Having children is like having a blender with no lid!

Heyy, 

A week on since the sunburn incident, I would say I have fully recovered and my face is now back to normal, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Annoying really as we could have really enjoyed our last few days of holiday in  Malaga and our trip to Gibraltar, not to mention not cancelling the multitude of hair appointments, doctors appointments, counselling sessions or other things I had planned for that weekend we returned. It is nice now to be enjoying the summer sunshine and fine English weather. 

Enjoying a garden party this weekend made me think more than ever about not only our impending wedding, less than a year and 3 months away now but also that of children. A family BBQ held in honour of my future nephew's birthday, I was surrounded by all ages, from 9-weeks to 90! In amongst them were a few familiar faces, many of which had stopped asking now about babies and instead were asking about the wedding, thank fuck. 

But as I poured myself another glass of Magical Mystical unicorn gin, infused with the flavour marshmallows and candy-floss, sparkling and shining as it glittered in the sunlight, Mr Warehouse found me and questioned why my portion size kept growing. Laughing it off we chatted in the kitchen for a moment away from the madness of bouncy castles and kids. 
"Doesn't this make you broody?" he asked coyly suggesting a family one day. It got me thinking again about what life would be like. I think about it more and more I suppose as I get older. Moreso in different situations such as drink-fuelled weekend parties and holidays in the sun where your face turns into a pork scratching?! These are the irresponsible antics I would have to give up, not to mention practically starving myself and the deprivation that will come with pregnancy. 

All the good things in life and all the foods I love are off limits; Alcohol, Blue Cheese, Smoked Salmon, running Eggs, Rare steak, Carpaccio, Prawns, and did I say alcohol just to mention a few! I may as well eat baby food myself. At least though by the end of it all I will not only have a bundle of "joy" but also an excuse for those stretch marks other than enjoying the odd KFC too much. 

A recent article on the Relate website goes through some of the thought-processes of starting a family. As with most people, the thought of starting up a family brings me out in a whole range of emotions from excitement and happiness through to total anxiety and fear, borderline terror!  I, like many other twenty-somethings my age, imagine creating a happy, safe home for my children, giving them the childhood I had and the one I had wished for. This being said I agree with the websites opening statement. I am incredibly nervous about the idea of bringing a new life into this world - I can barely raise myself let alone thing about raising a child. Relate go on to explain that "Having a child is an experience that brings into sharp focus your core life beliefs, the values that you inherited from your childhood, your relationship with your parents, your hopes and dreams – and your anxieties." I now know that feeling like there's a whole host of different feelings are jostling for attention in your head is entirely normal. After all, it’s a big decision!  

Obviously, I and Mr Warehouse are in a stable relationship so realistically it could work and should the worst-case scenario happen and I fell pregnant then we would just "deal with it" so as to speak, going with the flow and bring our child up outside of wedlock. Whilst it would not be the way things were meant to be in my head, I would still love that child nevertheless. I would like to be married first, more for the commitment to me as I would feel that if you can commit to me with no real permanent ties or links then you are an appropriate person who I could bring up a child with, especially when I already have major issues with commitment and abandonment already. 

It goes without saying that financially speaking, kids are costly. Having a baby is an expensive business and I only know this from the few trips I have had wandering around the children's section with friends or family searching for baby grows and muslin cloths. Relate make valid points saying "It’s important you make sure you're going to be able to afford all of the things you’d need to raise a child. This includes things like good, clothes and childcare – but may also need to take into account the expense of moving into a bigger property too".

All in all, I think that one day I would like children and my worries of not being an adequate mom have got better, but I doubt if they will ever disappear entirely. That being said though I know I am in good hands as Mr Warehouse's parental background is also littered with unhappy memories and unpleasantries. I know that my fiance is very child-friendly, whereas I may have a little bit of learning to do. Plenty of time before that though ... Chin Chin!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Swollen and Sun Burnt!

Ola, 

Hearing Mr Warehouse tinkering around in the background of the holiday apartment I knew it was still dark outside. It was the day we returned to the UK and as sad as we were after burning severely on Tuesday and hobbling round Gibraltar on our day excursion my Fiance and I was certainly going to be glad of our home comforts and a few friendly faces. 

Getting up and shuffling to the bathroom, face, legs and back stinging from the waves of hot and cold, I braced myself for my morning pee. That was up until that point relaxing. Until Mr Warehouse broke the morning silence with not a 'Good morning my sweetness' or 'Wakey Wakey my little Paella princess'. No, I was confronted by an awful shriek. 
"You probably shouldn't but you should look in the mirror" Mr Warehouse said, cautiously looking at my face. I was sun burnt I got it. I suppose he thought it would be funny for me to see my red Larry lobster face and how bad I had it, especially since Mr Warehouse's sunburn had come up in blisters and breaking skin around his ankles. 

But as I got up from my seat on the Spanish "throne" I was met by my own gasp of horror. My face was so swollen I could barely see out of my right eye. I tried to open it, try and try as I might it was swollen shut. My whole face had swelled to nearly three times what it normally was for a fat cow like me. Panicked I went to Mr Warehouse, now pottering in the kitchenette, packing things into the suitcase as and when he found them. 
Bursting into tears I crumbled into his arms as I thought about how I would get home. 
"They're not going to let me through passport control!" I wailed, Mr Warehouse consoling me with his big lovable embrace. "I look like Elephant man"

Pulling myself together and calming down I did what I could, took a pill (Paracetamol) and smothered myself in aftersun and Aloe Vera before packing my things up and sorting shit out. We left the apartment in good time to get to the bus stop, but with only a few moments to spare, parking our trip to the 'Farmacia' and I had to settle with a wet muslin cloth and sunglasses to hid my hideous appearance from the locals. 
"I'll be lynched like a beastly mountain leper" I whimpered to Mr Warehouse as we boarded the bus to the airport. 

Arriving at security it was a long line and very busy. Our flight wasn't until midday and already the airport looked rammed to the point of breaking with families, kids and adults with copious amounts of luggage, bags and cases. My face was throbbing and tight from being so inflamed so after getting through to the other side out first port of call was the Pharmacy or somewhere that would sell aftersun, Ibuprofen or anything containing any Aloe or Vera. Nadda. Two Pharmacies and both were before security. Suffering we boarded the plane, nearly an hour late. Landing nearly an hour and thirty minutes late into Luton all I wanted to do was go home. Catching a cab in rush hour over to my Grandparents house we avoided most of the school traffic and after a brief pop in to say hello we headed home, arriving just before dinner time and spending an hour or so with Momma Warehouse, thanking her once again for looking after our pups who we missed dearly before heading to bed, face still swollen. 

The following morning I woke to something much worse. I now could not see out of my right eye at all. My face, still swollen, was worse from my left eyebrow across my forehead and around my eye, all over my cheek and was even impeding my speech now. I was terrified. This was serious. Calling through to the village doctors was about as much help as propping my eye open with a razor blade. I called our emergency number in the UK, the NHS 111 service. NHS 111 can help if you have an urgent medical problem and you’re not sure what to do and is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. After my assessment I was, along with Mr Warehouse and his severely burnt legs and ankles, were told to report to the Accident and Emergency.  

After waiting for an hour we were seen by a Triage nurse who not only briefly assessed us and looked over our complaints with little empathy but then went on to berate us entirely, telling us off and scolding my Fiance and I for not wearing sunscreen, branding us almost stupid and idiotic, as if we didn't need telling. 
"You're both fair. Your should have been wearing sun cream" She laid into us. Yeah because spending several hours in A&E, wearing sunglasses the whole time and with a face the size of North Africa yeah really how I would choose to spend the morning following a holiday in the sunshine. Leaving in tears it was several more hours before we saw a doctor. I was seen first and after an assessment on my skin, facial swelling and eyesight I was sent away and told that the tightness and swell should subside in five-seven days! I return to work in three! Mr Warehouse was the same diagnosis and told to carry on taking a cocktail of Paracetamol, Ibuprofen and the odd Antihistamine to take down the swelling and carry on with the moisturising with Aloe Vera and aftersun. 

It has now been nearly a week since the sunburn and I would say I have nearly fully recovered and my face is still swollen and very much so in the morning when I first wake up, but is getting better, as it Mr Warehouse's legs and ankles. Safe to say that might b our last holiday for a while ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Teachings of Tenerife!

Heyyy,

Boarding our flight I was excited more than ever for mine and Mr. Warehouse's first beach holiday together. And to think it had taken nearly three years. Despite all the planning and preparation for the holiday Mr. Warehouse still stresses out about travelling whereas I find it probably one of the most relaxing things to do.

What was not relaxing was our flight. I forgot just how draining, exhausting and tiring a four-and-a-half hour flight can be. There is the food and drink to wait ages for and when it does come its overpriced junk, the limited leg room (for those more well-endowed than myself in the pins department) and then there is the risk that every traveler faces. That family. You know the ones people, look like they have just come from a council estate in Luton (and I can get away with saying that because essentially I was brought up on one) via the Jeremy Kyle show so as to have a polygraph test on the other half to find out if he is cheating with the neighbour two doors down. At least two children of which are brats and run around whilst the parents are oblivious to their poor behaviour, normally one of the 'little darlings' will squeal like a pig getting a vasectomy just to get the attention of Mom or Dad and in some instances it fails to work and in others the annoying little fuckwit gets a light telling off from the doting parents.

Now I get travelling with kids is difficult at the best of times and I don't begrudge parents bring children on flights or holidays, its a part of family life and as such the conditions for children, babies and toddlers are not ideal. Flying, and travelling in general is very adult and the combination of air pressure and the lack of things to do, coupled by the fact that they may well have had to get up earlier than normal will make for an unhappy adult let alone a child or someone smaller. But one thing I do dispute is the fact children of talking age screaming and shrieking so loud that is actually give people headaches from their misbehaviour and parents seemingly deaf approach to discipline, even on a busy flight to Tenerife.

So yeah the flight wasn't great but landing we were excited about the hotel and what it may look like. For three-hundred quid each, I wasn't expecting much, but certainly expected better. Bedsheets were stained and torn, the oven door was hanging off and the double room Mr. Warehouse and I had booked and paid for was a twin with no zip possibilities to turn into a double. This was not the three star hotel we signed up to, this was more like a two and that's being generous given the little cleaning and upkeep that went into the rooms. Disappointed Mr. Warehouse and I agreed that out run of good luck in bagging fantastic hotel rooms and free upgrades had finally run out. Sleepy from our trip we decided to go out for some dinner and then get some sleep, but not before Mr. Warehouse was offered Viagra, Marijuana and ever Cocaine on a visit to the infamous Playas de la Americas strip.

The following day I complained to the receptionist about the poor state of the room who basically​ said that she would get the handyman round to 'plasty--tie' the bed together so it is a double and make sure that the maids checked to room for cleanliness. Suffice to say it has not improved. Heading out for breakfast, Mr. Warehouse found a lovely little restaurant by the seafront over looking at the mountains and shores of Tenerife. Purely beautiful views, we sat down and ordered our breakfast, revelling in the luxury atmosphere. Finishing breakfast though we headed back to the tour operator next door to our hotel in order to book the excursions and days out for the coming week. More than two-hundred Euro later and we have ourselves a holiday of activities.

Feeling a bit of a loose end Mr. Warehouse and I decided to book ourselves on to a whale and dolphin sea safari, departing that afternoon. With a ninety-five-percent chance of Pilot Whales being seen along with a fifty-percent chance of seeing dolphins we were excited but realistic about an only five-percent chance of seeing turtles. As we waited to board our boat we looked around at the other couples also boarding the same excursion and realised we had made a grave decision in the fact that we did not bring sun cream.

However as we set sail we could not have anticipated the excitement that we felt after seeing Bottle-Nosed Dolphins off the shore of the island, smashing the fifty-percent stat right out of the water and all within thirty-minutes of leaving the harbour. Further on into our trip we found a family of pilot whales and was able to watch them from afar in their natural habitat along with their babies. Wrapping up the journey up we headed to a small cove where we dropped anchor and prepared to dive into the deep blue ocean. Whipping our kit off to unveil our swimwear underneath, Mr. Warehouse and I carried on as on lookers watched the crazy couple plunge into the saltwater below. It brought back all the memories of Kavos with the Tweedles when I had the adrenaline rush from jumping ship into the ocean and Mr. Warehouse agreed that it is an exhilarating experience he is glad to have done together, and to think that it was only our first full day on the island. But as the anchor was drawn up and we set sail back to harbour Mr. Warehouse pointed out something in the water. Brushing it off as simply driftwood,  as it was before on a similar excursion in Newquay last year I thought nothing more of it until my boyfriend jumps to his feet and yelled "Its a turtle!" and it sure enough looking over it was a bright yellow and green turtle swimming right past our feet as they dangled above the waves, clear as the sky above. However I think that the rest of the passengers on board had not seen the turtle and maybe assumed it was indeed driftwood. However Mr. Warehouse and I knew what we saw and he looked just like 'Crush' from Finding Nemo and Finding Dory. Stepping back on to dry land it was plain to see that our first excursion was incredible and myself and Mr. Warehouse agreed that it was the best money that we had spent in a long time, probably even the best value for our entire holiday at thirty-euros each.

That night we decided to head down to the main street in Los Cristianos where Mr. Warehouse and I were more than excited to try out the delights of the world famous Hard Rock Cafe. Unfortunately we were not able to get a table and so  decided to find somewhere else to eat for dinner with the idea of coming back earlier on another night to get a table. Settling on a restaurant near Harry's bar in the same eatery complex called 'Prime' specialising in steak and burgers, we were hungry and thought it looked good. Oh how wrong we were. With the service not being the greatest that Mr. Warehouse and I had received in any restaurant that we had eaten out at before, we assumed that it was just a busy Friday night and that the food would make up for the lack of attentiveness. It began well with the starters being scrumptious as I ate carpaccio whilst Mr. Warehouse tucked into a assortment of Spanish sausages and black pudding (despite the waiter coming back to say that there was no black pudding left). Sadly though when the mains arrived it went downhill very, very quickly. Asking for a rare steak I did not expect it to be still raw on my plate. Concerned about not wanting to be sick on my holiday, I asked the waiter if I could exchange the steak or have it cooked more since the middle of it was freezing cold. He obliged politely and brought it back promptly after it had been sliced in half and cooked further. But Mr. Warehouse did not get off lightly either as his burger which was minced steak was also rare when he had asked for it to be medium. With the mince from the burger being mixed with other ingredients and possibly in less hygienic standards than we expect I suggested not eating anymore, especially since the burger tasted like mould.

Another waiter came to collect our place still full with food and ask if our meal was OK. We could not lie any longer and explained the problems that we had so far with our food to which the waiter politely replied that he was sorry for the upset caused and said that he would get a reduction on our bill. This didn't seem to make much difference though since the bill came to nearly seventy-euros. Leaving the restaurant disappointed and robbed of money, we went back to the hotel room for an early night. However this would not have been the last time we saw the staff there at 'Prime'.

And early morning ensued as we prepared to go to the world famous Loro Parque. Home to some exotic animals including White Tigers, Lions and Silverback Gorillas Mr. Warehouse and I were excited to see them all but most importantly we were looking forward to seeing an unforgettable show with dolphins, setting this zoo apart from the others we have visited over the years. What sets Loro Parque apart from the rest is the fact that it is the only place in the world outside of Seaworld, USA that shows Orcas and killer whales in a live action show. With the way of the world at the moment especially with the controversial subject of keeping Orcas in captivity, it is highly unlikely that my children will never get to see Killer Whales in a show such as this, either here at Loro Parque or indeed at Seaworld, USA. Breathtakingly beautiful I highly recommend anyone coming to Tenerife to go and visit Loro Parque and take the once in a lifetime opportunity to revel in these animals glory and awe.

After returning from Loro Parque, Mr. Warehouse and I headed down to the Hard Rock Cafe in hopes that we would be able to get a table. Timing it perfectly,  we ate our meal which as we had anticipated was very yummy, all whilst we were surrounded by a great musical history. However when we came to pay for the meal I put in my credit card only to hear that it had been declined. Being only our second full day on the island I decided to check out how much money I had left on my card via the App. To my horror I looked at the balance that had been taken for the previous nights meal at Prime. One-hundred euros had been added to our bill for the evening and had promptly been taken from my credit card.

Furious and angry me and Mr. Warehouse marched straight over to the restaurant and demanded to speak to the manager. With the maitre d sensing that there was a complaint coming he called over the waiter that had seen to us the previous night. Explaining my issue politely the waiter was like a rabbit in headlights and it was at this point that Mr. Warehouse went from calmly fizzing with anger to volcanic eruption. Blowing his top, Mr. Warehouse angrily pointed out that it wouldn't have been so bad had the meal actually been decent but even then nearly two-hundred-euros is far too high of a bill for food that was undercooked, tasted awful and a lack of service. Hurrying us to the back of the restaurant where the Bar was, the waiter soon opened the till and took out the money to give back to us, at this point apologising profusely, all in the acknowledgement that Mr. Warehouse had puffed up like a pissed off peacock.

Relieved to have finally got my money back with the help of my little bouncer boyfriend, we decided on an early night and headed back to the hotel. The last couple of days have been a lazy few spending it we have lounged by the pool or reading magazines. Luckily Mr. Warehouse and I found a gorgeous little private beach with sectioned off sea-pool and so have spent a few long hours down there, snuggled on a luxurious double bed with a cocktail or few. Although last night Mr. Warehouse may have had a few more drinks than necessary and ended up sozzled. After crawling up the stairs to our hotel room and gobbling down a family sized bar of chocolate only to vomit it back up moments later Mr. Warehouse has advised me that he no longer wants to drink on this holiday, nor does he want any chocolate. Wonder what the next few days will bring ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

More like Shakira, Less Like Shamu!

Hey Hey, 

Running off into the bedroom screeching at the top of his lungs, Mr. Warehouse was more than excited. 
"Wait! Wait! I need to check my name is right?!" my boyfriend yelled from the bedroom of our ground floor apartment. After explaining that he knew his own name he can pounding back into the lounge throwing our passports on the sofa and saying that he was now ready. 
"We don't check in for another six months at least dear, why are the passports out already?" I exclaimed, smile brimming on my face. 
"Just to sure!" my Beau replied. 

Finally we had done what we had set out to do for years - A proper beach holiday. Just me, Mr. Warehouse, Some sun, sand and sea. It feels like decades since I felt the sand between my toes and I will certainly be glad to get back to sunning myself by the shore in the late August sun. And after months of looking and a large amount of pestering from me, Mr. Warehouse and I finally settled on and sifted through many, many holidays only to settle on somewhere he had already been. I think if I was honest with myself though, I knew it was going to end up that way. I enjoyed how enthusiastic he was about it all. 

Mr. Warehouse one and only beach holiday (apart from Newquay that is) was in the black-sand isle of Tenerife in the Canaries. Famous for its volcanic rock beaches and hot weather, Mr. Warehouse's first trip there was anything but relaxing it seemed. It was a stag do, one of his brothers I believe and by all accounts it was certainly memorable. Trips to titty bars, lap dances and some good old frolics in the sun, I heard Mr. Warehouse spent most of the first few days there in bed with minor heatstroke. Here's hoping that wont happen next time. 

We are staying in the Playas De Las Americas in the South of the Spanish island is located also near to the infamous aqua park, Siam Park. With its lazy river, man made White sand beach and never-ending stream of slide and water chutes this place seems far from what I remember a water park being as a kid. This is insane. Also nearby where we are staying on the island is Loro Parque a beautiful wildlife park where education and entertainment goes hand in hand with daily shows from the regular zoo performers including penguins and sea lions but also Dolphins and Orca's. 

Now I here what some of you may be saying, that Orca's and Whales of that size shouldn't be kept in captivity. But what about all the good work that goes on behind the scenes that shows what investigating animals in a close environment can help us as humans understand them and meet there needs in the wild better. I agree that some of the things, true or false, that have come from SeaWorld over the last few years since the 2013 Netflix Docufilm Blackfish aired have been far from savoury but I for one to say that I am for one looking forward to seeing these beautiful creatures in a way I would never be able to before or maybe again in my lifetime or even my children's. I mean if I could convince Mr. Warehouse to go to Orlando in Florida to see DisneyWorld, SeaWorld  and all the rest of them then I would but it is a bit of a mean steep to do in six months. 


Whale Watching tours, Sunset and Stargazing as well as the staples of a good old fashioned tat-market so I can buy my holiday knock-off handbag, I am fucking stoked for going. I cannot wait. Firstly though I think I may need to get my head in the game and start heading to the pool and some classes, half a stone in a month has gone already but it wont keep coming unless I keep up with the fitness regime, especially since I want to look more like Shakira than Shamu ... Bikini season here I come!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Chinese Man Stole My Change & Other Tales of Brits Abroad!

Heyy, 

This was the last thing I needed before my holiday with the girls?! Issues with my phone. After completing a system/software update on my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note4, upgrading the operating system from Android Lollipop to Android Marshmallow (*Geeky snort* for being so nerdy) it decided to knock out all my contacts leaving me unable to access my address book, call log, or even my key pad to call 999 for emergencies. As scary and frustrating as this is I also lost all my contact names so if I was able to make any texts, which was difficult as the system would just crash after a few seconds of being in my messages, I couldn't know for sure who I was texting as my names-to-numbers had been lost. Frustratingly after several calls to Samsung, over nine-hours backing up all my data, a factory reset and an unsuccessful restore of data my phone is still running at the same speed as a Windows PC with Packard Bell 1994 installed. So god help the poor person that has to answer my next call to Samsung when I touch down in England because for the love of god I will rip them a new arsehole. 

Anyhoo! I am on holibobs in the serenity that is the Canaries. Lanzarote to be precise. Has it been hotty in Lanzarote? Sort of. After touching down on the island known famously for its volcanic rock and black sand beaches, we were finally allowed off the plane by our snotty Liverpudlian air hostess and through our very grumpy passport control. To be brutally honest, apart from him sitting on a chair I genuinely thought to myself as he slapped my passport back to me on the desk that he resembled something of a seven dwarf from the fairytale. But myself and my Tweedles were far from Disney Princesses, and after a manic half-day at work, stretching myself between trying to sort my phone out and actually doing some work of my own I was more than pooped. An uneventful coach journey to the resort and cheeky cigarette on the balcony, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were ready for bed.

Waking up on the first morn of our week long holiday together Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were very excited to get out and about and explore all the sites and sounds that the darkness had hidden from us the night before. Our hotel, a white-washed building typical of Spanish architecture is called Oceano and whilst is not a five-star resort, certainly is one of the nicest "Budget-Budget" holiday resorts we have stayed in, even if you do have to pay for everything from the Wi-fi to the Kettle. The room is large and allows us all to have a bed as opposed to one of us always having to kip on the couch. The large balcony, overlooking the pool and bar areas it is the perfect spot that allows all three of us to sunbath topless on days when there is no point wasting money on beach sun-loungers for twenty-minutes worth of sun. Heading to the beach we singled out many a restaurant and were slightly bemused by why there are so many Chinese establishments on such a small strip. Nevertheless we were all soon down to our carefully selected swim-wear, basking in the sunshine and soaking up all the tanning time we could. But, as always, we went too far. Myself and Miss Tweedle-Dee are currently still regretting having a little afternoon snooze on said beach whilst the sun blazed our skin, turning me especially into what can only be described as a Christmas Candy Cane when naked. Mr. Warehouse back home finds this side-splittingly hilarious. Aftersun at the ready we have slowly began to relieve the sting although the redness I fear will last long after we leave the island. I wanted a Beyonce Bronzed Glow about me when I returned to my desk, not a Coke Can Original Hue! 

Saturday was overcast and feeling like the holiday sun might be gone forever we took to trawling the shops for anything exciting to spend our hard earned and poorly exchanged Euro's on. It is definitely all tat that we don't need but for some odd reason five fridge magnets with penis' and bottle openers on for a Euro each seems very good value for money, even if it will get some strange gasps from Nanny Pumpkin when she comes round. I have however seen some exceptional examples of faux handbags. The 'designer inspired' handbags will certainly be going in my luggage at the end of the trip and suffice to say that with my haggling techniques I may have luck in bagging more than one, if you will excuse the pun. 

Heading to the market Yesterday was a highlight as it always is, however yet more tat graced the beautiful cobbled streets of ancient market town of Teguise. Enough faux Michael Kors and Mulberry to drown in and even more magnets with phallus shapes adorning them. Cotton anklets, friendship bracelets and wooden foldout fruit bowls were all sold to us as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I walked through the streets. Coming to the end of our tether we agreed on a coffee and a bite to eat in order to get some worth from the trip. A few hours or so wasted we headed back to the bus and headed home, none of us buying anything apart from a magnet and a thimble as souvenirs. 

Although the day was bleak, we still decided on the evening being a right old British knees-up, starting with what should have been a banging Chinese. although, as with many of the restaurants out here, you are simply not allowed to browse the menu outside, the owners and staff invite you in to look at the food, pressurise you if you would like a table, add you on Facebook, Invite you to their second-cousins wedding next year and convince you to be the birthing partner for Great Aunt Isabella. OK maybe taking it too far, but nevertheless I was thrust into the seat of a questionable all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet before I could even say Hello Kitty. After what was an OK meal, we all paid. However as I was the only one (I always am) to put in the incorrect money for the meal, I waited patiently for my change. I was to be waiting a long time for I think they mistook it as a gracious tip and kept it. Sipping on my weird-tasting apperifer, from a shot-glass that contained a naked, 1970's-styled porn star  with a large cock at the bottom I thought to myself that if the local Chinese thinks I am tipping them next time they bring me a delivery then they will be sorely mistaken. Afterwards we went to see a drag act which was funny if a little scary when he/she/it/they look your way!

Suffice to say that today has been better as I have spent most of the day lounging on the sunbed at the beach, taking trips to the ocean and rocks for a dip and on the odd occasion, with Miss Tweedle-Dumbs support of course, venturing out into the deepness of the Mediterranean ocean, away from the prying eyes of men in snorkels and children in goggles, to strip off and into the basic bathing suit that mother nature blessed us with, and all in the light of day. Honestly, nothing makes you feel more free or at one with the world than pulling off your bikini bottoms and unsnapping your bikini top. I found something out today as well that I have always wondered but never known how to achieve in the suburban environment of my homelands. Do Boobs float? Well I can tell you all today folks that yes, yes they do. And boy does skinny dipping give you the breast-lift you have always dreamt of. Oh yes. I would highly recommend anyone, heck everyone, skinny dipping and am glad that I have had the opportunity to brave the taboo. 

So right now the Tweedles are showering and making themselves beautiful for dinner tonight. They needn't have to though because on this holiday it has shown me just how much I love them and our friendship. After last weeks debacle with my father and how low I have been after accepting him as the selfish and arrogant arse he is, I am glad to have chosen-sisters who will always have my back, especially when the Chinese man decides not to give you back your change.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx