans, initial dimensions and specifications for the house had changed in the very early days of the build process. The house builders and developers themselves had actually been very upfront with their decisions and had explained fully to the housing association the builders change in plans and layout. Unfortunately it would have appeared that this information was not passed through to the sales people within the housing association itself and that our property and our Semi'd neighbour were sold the properties on the basis of the homes being a completely different layout to what they were being built as. 

Taking it all in I ended the phone call and called Mr Warehouse immediately to try and discuss our options. The contact at the housing association of was sincerely apologetic for the fact that there had been a huge fuck up and had explained that because of all of this that we would be well within our right to withdraw from our contract to buy going on to state that the responsibility would also live with the housing association in order to make payments to our solicitors, mortgage lender and mortgage broker, reimbursing us totally for our cost and making us at ground zero again. 

The other option we have is to suck it up and live with it, literally. The fact of the matter was that Mr Warehouse and I were already highly committed to this purchase and with such a huge investment of most if not every penny of our savings we will have not much choice. Obviously in a way it is nice to see a housing association company as large as this one looking out its future customers, making sure that the homes are up to scratch and safe (even if it is on selfish terms as if anything was to go wrong we would be calling up the housing association to come and put it right rather than the builders or developers) but quite frankly selling us a house that was completely built not in the specified way we were told it would be is not on. 

And there I was saying that buying a house was not stressful at all. Where we go from here I don't know but one thing is for certain and that is that me and Mr Warehouse will need to view the property in person before we make any snap decisions. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

And So The Healing Begins

Heyy, 

So last Tuesday was my birthday and whilst I did not mention this in last week's blog post, I thought that I would mention it now! Happy Birthday to me! It is always awkward when you have a birthday in the middle of the week. Everyone is working or have other commitments and dinner out was an expensive luxury to do twice. Instead I settled for my Birthday Eve when Mr. Warehouse and Miss Tweedle-Dee joined me to indulge in my favourite thing eating out and sushi. And although my best friend and boyfriend were not fully enjoying themselves - Miss Tweedle-Dee felt poorly and Mr. Warehouse was still unsure on the concept of raw fish - But I certainly wasn't and gorged on many dishes of salmon and sticky rice. 

Afterwards Mr. Warehouse, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I took an after dinner stroll and I was giving my birthday present from my bestie. Opening the different envelope they all contained information about a wonderful idea and something that was just otherworldly. With the run-up to Halloween coming quickly I am so excited for Autumn and Spookies to come, so with all of this in mind Miss Tweedle-Dee paid for us to both encounter the paranormal inside one of Britain's Most Haunted prisons - HMP Gloucester. 

The website states that HMP Gloucester has a long and chilling history with many of the executed criminals remain buried in the grounds of the prison. Some of the most infamous serial killers have been incarcerated within the walls of Gloucester Prison. The prison formally closed on 31 March 2013 but the suffering and torment is deeply etched within the fabric of this foreboding location. Originally built as the County Gaol in 1700s at a cost of £34,000 with a capacity of 350 prisoners each in separate cells, there were also separate cells for debtors of both sexes.Between 1792 and 1864 at least 102 executions took place using the considered more humane 'New Drop' style gallows with many of the executed being buried in unmarked graves where they still remain today. Join the team as we spend the night at the terrifying HMP Gloucester with the tormented souls that remain.

Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will start our overnight ghost hunt at HMP Gloucester in the afternoon of Saturday 20th October 2018 when my Besitie and I will drive, in her new car, down to Gloucestershire and check into the hotel to try and get some rest. Our experience will start at 9pm that night and will be sure to really test our nerve. An experience that we are sure will not forget and with suffering torment and death deeply etched into the very fabric of this imposing prison we may meet more than just the guide. Gloucester Prison was home to the notorious serial killer Fred West so during the night we might be in contact with him and all those who remain as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I join in carrying out seances, vigils and experiments in the most active areas of the imposing location. At 3am all is well as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will return to the hotel, hopefully not possessed or contaminated by demonic spirits to sleep and the following day maybe some nice relaxing shopping ... Or maybe a trip to Church?!

One present that I did not expect to receive was an email in my inbox from a charitable organisation in the heart of Bedford called the Amicus Trust. In the email they detailed about how I had reached out to someone that could help me with my mental state and said that they were able to give me counselling sessions in order to work through my problems as quickly as possible so that life can get back on track. I am still on my medication but I  now feel quite pressured from loved ones to get things sorted and frankly it is becoming a little too much to bear. I know that people mean well and that in reality I am of the knowledge that I need to sort out these issues but first and foremost, I need to sort myself out.Trust me when I say that it is simply a long story that I may share with you another time.

Leaving the house with plenty of time on Friday morning just in case parking was a bitch, I was anxious as I always am at my first meeting with my current therapist. I found a parking space straight away and with that proceeded to scroll through my social media pages whilst I waited for an appropriate time when I would be able to walk through the doors without being too early. Locking my car and walking past many of the unscrupulous faces I saw on that Friday morning I realised that the the exact location of my therapy Sessions were actually in the heart of Bedford and area which is renowned for its poor reputation and well known for being a bad side of town. But with this in mind I thought that there would be no better place to have a charity or organisation such as the Amicus Trust.

Meeting the gentleman that I had been emailing for the last fortnight or so was interesting to say the least. He was extremely friendly and easy to get to know. Immediately I was relaxed and at ease with his company He offered me a cup of coffee which was nice as it was the morning and I have not eaten yet but it also helped in breaking the ice in what would otherwise be a rather emotionally fuelled situation. Sitting down at a large wooden table, the room was dimly lit and despite the large window next to the table being hidden by the blinds I could still hear the busy street outside. My Therapist was an larger framed gentleman maybe in his late fifties with long salt and pepper curly hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a dusky purple corduroy shirt straight out of the 70s or 80s and with the skin tags littering his eyes and wrinkly face I knew that I can trust him. 

And so we began unravelling my tale. It is a complex and complicated one and something in which we only got to the bottom of this evening, however after the last two sessions I can safely say that things can be fixed and everything can be resolved one way or another. There are certainly a lot of issues that we need to work through and get to the bottom of but he assures me that it can all be mended. Its funny, walking out of my therapy session tonight has made me feel more positive and hopeful than I think I have felt in the last few months about my mental health and I am sure that I will work through it to get back to me again. It will be long and hard and difficult, but I'm ready!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Amicus Curiae

Hello, 

Sat waiting for my appointment at the doctors Saturday morning I was I was anxious to say the least about what the doctor's and medical professionals would say. After my most recent appointment with them they had advised to continue my medication whilst I awaited an appointment where I can be seen through the NHS for counselling but this seems to be harder than you would have initially thought. 

After a few counselling sessions earlier on in my treatment process, I was unable to continue with them due to the high cost of the sessions themselves. They certainly helped but at £70.00 for an hour long session it was certainly not something I could afford right now or keep up, although that being said I was and still am eternally grateful for the help received. During those early therapy sessions, I finally opened up to the realisation that maybe medication is just what I needed at that point and with that I went to the doctors in order to get a quick fix. 

I'm sad and almost ashamed to admit that my work was suffering  and with a House move in the works I couldn't loose this job. As my social life dwindled also because of everything that was going on, I had, stupidly really, tried for the last few months (because the weeks of cloudiness beforehand had now turned into months) to not succumb to the need for medication in order to treat my mental health issues. Truth be told is that I needed a fairly instant result in improving my mood and therefore my performance, both at and away from my desk. The tablets used to make me feel quite queasy and nauseous most of the time but I knew they were good for me and what I needed would come soon. I needed, still do really, therapy and counselling and I need to talk about it, not medicate it away.

I have spoken before about how I was shocked that the doctor handed them out so easily, asking me very little questions about what is going on in my life to make me feel like this and how I am feeling. Unlike before there were no silly questionnaire about how depressed I am or the likeliness that I might top myself on a scale of one to ten.Every other time I have been to the doctors (not that there have been many, gosh makes me sound like a right nut case, but there have been a few occasions) there has always been a lengthy conversation about how I feel and how I have become to feel this way. Strangely I feel as though there should have been at least a little bit more push and pull. Then again maybe it was obvious and looking at my medical history it seemed the best thing for me. Initially when I went to the doctors in May of this year I was told that I will be placed on a waiting list for free counselling through the NHS and was told it would be roughly a three-month time slot from when I was referred. 

Obviously I continued with my therapy sessions and when they came to an end I went back to the doctor in order to have a check-up generally on the medication that I was on and it just so happened that it was coming up close to the three-month mark in July. I was told that it would probably be better if I went to speak to the Bedfordshire Well-Being team which were based outside of the doctors surgery and whilst part of the NHS were a different entity that could help. It was here that I learnt that it can be anywhere between eighteen-months and two-years. Certainly not the three-month time slot I was given when I first started back in April / May. 

After a meeting with a lady at the Bedfordshire Well-Being team, it was suggested by several mental health practitioners that I undertake what I thought was going to be a group therapy counselling session lasting 5 weeks. I thought that we all walk into the room sit down in a circle and say "Hi, my name is blah blah blah and I have a problem with abandonment issues particularly to do with my parents". Unfortunately this was far from the case and in actual fact it was a rather patronising lesson in what depression is and how it will make you feel. 
"No surprised that I have found it completely unhelpful as I am here because I have relapsed" I thought during my first two sessions. I am already my own well-being expert. I know the issues I have and ways I can slip back under the darkness. I already know how it feels to be depressed and I know what I need to do in order to get out. As narcissistic as it sounds I know what I am on about as I am already, at the grand old age of nearly 27, an expert of my own mental health issues.  

It was at this point that I spoke with the doctor and she confirmed that it would not be wise to stop medication and advised that in most circumstances medication is taken for a minimum of six-months, however with everything still quite unstable in my life in terms of my housing situation as well as my issues with family members, by the time the six-month anniversary comes around in October I probably will not be cured. I know that this is something I need to continue in order to build up it's effect, regardless of how I felt much better. I know that coupled with counselling and therapy I will get better it will just maybe take a little bit longer. 

Struggling I took the decision after talking with the Bedfordshire Well-Being team and several of the staff there I ended the patronising group lessons and have since then been in vainly trying to find anywhere locally that will be able to see me at such a short period of time that are not grossly expensive is almost nigh on Impossible. After a long sit in the doctors waiting room last Saturday morning, I saw the doctor (a different one every time I have been I must admit) I expressed my concerns to the them who promptly told me that it was a difficult position to be in for everyone involved. On the one hand going to my GP and seeking medical attention for my mental health was and continually is a great step in making myself better. As a result of that directly I have been put on medication to treat and improve my "chemical mood", something in which I feel is benefiting me greatly. Whilst awaiting it be one-to-one counselling via the NHS, there is very little that anyone can actually offer that will be of any use or help. 

Whilst I appreciate that the NHS in England is definitely under a huge strain, it is fundamentally wrong and critically important to increase the waiting times to a better standard.The thing is, if I broke my leg on the other hand they would try to operate as soon as immediately possible, having me in and out of that specific treatment quickly and efficiently so as to move on to the next patient. And yet for mental health it appears as though there is a lack of understanding in terms of how life threatening and dangerous it is for patients to wait to seek treatment. As with a broken leg mental health can become infected very quickly and easily causing more and more damage, and yet despite all of this the waiting list in the UK, at least for England anyway, is minimum of eighteen months and two years. 

Whilst the medicine I am on made me feel queasy and nauseous in the beginning, that has now subsided and I am now left feeling quite positive and happy in myself and my life generally although this doesn't stop the pressure that I feel from loved ones and frankly it is becoming a little too much to bear sometimes. I know that people mean well and that in reality I am of the knowledge that I need to sort out these issues but first and foremost, I need to sort myself out. Trust me when I say that it is simply a long story that I may share with you another time, but for the meantime I am doing as well as can be and battling it through to make the best out of what I have. I have been in touch recently with a couple of charities local to Bedford, one of them called the Amicus Trust which have said that they are able to give me some help with free counselling sessions in order to work through my problems as quickly as possible so that life can get back on track. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

House Of Cards!

Hello, 

Sitting at my desk I finally plucked up enough courage to look at the clock only to see that it was gone 10am. And with that I knew that Mr & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb would be high in the skies over England, possibly the Atlantic at the moment, jetting off to start the adventure of a lifetime with her new husband in L.A. I was suddenly very sad at the simple prospect that we were not even sharing the same airspace anymore. Although to be fair it could have been a lot worse than it was at my desk on Friday morning. Only a few hours earlier after Face-Timing in the car with Miss Tweedle-Dee following a lovely evening meal out together I drive home thinking nothing more of it. Suddenly, then as I pulled off the A421 and headed down into the Suburbs of Bedford, a much enjoyed song of mine played over my car stereo. The Song in question was James Arthur's 2016 hit "Say you wont let you go"! 

As I started letting the emotions - happy, sad, everything wash over me I became completely and utterly overwhelmed with sadness and heartbreak. The sobs began to get caught in my throat and slowly turned into gasps of air. Hot, wet tears rolled over my cheeks as I struggled to control myself. For a moment it crossed my mind how difficult it was to drive and cry at the same time. I thought about pulling over but it worried me that I simply would not be able to pick myself up and carry on, with that carrying on down the road slowly making sure that I turn in every right direction to get me home as soon as safely as possible. Pretty much parking the car, turning off the engine and running into the flat by this stage I was a hyperventilating mess. I stood in front of Mr Warehouse who was sat on the edge of the bed, bawling my eyes out and struggling to get the words out of my mouth. It was only the fact that he sternly asked me what had happened as he thought that I had run over a dog or maybe been in an accident of sorts. Finally I pulled myself together enough to tell him that it had finally hit me. My best friend had gone. 

And as if life hadn't kicked me in the face enough the last week, following my most recent appointment with the doctor, they had advised to continue my medication whilst I awaited an appointment where I can be seen through the NHS for counselling. However things don't seem to be getting easier and the pressure that I am feeling from loved ones is becoming a little too much to bear. I know I need to sort out these issues but first of all I need to sort myself out. Trust me when I say that it is simply a long story that I may share with you another time, but for the meantime I am doing as well as can be and battling it through to make the best out of what I have. 

Although hopefully fingers crossed we might be able to add a home to the list of things that we have in our Arsenal to make life a bit better! But with the house slowly coming to an end (I hope) we finally had the Mortgage Offer. At the beginning of last week I had several frantic phone calls from the estate agent. Making excuse to make tea and coffee for the team I headed to the kitchen and returned their call. Answering within a few rings I spoke to the gentleman who had initially sold us our new home. Sadly he did not have the news that we were hoping for and that are keys have not been handed over. In fact, what had happened that morning already was a rather important and integral meeting between the builders and developers of the plots and the housing association that we were eventually going to be sharing ownership of the property with. The local housing association had basically said that they were not happy with the standard of homes they were being given and that given the amount of snagging that needed to be done it may be some time before they would accept any sort of property from the builders and developers. I suppose in a way it is quite nice to see a company as large as that one looking out its future customers, even if it is all about selfish terms that if anything was to go wrong I would be calling up the housing association to come and put it right rather than the builders or developers. 

Unfortunately the estate agents were not privy or of the knowledge as to what the smoking was or how long it could potentially be. The reality was that it was all internal and nothing structurally was wrong with the build, theoretically meaning that the snagging could simply be down to the fact that the paint job isn't done to a high enough standard or that a screw isn't screwed in properly to a door handle. Not really the best news that you want to hear over a coffee on a Monday morning I asked when the handover date was being pushed back until. It was at this point I nearly dropped the milk - New handover date was being pushed until the end of December 2018. Frustrated and angry I had to keep calm and remember that I was in a lucky position that I would be one day able to afford my own place of safety, tranquillity and warmth; something that many people across the globe even tonight will not have. 

Tuesday morning I checked my emails only to see a reply from a contact I have at the housing association. She had apologised profusely for the fact that they would have to postpone the handover date a few more weeks due to snagging and lack in quality that they were expecting. With this in mind however, she did go on to say that the new handover date was to be expected on the 28th of September 2018, three-months earlier than anticipated yesterday. And there I was saying that buying a house was not stressful at all. Excited for the news that we would still be able to have Halloween, Bonfire Night and the lead up to Christmas all in our new home, I rushed home from work to tell Mr Warehouse. As yet we have not had any clarity on what else we need to do in the meantime however we have exchanged contracts which I think in basic terms just means that we are going into business. I am getting itchy and frustrated with not being able to move in yet but I am sure the time will come quicker than expected - Ready for the next dip in my Rollercoaster?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx