Denying The Inevitable

Hello, 

As the evening set in and the night took over the sky and shrouded us in darkness I knew it would soon be time. Last weekend when Mrs Tweedle-Dumb's parents threw a goodbye BBQ in her honor I woke up that morning not wanting to get out of bed and only wanting to curl up under my duvet, pretending as I did on the morning of my grandfather's funeral that this day did not exist. Maybe if I fell back to sleep and pretended that this all wasn't happening today then maybe I could keep the reality at bay. Ahh denial is a wonderful thing. In Great British style the bank holiday weekend was a bit of a washout, blowing away the gazebos and generally wreaking havoc on the garden. Miss Tweedle-Dee, Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and I had decided that it would be best if we spent some more quality time together just the three of us and so following a very much enjoyed sushi date together on bank holiday Monday Miss Tweedle-Dee and I endured our weeks at work and looked forward to getting up early and seeing Mrs Tweedle-Dumb for what would genuinely be the very last time. 

Arriving at a slightly later time than we had planned, me and my Tweedles sat on the front porch of Mr Tweedle-Dumb's parents home in the posh Suburbs of Basingstoke, smoking menthols and sipping on Starbucks in the sunshine. I couldn't think of any better way to start a Sunday, even if it was nearly midday. Thoughts soon turned to what we would be doing in our final few hours together, and it just so happened that we were doing the usual - Shopping excursion to the Anbill (otherwise known locally as the Festival Place Shopping Centre) was our normal go to when visiting our friend in Basingstoke and why should this time be any different. We all made jokes about the fact we could not visit Mrs Tweedle-Dumb in Basingstoke without having a trip to the Anbill. Truth be told I think we all really enjoyed going back to the roots of our friendship and simply shopping till we find a restaurant to drop into. And what made this day better was the fact that in their haste to emigrate, Mr & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb and maybe forgotten a little bit that my birthday was coming up soon, and so today was also when I would get to pick out my birthday present. 

Giddy with excitement at all the possibilities that could be we headed to the Anbill - Shopping, laughing and chatting all the way only stopping stopping for the odd cigarette and eventually ending up outside Wagamama, feasting on steamed buns and gyoza! It was starting to get dusky and I realised that time was slowly passing off by. Sat on a bench, denying the inevitable, I looked at the bestest friends I think I could have ever wished for. The last few months have been difficult to say the least, and yet, as normal, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Mrs Tweedle-Dumb have been through it all with me. They always make me feel better, giggling about our inside jokes no one else got, eating fat and naughty food and indulging in the worst kind of sinful behaviour! Unlike all the other times we kidded ourselves that this would be the last time - This really would be the last time! 

In less than a few days Mrs Tweedle-Dumb would be jetting off to start the adventure of a lifetime with her new husband, settling down on the Sunshine Coast. I still feel ashamed and guilty for selfishly thinking that I wish it was me packing my bags and fucking off, but also partly because I would not have stuck around to see who was left behind or what they were feeling - I would have been long gone. Truth be told, I want her to do the same. Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will be OK back here because we have each other and the best times ever together as a threesome can still continue over Skype or FaceTime. 

Saying goodbye for the last time was probably the most difficult things that I have done in quite some time. I know that Mr & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb will have an amazing time and make an incredible life for themselves and if, for whatever reason, nothing goes to plan and it all doesn't work out Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will be there to catch our best friend, pick her up and dust her off. Hugging it out and seeing your best friends cry their heart out was the worst thing in the entire universe because there is nothing that you or anyone else can do to make it better. Driving away, tears filled my eyes and as one of the first ever albums we obsessed over as a trio started to play through the stereo. And all the way home we played the album "Songs About Jane" by Maroon 5, belting out the hits from our youth and letting the emotions, happy, sad, everything wash over us as we tanked it down the M25. 

Honestly that album. I promise you, if you ever do anything, go and listen to that Album - It'll change your life! Hands down categorically the best album that is for any type of emotion! Break-up? Track 4: She Will Be Loved. Love Dilemma? Track 2: This Love. Guilty? Track 5: Tangled. Falling in Love? Track 8: Sunday Morning. Best friend emigrating? Track 12: Sweetest Goodbye (well if it wasn't about sexing after a break-up) 

I mean yeah sure we are a bit weird in our own special way and mine, Miss Tweedle-Dee & Mrs Tweedle-Dumb's humour is completely our own, but somehow we just get each other. For the simple fact that we could easily sit in silence, not saying a single thing to one another and yet still feel at peace and without judgement. Our years of being each others go-to for any advice, problem, issue or dilemma and sometimes not even having to utter a single word to one another just a look to crack out a smile or even better a laugh. All of it made that moment, the moment that we said goodbye one last time all the more harder to bear. And so ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Big JCB in the Sky ...

Hi There, 

So after weeks of dread and anxiety on not making Mr Warehouse look like a complete fool in front of his entire family by wearing something wholly inappropriate for a funeral, the day was finally upon us to lay to rest Mr. Warehouse's Second Cousin. An untimely death and gone all far too soon for my liking, I donned a black jumper, tights and skirt complete with heels and a grey waterfall jacket to complete the look I waited patiently for Mr. Warehouse to get ready, looking ever so smart in his black suit and tie. If it had not have been a funeral I could have been happy. It was not even one of my own and already getting in the car and ready to go I was welling up with sadness. God only knows what sadness I had to endure yet ... 

After leaving in plenty enough time to get a drive-thru breakfast, manage the Black Cat Roundabout and have a pit-stop for a toilet break we arrived at the address I had been Google-Mapping and researching for weeks. After confirming and doublely-doubley confirming with Momma Warehouse in the few weeks leading up to the sombre occasion over Christmas and New Year I had made sure we were going to the right place and with plenty of time to allow for mingling an getting a seat, especially since he was a well-known and well-loved character who would easily pack out any church in the area. Pulling into the car park however I did not recognise or see any number plates or cars I knew of. Putting my doubts aside, I got out and shoved on my heels before having a cheeky cigarette whilst Mr. Warehouse went to look for the rest of the mourners whom seemed in short supply. 

Returning in a flap I knew what Mr. Warehouse was about to say, 
"Where is it?" I asked, anxious of the response. 
"Its the wrong fucking Church!" Mr. Warehouse fumed. And so, flipping my heels off we headed to the second postal code Momma Warehouse had given us. In search for St Paul's or Peter's Church we headed fifteen minutes down the road, still arriving, but just in the nick of time. The only problem was that there was no parking, and the Church appeared to be locked up for the day. 'This can not be the right Church' I thought to myself, knowing from my days as a Sunday-School-Sucker that a vicar would never leave it this late at less than forty-five minutes before the service began. Pacing round the small chapel we headed back to the car, again frantically calling around to see where we actually needed to be. 

Becoming frustrated I put my foot down as Mr. Warehouse and I headed back to the first Church we went to all in good faith that Momma Warehouse had it right this time. Fifteen minutes later we arrive back in the first car park we encountered in Wisbech. No familiar cars. No mourners. No Hurst. it is now midday and with less than quarter-of-an-hour until the service starts we finally have a phone call from Mr. Warehouse brother. Finally someone who knows what they are talking about! Message pinging through on a text I punch it into my phone, SatNav now draining my battery so much so I wonder if I can find my way home that day. Jumping back into Vivienne again I race through the streets of Wisbech and finally pull up at a small village church, parking up and wiggling through grave plots in order to reach the church steps on time. With seconds to spare we heard the procession music slow and the service begin. 

Myself and Mr. Warehouse were standing outside and after all the fuck ups and screwing around of this morning I wasn't going to have him stand out here when he was a deserved family member of at least a standing space inside the holy building, let alone a seat. Gently taking his hand I guided him through the mourners and bystanders to the back of the Church. There I found Momma Warehouse, obviously too late for a seat herself. What I felt as an undignified service followed with mistakes being made on names of relevant people, the Lords Prayer being recited incorrectly and even messing up the Hymns, I felt the vicar was unprofessional and it thoroughly grated on me that in someones final moments they did not even have the respect or grace to practice some of the readings and scriptures in advance. Obviously there may have been a reason why she was so poor at leading the proceedings however in my eyes you should be professional in all aspects, and even more-so at a funeral, but of course, that's just my opinion and otherwise it was a beautiful send-off. 

As the ceremony came to an end, I left with Mr. Warehouse, holding his hand and trying where possible to be helpful. Tissues, cuddles and gentle hand holding, but nothing would appease the tears rolling over my beloved boyfriends cheeks. Sharp slices hit my heart as I genuinely looked around for someone to help. But no-one did. We were all mourning and I honestly have never felt so out of place or at a loss on what to do or how to help. Truth be told though there was nothing I could do. I was not a miracle worker and I had no powers to take away Mr. Warehouse's nor his families pain and grief. All I could hope and wish for is that it would be all over soon enough and that they could all learn to live with what has happened. 

What I experienced that day has left me with thoughts of my own mortality and what I will do if anyone close to me should pass. What would I do? The thing is I don't know. I suppose no-body does, but one thing I can tell you is that I have told everyone I love them and when I do it is with utter truth and meaningfulness, as though it may be the last time I speak to them, for we know not how long we have left, but definitely on how we should use the time we are given.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

"We'll Have Time" They Said ...

Hello, 

When I was younger and my grandparents had just retired I asked them about what wonderful things they were going to do now they were officially old. Fart in public and not give a toss? Snoozing whilst watching Countdown? Drinking copious amounts of wine until you get so hammered you start to talk like Danny 'fucking' Dyer. It in all fairness was a mixture of all of the above but when I grew up and asked them what the worst thing about getting old was my Nanny Pumpkin replied this ... 

"When your young you don't think fashion it too much; A pair of comfy jeans here, cosy jumper there, maybe even a stunning ballgown once or twice in a lifetime. But the older you get the more and more you seem to have no choice but to reach into the wardrobe and bring out that same black dress you wore last time you went to say goodbye to someone you knew who is no longer there,"

In all fairness at the tender age of about fourteen I didn't full understand what she meant by that but as I have got a little older, and maybe a little wiser too, I have learnt that it is truest thing and as sure as anything it is what I will be doing tomorrow for a character no one will forget. 

Phone ringing again for the third time I wondered why, after all this time of being in a new job, Mr. Warehouse still insists to call me about three-in-the-afternoon once he has finished work. Ignoring it previously thinking it was simply about dinner or where I have hidden something of his, this time I dashed to the toilet in order to take the call. 

"Whats up you know I cant answer at work?" I asked, concerned yet anxious I had a lot of work to get back to. 

"Its my Mom's Cousin. He's been in a car accident, Its really bad. He's Dead!" I heard sheepishly down the phone. Thinking it was a joke I called my boyfriend sick and told him to stop messing around tempting fate and all. But he said it again and this time it was deeper and more choked than the last. 

For legal reasons we cant state too much but what we do know is that it was a collision involving a lorry and several cars, one of which we are under the impression that the driver was over the drink drive limit (as if there should even fucking be one that is). I will never understand sometimes why people still to this day continue to put other peoples lives at risk, and I say other peoples for a reason and that is in most cases the drink driver is so floppy and intoxicated that their bodies do not tense and seize up as a normal person would when bracing for a car crash. 

But unlike most families (Or maybe not as my family is quite small) Mr. Warehouse and his family on both his mothers and fathers sides like to breed and with this comes children who will be brothers, sisters, cousins, second cousins, aunts and uncles, all very close in both age and as a group. Cousins and second cousins are more like extensions of brothers and sisters or aunts and uncles for Mr. Warehouse and his family and what with them being so close they experience everything from celebrating the good times to mourning the bad ones too, everybody as one riding out the roller-coaster together. 

Standing there in the bathroom at work, my thoughts immediately turned to his wife and children, grown up now but forever his babies. It had only been eighteen-months or so ago that the deceased and his wife had got married. It was one of the first family events I ever went too as Mr. Warehouse's girlfriend and it was the very first wedding I had been invited to. Nervous after reading the invite I shook it off and said it was silly we had only been dating a few months, I couldn't be invited to such a thing and be in all the photos, What if Mr. Warehouse and I were to break up? That would be awful then, you have some random in all your snaps. No thanks?! But nevertheless I came round to the idea and even was asked up to be in the photographs, albeit I was approached as Mr. Warehouse's Wife, something we all still laugh about today. I will never forget both the Bride and the recently departed Groom's hospitality, making me fell welcome and loved even though I was surrounded by many I never knew. 

Mr. Warehouse's Second -Cousin was more like an Uncle to him, taking him fishing or to play pool and darts but every time I met him and his wife, they would be forever asking when mine and Mr. Warehouse's big day was and always complimenting me on how beautiful and lovely I was. I remember them saying how sad it is that they both had to go through failed marriages to meet each other and if only they had fallen in love sooner they could have had more time, but it was always ended by a notion that they have the rest of their lives with each other. And that is the truly saddest part, is that they didn't. A devastating irony. 

Sitting back at my desk trying to take it all in I was really emotional and upset by it and they weren't even my family. I had met them a handful of times but their energy and enthusiasm for everything including each other was just electric. And now that was gone. I could not think of anything more that they were the same ans Mr. Warehouse and I. Ready for Christmas (at the time less than a five-days away) with presents wrapped, stockings packed and plans all made. Plans that would never be fulfilled and with stockings and presents that were never to be emptied and unwrapped. All gone. And so tomorrow I will attend Gorfield Village Church to pay my respects for a man who could never believe I was a Luton girl through and through. Goodnight and sleep tight!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Life Should Be Lived

Evening One and All, 

Life and it should be lived. 

This exactly what I told myself when a certain someone pinged into my inbox Wednesday lunchtime. Reading the message and slamming it back down on the already unstable table in the small kitchen at work I noted a concerned look from Mr. Warehouse. Knowing I was unable to lie to him successfully I began to explain myself and my sudden outburst. My African Babybel had text me. I was angry. What made it worse was the now dulling affection that I had for him still lingered. Explaining everything I was judged immediately and told to block, dispose and delete Mr. Cheese from my life. Easier said than done but actually over the past fortnight I have found it is getting easier. More-so now that I know he isn't a ten minute drive from my bed. 

Lets face it. What was really good about it? I am sure that I don't need to divulge to those that are regular readers that between the sheets was chillier than I would have liked, especially for a couple less than a year into a relationship. It wasn't great really was it. Mr. Cheese was never the man I would marry, my baby-daddy or the person I would spend my golden years progressively hating but continue loving. No. It was a nice thought that I stumbled across many a time but something I knew was unachievable. I wish it was different but it is not. Miss Tweedle-Dumb said to me the other day something that hit a nerve and something that I never had thought about before. She said that "Mr. Cheese never loved you like you knew love before. Mr. Workaholic was your everything as were you for him but with Mr. Cheese it was never even close". I fully understood what she was trying to say and in all honesty I think it was true. Mr. Cheese never loved me, despite how much I wanted him to. But on the one hand maybe that was a good thing, protecting me in the long run from myself and my own ideologies. 

Wednesday Afternoon was not wasn't the first time I had heard from Mr. Cheese and it certainly would not be the last for as the sun set on a Saturday evening another dreaded ping sounded my eardrums. Light conversation ensued and with it some tit-bits of information on how life was in the waste-land of Ghana. I could tell that he was missing home and also my company but this had to stop. I did something I had promised myself I would not do. And as I began scratching at the surface of my smartphone, I wrote:
"I really didn’t want to do this but I feel now that I have to in order to gain some control of the situation. I love you and you will always have a piece of my heart but I can not carry on like this. I need to move on. I desperately wanted it to work for us but it was you who ended it, not me. You only have yourself to blame. I am sorry that things didn’t work out for us but that was your own doing and now I am afraid you will have to deal with the consequences of your actions. There is not a moment in my day in which you are not in my thoughts but you gave me up remember and I can’t continue with this any longer. I will always be here for you and your family should you ever need me but I cannot and will not wait forever. I deserve more than this. I'm Sorry."

And with that my wings came yet again. As strong as they were before I finally renounced Mr. Cheese and found myself rising above his egotistically hedonistic reply. I did deserve better. "If Mr. Cheese can't love me then he shall have to let go so that I can find someone that will" I thought to myself. Yeah! Fuck you man! I thought as I continued with my new obsession - American Horror Story! If Mr. Cheese couldn't satisfy me in every way then why the hell am I still getting hung up on it. I need to build a bridge and get the fuck over it! 

Feeling empowered I turned to my growing little black book and primly placed at the top of that list (at present anyway) is Mr. ToyBoy himself! Ever since our blissful First Date a few weeks ago I had been desperate to see him again. Sadly though the messages have been fleeting and it seemed almost as though our second date was just a bunch of words said to end our first encounter on a favourable note. Approaching this subject with tenderness I asked Mr. ToyBoy why it was that we were postponing our Second Date a third time. Bracing myself for an honest rejection from someone nearly four-years my junior I opened the text. To my surprise it was completely on the contrary. Compliments and apologies aside, between the lines Mr. ToyBoy seemed almost upset at not being able to keep to our earlier appointments and was feeling anxious in wanting to go on a Dinner Date with me. So we have agreed that whilst we have both been busy with work, friends, family and school - I mean college - we will hopefully rearrange our date for the weekend after my birthday. After all rescheduling is what I do for a living.

Rescheduling however will not be on my to do list come Friday night when my weekend of celebrations continue. Whilst Thursday will be the day in which we all mourn another year towards my death, Friday will be party time as myself and a whole bunch of guys and gals from work will be hitting Bedford Town Centre to get down and get funky with the best of 'em! Saturday morning I plan on waking with a size-nine in my bed and after shoving him out the door I shall nurse a fuzzy head whilst sipping fresh coffee and snaffling up the rest of my Subway like a slob until my girls arrive. Dressed to the nines in what I hope to be fancy-dress, I shall yet again be set loose onto the streets of Bedfordshire in the hope that many shots shall be swallowed and many a man shall be flirted with. Sunday Morning will be a time for reflection as I shall bid farewell to the partying antics for another year and head back home to my Grandparents house in Luton to visit family and take sanctuary in a good old roast dinner with all the trimmings and a good old chin-wag with Nanny. 

And whilst I am excited for the merriment, I am also well aware of a phone call from someone less than festive. Mother shall be calling. Something I know she takes great pride in doing every year. Not only for the fact that she can spoil one of the only days in the year I get to take pleasure in but also the fact that together with my Father she birthed me and so has a small role in my creation which she feels the need to reinstate every year. I am however prepared for it as I always am. I shall be at work and my schedule is looking busy with meetings all day, a steady flow of paperwork to get through and other activities to keep me occupied I am positive that I will not let her burden my day any more than the minutes she wastes breathing to me words of many happy birthday returns, all laced with poison and hate. 

And so I must dash. I have a million and one things to do before the euphoria begins and one of them is sorting out what I am going to wear on Friday along with the theme for Saturday, preparing food and drink for Saturday night, doing the washing, making sure the toilet is scrubbed and ensuring that those roots are touched up! So much to do and so little time - I wouldn't have it any other way!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Ego Vobis Valedico (I Say Goodbye To You)

Hello there, 

So one week on and a slight emotional roller-coaster as always (would you expect anything less from me?) but nevertheless I have been able to suck it up and get on with it. Unfortunately I have not yet been on Date number two with Mr. ToyBoy as yet however there is no need to rush into things as I am sure we will have plenty of time - Until I die before he does as a result of before mentioned age gap, Haha. 

And so with no Date planned with anybody else either I saw my week moderately filled up with social meetings, cinema trips and hanging out with friends. Even managed to squeeze in a little trip to the Zoo with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Pea - Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little Sister. Well I say little but at eighteen she is the same age as my Brother but that doesn't stop me thinking of her as the baby of the pack. My weekend was spent having makeshift facials (Nothing filthy you - Just Miss Tweedle-Dumb lathering my face with a moist, creamy substance), being pestered into going to the Zoo to see monkeys by Miss Tweedle-Dee and company and then on top of all of that being told that I have no maternal instinct and should never be allowed to be around children under the age of twelve. Thanks Guys! Sometimes I wonder how lucky I am to have friends with such confidence in me being a parent one day. Really, Haha! But the week wasn't always so jovial and light. There was a dark cloud that hung over yesterday (Sunday) that had been grimacing since Thursday, a storm I knew was coming and one which I had prepared in every way I could and knew how to ... 

Rushing through my workload I realised come midday that my 'in' tray was empty. I had boshed through my pile of papers on my desk so hard I was now sat here twiddling my digits. Taking an early lunch I messaged my dinner date and checked in on my Tinder's. As a final farewell and in all honesty a last ditch attempt at getting laid I had invited Mr. Cheese over for dinner and a film at my apartment although I think we both knew that two bottles of our favourite Rose and my warm orange sofa would soon make the film seem like the less entertaining option. Returning to my desk I pottered around the rest of my working day keeping myself busy until the clock hit five and it was home-time for me! Snatching at my coat and scurrying off the bathroom to apply my war paint I was soon ready and waiting outside the office under my window awaiting the blue bug to come bumbling round the corner into the now quiet industrial estate. Adjusting my pink 1950's skirt and leather jacket I then lit a cigarette cockily thinking to myself that what did I care if he went out to Ghana for quarter of a year and met some blonde bimbo called Sarah-Jane, I was way out of his league anyway. I needed something real. After a good twenty-minutes of bigging myself up and yet again checking my dating profiles for potential suitors in the hope that Mr. ToyBoy would message me back more frequently than he was a car pulled into the parking lot. Climbing in I went to lean in for a kiss only to realise stupidly that this was not the etiquette now Mr. Cheese and I were no longer dating. 

Pulling away we chatted about our days and as we crossed the river into town I looked out at the water that once blossomed our relationship but now is a source of life for something new. I smiled at the irony as a voice asked what I had been up to since we had last met. "Is it a good idea to tell my ex that I have met someone new?" I thought to myself. I decided 'no' but only because it would inevitably lead round to the question "Well I have - Have you?" and in all honesty I just didn't want to hear about the dates that he had been on. Ignorance is bliss they say and I wasn't going to spoil my chances of a spoon. Letting ourselves into my flat I listened to some of the pompous and frankly upper-class snobbery that was vacating Mr. Cheese's mouth. I knew he was posh but fuck me! Maybe this was for the better?! 

Plating up I donned the table with condiments and nice cutlery as Mr. Cheese topped up my wine glass. Sitting down to dinner and without thinking I let him take the floor with conversation. Avoiding his gaze and not really listening to him I acknowledged more the view from my window across the rooftops of Suburbia. Conversation soon switched though and became about that dreaded subject - Us! Talking honestly and openly I again gave him the space he clearly needed to express about our failed relationship. On noting just that - Another one of my failed relationships - I was told that Mr. Cheese did not see it as a failure but as something that had to happen. Fate almost. Disregarding his philosophy I reached for bottle number two at this point and retreated to the sofa, changing the subjects to something a little less depressing than my lack of a normal relationship that wasn't between myself and Cadburys. As the liquid-relaxant kept flowing and I slid on my new heel's making me now taller than my 6ft-Ex we soon noticed that the fiery couch was up to its old tricks again. 

Etching closer I knew more than both of us the painful implications in which this would end but tossing them aside along with other undergarments we retreated to the bedroom, lead only by the flickering flames of the all hallowed Yankee Candle in a sickly sweet Salted Caramel flavour. After a short period of teasing we got on with it only for me to wonder why I was here again. As we lay panting, my head on Mr. Cheese's chest I played with his chest wig one last time bidding it a silence goodbye from behind my lashes. Running my fingers over his sternum was something that had always comforted me and now this was the last time. For ever. I knew that when he walked out that door in the morning it would be the last time we ever saw each other again. But at least we would fall asleep together. At least I would have one more morning waking up to him right beside me. Wrong! Mr. Cheese soon made the statement that he was sleeping at his Grandma's that night and as a result could not stay the night. All my preparation had gone out with window. This was something I did not have a contingency plan for! 

Feeling myself loose my grip on the situation I fought within myself, a constant battle that continued for almost an hour. Back and fourth I grappled between telling him to fuck the fuck off and begging his to stay, the later only brought back the scorching pain of the moment Mr. Workaholic left me. I knew that once he left I would be alone once more with only my mind and TV to keep me company. Feeling anxious at the prospect of spending the night alone I pulled on his arm to keep him from getting dressed. When told that Mr. Cheese was leaving I responded by lashing out. This went on until the Cab arrived to take him away. In the knowledge of its stationary position outside my door I sat on my bed, cross-legged and naked. I was as bare as a human could be. Almost as a metaphor to our relationship I had yet again laid myself open to him, open as a book and had poured my heart out presenting my soul as an offering and yet it still wasn't enough. 

Making a promise to myself never to get to this point again, I let my head know once more that I was going to be OK. As Mr. Cheese perched himself on the end of my bed I tried one last attempt to make him call off the Taxi. He declined in apology. Starting an obviously well-rehearsed soliloquy with how I should remember how beautiful and special I am, I rested my fingers on his soft lips, putting the goodbye to an end. Even though I knew that this was the end and that it was for ever a goodbye in ever sense of the word, I did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever. I had accepted it in my head, but hearing it from a different voice to my own would only make it more real. As Mr. Cheese and I stared into eyes that were filling, for the first time mine broke first. Wiping my cheek I took off my silver St. Christopher's and placed it over the head of hair I had come to know and love, explaining that St. Christopher was the patron saint of travel and would keep him safe on his own adventures. 

"But it's yours ... " Said Mr. Cheese, sobbing too.
"It was never mine" I replied lovingly with a small smile. Holding each other in a tight embrace I swore that this was the end and that tomorrow would be a fresh chapter in the novel of me. As my front door clicked I raced to the skylight pushing it wide open, breathing in the crisp night air. Mr. Cheese looked up. Whether he saw me or not I don't know but that was the last time I ever saw him. Watching the lights of the Cab drive off down the quiet street I stood looking out across the navy sky for a long time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping that he would come back. But Mr. Cheese didn't. He never did. And so I poured myself a Screwdriver to ease the pain only to shun it moments later realising I had poured it into the glass Mr. Cheese had drank from hours earlier. Curling up on my trusty settee I spent the entire night trying in-vain to sleep. I couldn't. I wanted to, even just for a little bit, just to pretend this was all a bad dream. It wasn't. This was reality now. My reality. And yet again I was alone. 

But this time it was different. I was in my flat. With my sofa and my bed. They belonged to me not Mr. Cheese. So why was I letting him get the better of me. Consulting a friend most the night we chatted into the small hours and when the frosty sun finally broke through the Friday morning fog I knew that work would bring forward a purpose and something to occupy my brain. After no sleep at all I threw on something from my wardrobe not bothering to dress up for the office today. I needed comfort and if I found it in a pair of baggy jeans, soft jumper and Converse then so be it. 

The days have passed tediously and yesterday alone seemed painfully slow to end. Despite me having a good time with close friends and enjoying a wonderfully impromptu day out watching Chimpanzee's scratch their arse and Elephants defecating in front of a live audience, I couldn't help but notice the hours ticking down to the moment in which Mr. Cheese and I would no longer be on the same continent let alone breathing in the same air. Last night though on my way home and before I put the key in my door I looked up at the moon, as I did with the sun today, and comforted myself in the knowledge that it we would both be looking at the same thing. 

I'm not saying that I should never trust any more people with my heart or that I will never fall in love again. I'm only stating that next time I would prefer it to be real and something in which I can grow and nurture, not something that needs constant attention and weeding to keep healthy. And so my final closing statement is one of joy and thoughtfulness. To the person four-thousand, four-hundred and eighty-five miles away staring at that same ball of light in the sky I ask you - Did you pack your bag yourself?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Sweetest Goodbye

Hi, 

So finally I can now put behind me another sickeningly romantic Valentines Day and look forward to the rest of what 2014 has to offer. So far I have Reading Festival '14 and not much else but with rumours of another mini-break to Chester with Miss Chocolate and possibly Miss Tatts our old college friend as well as a boozed up sunshine break with Miss Chocolate and friends too, there is much to anticipate over the coming months. However I feel that I have become more and more withdrawn over the past few weeks, slowly drifting further into the background, which as you all know is very unlike me. However I am sure I will pick myself off and find something fun to do although life hasn't been very fun this week. Allow me to explain ... 

Rushing around like a headless chicken (Mmm Nando's) I tried my best to finish my mountain of work on my desk before finishing half-day on Friday. Who knew that having a spa day booked would be so stressful and energy-draining. But I must confess, that wasn't the only thing I was heading to London for. I had some stuff I needed to collect from Mr. Cheese that I had left at his flat I so wished to visit one last time, and conveniently for me that aggravatingly contradictory man was heading through Kings Cross St. Pancras Station as I was. Whilst I was going in for some retail therapy and a rub-down, he was heading out on a family weekend to York visiting Grandad Cheese in hospital. And so as I clambered onto the train with minutes to spare I wondered again about what would happen when we finally said goodbye for the very last time. Watching the trees and countryside of the home-counties rush past the window I knew that despite my planning and preparation for this concluding encounter I had been building up to since I took a stand on New Years Day that it could all fall apart as soon as we met. And to some extent it did. 

Of course irony would have a part to play in all of this at some point, this is me were on about here, and right on cue we learnt that Mr. Cheese and I had ended up in the wrong parts of the station and as we had done on our first date, mostly down to my incompetence at geographical locations. Nevertheless I found him, that odd man in casual clothing looking nothing of the London sort, slumped against the glass wall of Starbucks trying to look calm but emulating an awkwardness and uneasiness at the whole situation. Approaching him with a strut in my step I desperately tried to stay calm, trying to remember all the things I would say and the positive crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee had drummed into me the past few months, not to mention countless others. Standing in front of the taller-than-remembered Mr. Cheese I saw him relax a little at the notion of my presence. Without a word I was pulled into a hug and almost instinctively I could feel my arms tightening around his waist, clutching at him never to let go. But I had to and noticing my warmth growing rapidly I reluctantly pulled away. 

As people sipped at over-priced coffee and as even more hustled and bustled around us I felt like Mr. Cheese and I were the only ones there. Making small talk we avoided the real reason we were both here in the middle of London. Rummaging in his bag he pulled out my things and handed them to me. I thanked him. Concerned about his Grandad I asked how he was. Mr. Cheese confirmed that all was not well and he was very sick. A million different scenarios ran through my mind and at the same time and as heartbreaking as it was to say I knew I had to offer some comfort. As we stood there eyes wide and filling with tears, saying nothing and everything simultaneously and knowing that the end was nearing I ran through the plan in my head once more. As I opened my mouth to speak, Mr. Cheese shook his head, still piercing my heart with those bright blue eyes of his. Ignoring his gesture I continued. 

"I will always be here for you. If you ever need me. Family, friends, work, anything. You know where I am." I croaked. I felt like I was in a Hollywood blockbuster but I knew that this wasn't going to end like it does in the movies. Taking my arm once more Mr. Cheese pulled me in for one last cuddle, confessing softly that he didn't want me to go. I agreed. I never wanted this to end. Ever. But I couldn't carry on. I cant carry on. I gave Mr. Cheese the chance to make it something wonderful but he chose not to. Slowly pulling away I went to start my well-rehearsed monologue but before I got a chance Mr. Cheese stole my spotlight. "Please don't go. I miss you." He said, voice breaking under every word whilst fighting back tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. Standing there in Kings Cross St Pancras there was still so much left to say. I wanted to scream at Mr. Cheese how obvious it is that this is right. How much I miss him as well. How I crave his attention and how I long for every part of him - His eyes, his beard, his lips, his hands, his hair. Hell even the tippee boobs and chest wig I will miss and all the little things that annoyed me about him.

In a way I saw that history was repeating itself in a way. Mr. Cheese had been in a similar situation only a year beforehand when a close family member passed away. Whilst I felt awful for having to do this now but I couldn't see any other way of fixing it. With his words I knew exactly what he wanted to say. I understood that Mr. Cheese missed me and I knew he didn't want me to go either but I think what he really wanted to say was 'I need you'. Gathering up the rest of my courage I pulled myself together to finish the show. I concluded with I had to go and that I will always love him. Kissing him softly and hearing my heart crack yet again I walked away, blending into the city crowds. As hot wet tears steamed I wondered where it had all gone wrong and if there was any hope of it blossoming again. But no. The chance was given and the choice was made. Now we have to lye in the beds that we made. Alone. 

A relaxing spa, massage and a drink with an friend took the edge off my afternoon engagement however as the journey home took a hold I could help but well-up again and so terminated my Friday; Crying all the way home listening to Maroon 5 and Ed Sheeran. Oh how break-ups fail to disappoint. As Dad has always said - Its always better in the morning (Meaning issues, not sex although it is a valid point to make that sex in the morning is just as fun as when the sun goes down). Upon rising from my bed on Saturday morning with the acknowledgement that I have less than ten hours to put together all my furniture with the help of Papa and turn my flat into a home ready for my house-warming not to mention cramming in some food shopping and relaxy-time. After spending the day calming my father down about the 'poxy wardrobe' and 'wanking bed' (don't quite know how either of those are possible for inanimate objects but there you go, Dad logic) I then embarked on some food shopping and tidying for the evenings entertainment. 

As I introduced the party guests to my humble home I was bombarded with Oohs and Ahhs and a steady flow of compliments from all and as we continued into the night I was glad I had something to occupy myself with although was fully aware that I still wasn't myself after yesterday's meeting. Saturday soon turned to Sunday and after waking up in all the wrong places, me and my entourage headed out for breakfast and not forgetting that I was having a date that afternoon with Mr. Minigolf I made sure to look my best. Unfortunately just after finishing breakfast I received a incredulous message that my date would have to be called off due to a break-in and that Mr. Minigolf and I would have to rearrange our little date for another time. In all honesty I think maybe some 'pieds froids' have taken hold although I am optimistic that we do want to meet-up at some point.

So that was my weekend, a somewhat bitter/sweet affair tinged with unfortunate incidents and sprinkled with erupting laughter and friends. Whilst the door is beginning to close on the saga with Mr. Cheese, I did receive a message from him asking to talk. I explained that I am more than happy to talk and to listen to what he has to say but I have said everything I want to a million times before, and whilst I cant see what difference it will make, I am happy to hear him out. Until that happens though I hope that I can get better and make life a little more happier than it has been ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

How It Can All Change

Morning All, 

What a difference a week can make and how things can change in a matter of moments. I have realised this many times within the last week and more specifically within the past seventy-two hours! And whilst fresh in my mind I shall divulge my week. So Wednesday I finished work only to be greeted with an email when I got home from the agency. Panicking I thought that the last thing I needed was a P45. Cautiously I opened the email to my surprise and great relief it was something of an opposite nature! My place of work had renewed my contract until spring and as a result I could rest a little easier with knowing I had my job until the end of March, assuming I don't fuck it all up. And the celebrations weren't to stop there as Friday approached and the weekend was on the horizon I planned for a weekend of socialising, mingling and meeting new faces. 

Friday night my father, his girlfriend and I attended the surprise 21st birthday party of an old family friend who is due to be married in the summer (I am the photographer and am extremely excited). Upon arrival we didn't know very many people but I mingled with the faces I knew better than others and made small talk with guests. As the birthday girl herself arrived, shocked and surprised as anticipated I gave her a big hug and wished her a happy birthday. After talking to the future bride and groom I was introduced to a strapping young chap whom looked familiar. The face I knew as an old school friend of the Tweedles, but I was playing coy to the party guests as to how I knew him. That is until the groom introduced us to one another across the bar but before the introductions were even started the good-looking male stated that he already knew me. We were given space and started making conversation about Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee and the few memoirs we had of each other from days gone by. As I was sucked in by the Casanova's boyish charm he told me of his hobby as a radio presenter on a local station. And so Mr. DJ was born. Paha. Turns out he will also be disc-jockeying at the wedding of our introducers in a few months time!

We talked for ages about our jobs; himself being a pre-school teacher and myself in the wonderful world of finance. Conversation was fun and flirty but I made sure to keep it as light as possible trying hard not to engage in the classic game of cat and mouse. Oh how I do enjoy a good chase! As the evening continued I socialised more, meeting more people I knew from my educational years in school and college. Soon I had a whisper in my ear that my Dad and his girlfriend were leaving and so I made the decision to stay and pursue more conversation with Mr. DJ. Dancing away the night and enjoying the company I was in myself and Mr. DJ spent more time together, tackling the likes of the Macarena and even the unfortunate event of accidentally kicking a small child in the face whilst pretending to be Wigfield! As the night drew to a close we decided to get in a few drinks and help wind down the party. Staying behind once the lights came on we helped pack away tables, food and lights. As I helped Mr. DJ cornered me and asked how I was getting home. I said that I would probably get a cab to the station and then the train to Flitwick where I was staying the night at my Dad's. It was then that he suggested quiet out of the blue that he didn't mind taking me back to Flitwick since he only lived in the next town along. Flattered at the offer I took it, wondering where my mind had gone as I anticipated a flirty drive home with a hot stranger. 

As I said my goodbyes Mr. DJ and I made our exit and headed out to his car. He mentioned something about it being parked a few roads back from the venue and to apologise in advance for making me wet. I took the comment at face value as I knew full well what he meant by it. Jumping into the modern, little car and in typical DJ fashion he instantly asked what music I liked. I told him I didn't mind and was easy with whatever, apologising again for not having a filter on my runaway mouth. Giggling like a school girl we set off into the darkness, only the street lamps to guide us. I as we approached the outskirts of town I was informed that Mr. DJ was single and I admitted for the first time this year that I was too. And so the seduction commenced and in between embarrassed but flattered giggles I flirted back heavily making sure he knew where I was. As if that wasn't enough, the bluntest and crudest questions came out from our filthy minds polluting the car with a thick aroma of lust and greed. 

Pulling into the driveway of the house my Dad shares with his girlfriend the car ground to a steady halt. As the lights dimmed in the desolate, midnight streets I wondered what I would do now. I didn't have to worry for long! "So am I allowed in for a coffee? Even though I don't drink coffee?" Mr. DJ said. And with that I knew exactly where it was going. Could I get away with this? Surely not! After a brief moment I invited Mr. DJ in and made our way to the kitchen thinking that maybe we could just whisper, naively thinking that we could have a cheeky snog and a fumble in the kitchen and still leave the evening nicely rounded off. Although as time passed I knew that it was a death wish to even bring a boy into the house let alone anything else. I suggested heading back out to the car for a chat and as the glass was left on the side and my hand firmly taken I was lead back to the still warm car. As we drove round the corner so as not to be spotted I jumped in the back seats so as to get comfier whilst getting to know Mr. DJ a bit better now the thumping music and dazzling lights had gone. 

Sobering up in the backseats of the little sports car we instantly hit it off. As our need for something more than subtle flirts increased so did the tension. I tried hard to keep control but the fact that I had been waiting months for someone to take the lead made me succumb to Mr. DJ's domineering ways. Frantic and impatient we tugged at each others clothes as I silently begged him to take me hard like I have craved for so long. I couldn't hold back any longer and before I knew it I was screaming his name as he made my hard, erotic, controlling fantasies come true. As the car stilled we held one another as Mr. DJ climaxed hard. Panting we stayed like that for a while, in an unplanned embrace that neither of us expected a few hours ago. Smiling as Mr. DJ drove me a few meters up the road we made already broken promises to stay in touch. We both knew it was just a fling but the naughty liaison left me quivering all the way to my bed that night. Lord only knows I can't wait for the wedding. Who knows what will happen?!

The following evening was much the same as how Friday had started as it was my Grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. Sadly the only attractive and available men were behind the bar, the rest of the party consisted of people practically awaiting the Grim Reaper. Nevertheless a good evening and no body argued so all was well. Old family and friends gathered round to make the evening a special one and something that hopefully I shall encounter with someone special too. But all this goodness couldn't last for long and as morning broke on Sunday I was awakened with a banging head ache and a somewhat delayed half-hangover. Two nights of drinking and running around like a headless chicken had taken its toll and I was fragile to say the least. Although as my eyes opened for the first time I heard the ping of a text message. Reading I saw it was from Mr. Cheese whom I hadn't heard form in a few days. Conversation flowed into the state I was in and our plans for the day. I explained that I had a date as did Mr. Cheese. Coincidence?

As we messaged each other about our weekend and the anticipated date's I learnt that Mr. Cheese had secured an all important second date with a blonde from South Africa now living in London somewhere. As Mr. Cheese continued I slowly felt the same sickening feeling as I had before when I was with Mr. Workaholic. Imagining a tall, slim city-blonde with a alluring foreign accent and the sex appeal to match I struggled to see why my beloved Mr. Cheese would ever come back to me after something as I was creating in my head. As hard as I tried I knew that a second date would mean there was obviously a spark. Trying not to be a hypocrite, especially after Friday nights antics I kept an open mind, thinking that this may just be a make-or-break date. Keeping an upbeat mindset I made my way to Milton Keynes to embark on my own date. 

Within minutes after locking eyes with my already nerve-shredded date I knew this would not be the man I had hoped for. As we wandered around the city centre hopping from one coffee shop to another I realised that the needy, clingy and awkwardness of this young man was something I was not used to. And so after enduring some mild rudeness, unapologetic bluntness and incapacity to people watch quietly I ended the date. Safe to say that I don't think I will be seeing him again. Although as I settled down in my seat my phone pinged again. This time it was someone I wanted to speak to. So whilst I was sat in excruciatingly awful awkward silences and constantly trying to keep the conversation from drying up; Mr. Cheese was struggling to keep his hands off his date.

Yep that's right everyone. As I had kept my Friday night frolics to a bare minimum in detail to Mr. Cheese he had no such boundaries as he carried on into deep conversation about "how incredibly hard it was not to be that couple over in the corner of the pub". Jealousy erupted and I messaged him angrily back saying that he should just fuck the Zebra-headed bimbo. Mr. Cheese's reply about things going so well with the South African blonde made me realise that it was just too late and that instead of making his feelings stronger for me that they had simply vanished. All in the space of twelve, short days. Truth be told I'm devastated. Knowing that this is what I wanted him to go and do only makes things worse. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about it. I have lost my appetite and still have not had a proper nights sleep since the ultimatum at New Year. On the one hand I want(ed) him to get out there, explore the world  and what it had to offer before jumping into another relationship that two years down the line could end up in tears again. But then on the other hand I enjoy being single myself; partying and not worrying about who I share the back of a car with. I cant be too hard on him as it is me whom is wearing the same shoes. Difference is that whilst I have tried to hide and tone down my male encounters, Mr. Cheese seems to be rubbing my nose it it only making the feeling that he is slipping through my fingers ever faster. It seems that the rule of 'what they don't know wont hurt them' has been thrown well and truly out the window.

I am trying hard not to let it get to me and think positive thoughts about finally securing the flat of my dreams and moving in within the next few weeks. Mr. Cheese and I haven't spoken since his comments about the blossoming relationship not going sour as I quite simply don't know what to say. I suppose I will just have to get used to the fact that maybe Mr. Cheese just doesn't want me any more.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx