Sunning Ourselves in the City by the Sea

Morning one and all, 

Last week I explained of the issue I had with my Landlord in paying back my deposit which was rightfully owed to be following Mr Warehouse and I moving out in November 2018. No sooner had the money hit my bank account my fiance was asking what I was going to be spending my money on. Jokingly I said about going on a holiday, expecting his normal response of "No, we cant afford it". But, on this occasion there was something different. 
"If you can find a holiday for under £400.00 then we can go!" Mr Warehouse said playfully. And so, heading to my go-to websites I found a flight for under £100 for both of us. Not booking any allocated seats and only one bag between the two of us I was off to a good start. Heading over to the hotel websites I found a great little hotel, less than five minutes from the beach and with a pool and air-con. Even better was the £250-odd that I had been saving up in Tesco Clubcard vouchers paid for it entirely. Malaga here we come!

It was dark. It was fucking dark. But we were now hours away from boarding a flight to the sunshine coast of Spain. We had only been asleep for a few hours after partying with some of my work colleagues at a friends 30th birthday party so to say we were tired was an understatement. However, driving down as dusk broke and checking ourselves through security I could feel Mr Warehouse becoming more and more anxious about the baggage and seating arrangements. After a quick spot of breakfast we were on our way and stepping into the Ryanair Jet, bound for Spain. 

The flight itself was nice and mainly smooth going, helped along by the film Baywatch and a pecan plait from home. Arriving in Malaga airport I could feel the humidity hit as the doors of the plane opened. Reunited, Mr Warehouse and I headed through the airport and outside where we decided not to get a transfer or taxi and instead opted for the local bus, only three-euros and was less than forty-minutes, about the same as a cab. This saved us about twenty-euros and whilst we had not necessarily pre-planned this, I would certainly recommend. As we left the comfort of the bus, Mr Warehouse and I walked through the beautiful botanical-inspired gardens to our hotel, located as described, perfectly between the beach and harbour. 
"So is the pool on the top floor?" I asked the clerk who met us there to show us around our apartment. He looked at me confused. I repeated my question and this time he responded, telling us that there was no pool. Annoyed slightly the clerk and I both looked through the photos n the website and sure enough there was not any, however I was certain to have booked one with a pool that all the holiday apartments shared. Signing away the papers I vowed to check once settled, although after checking it seems I may have been thinking of another hotel that was in running when booking. 

And so far since then our little holiday has been great. Halfway through now and still lots left planned in. Our first few hours were spent exploring and finding the amenities such as the beach, cafes, restaurants and the Harbour before having dinner and getting an early night. Yesterday was spent again mainly exploring and having a walk around the old town of Malaga City. We have yet to go to the traditional indoor market however we have booked onto a trip to visit my fathers birthplace tomorrow - Gibraltar (hes not Spanish, just part of a travelling military family). 

Yesterday evening I think was the best so far by a mile as Mr Warehouse and I boarded a catamaran boat trip to watch the sun set over the city by the sea. Standing in line we waited patiently. Mr Warehouse had ushered that the group of Spanish teenage boys behind us a few meters away were also boarding the catamaran. 
"Oh god I hope there not a little bunch of Arseholes" Mr Warehouse stated. Agreeing with him I nodded. A few moments later the queue we were in began to move and people began to board the boat and take up their places on the netted seating/sunbathing area. 
"Excuse me you were here first," Mr Warehouse said ushering the man stood next to him to take the spot in front of him in the queue. Clear and concise came his reply. 
"No, No. I'm with the group of boys over there" the Spanish looking man said in plain English. Oh Fuck! Feeling embarrassed Mr Warehouse said nothing and turned back to face the front. Whether he heard us or not make the comments about his pose/crew, Mr Warehouse and I now had to spend the next few hours out at sea with him and his gang of 'youts'. 

Sailing away on the deep ocean with nothing but water between us and North Africa, it was nice to see my fiance fully relaxed. 
"I am really glad that you push me out of my comfort zone and to do things and go places I have never been to before" he said, quite out of the blue. Sweet and romantic, my earlier naughty dream only reinforced the fact that I knew he was the one. To think that this may be the last holiday I have with a an unmarried name! The boat trip was beautiful and I have taken many many photos which I am hoping, when I have a free moment that I can make into a little holiday montage and video, similar to what we did with our Tenerife vlog! 

Tonight I think we will head up to the old town again, hoping for some yummy Paella and fresh seafood before a spot of shopping for nic-naks and holiday crap before an early night as we have to be up and out before 7am in order to get the transportation to Gibraltar - The home of my ancestors, named after the rock itself and to be forever adorned with monkey's. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Deposits And Departure Gates!

Heyy, 

In a few days from now, I will be probably writing from you in the hotel lobby or maybe by the pool of our holiday apartment in the centre of Malaga, Spain. Sipping on cocktails and sunning myself in the warmer weather I will certainly be glad of the break, especially since it has been a couple of years since mine and Mr Warehouse's Tenerife break! What with saving for a house, my mental health issues and every spare penny going towards our new home Mr Warehouse and I decided against a summer break in 2018. That being said it was not exactly planned this year either, what with the wedding less than a year and a half away now I expected to be ploughing every penny we had not only into our new home but also towards the wedding of our dreams. That would have been the case until Mr Warehouse gave me an ultimatum back in the dreary depths of March. "What will you do with the money?"

It all started when we moved out of our little starter flat in Bedford town centre. We had just received our new keys when we had noted that days earlier paid our rent for the next month up until the end of November 2018. 
"Don't suppose you could give us half of it back and we can be out in a fortnight?" I asked my Landlord cheekily. He didn't agree, although I knew he wouldn't. I had, along with my new fiance, a month to move our things out and clean the property ready for the Landlord's new tenants. Clearing most of our stuff in one weekend we made sure to give the flat a good solid three days worth of cleaning, scrubbing every skirting board, every wall, every tile to make sure it was spotless. 

I had been relying on my £400.00 deposit money coming back to me before we had bought a lot of the home stuff we needed and as Christmas approached it would have been nice to maybe go somewhere or just have a more enjoyable festive period, especially after the year Mr Warehouse and I had just battled. And on checking out with the Landlord everything seemed to go swimmingly. There were a few items that needed to be collected and taken care of furniture wise however on returning the keys the Landlord mentioned that the carpet may need changing and he agreed that he would find a few quotes and be in touch with a price so I knew how much of my deposit would be used, something we reluctantly agreed to. As the festivities got underway Mr Warehouse and I was able to even steal a weekend away to Bournemouth with our eldest. Soon enough Christmas arrived as did New Years and without a moments thought I realised it had been well over six weeks and I had still to hear anything from my ex-landlord regarding my deposit and what he thought was appropriate for a carpet that needed replacing waaaay before I moved in. 

I called and called and called but nothing; texting every time I left a voice mail, just in case he was out of the county or not able to answer a call. After several weeks I tried emailing, however the email I had just kept bouncing back. Hell, even Mr Warehouse had gone round to the Flat after work some nights just on the off chance he may be there but still nothing. Clutching at straws at the beginning of January this year I called the estate agents that originally dealt with me in letting the penthouse flat in the same block. They were helpful and put me in contact with the DPS, Deposit Protection Scheme. Since April 2007, a landlord must put the deposit for the property you are renting into a government-backed tenancy deposit scheme (TDP). This gives the landlord or letting agent's assurance that the tenants will meet the terms of the tenancy agreement, not cause damage to the property and pay the rent/bills. 

Finding out where my deposit was the first thing, next was trying to get it back. I found out, again through the helpful lettings agent, that my landlord must have returned my deposit within 10 days of us both agreeing how much you’ll get back. Since it was January and I had heard absolutely nothing since I handed back my keys there was only one thing left to do - Raise a dispute. I was told it would be pretty easy since it was clear that I had made every effort to try any other means of getting this resolved and had the texts and phone calls to prove it. And so I put pen to paper (well fingers to keyboard really) and filled in the online application form with ease. A few days later I had a response and was told that the Landlord / Agent would have a right of reply and that this would be allowed up until the beginning of February, three-weeks away. Should what I thought the inevitable would be and that there was no response from the Landlord then the DPS would look in favour to the tenant and in most cases award the full amount back to me. I was anxious but confident I had done everything I could. 

Within a day or two of logging a deposit dispute, I had a text from my ex-landlord, asking if we could meet at the property the following day to discuss the deposit issue and collect the "piles of post that was building up". I explained that the following day was not convenient and since I had been trying to get ahold of him for months now that he would have to wait until the weekend when Mr Warehouse and I would be free. I never heard back. 
Friday afternoon of that week came and I received another text message asking about the time Mr Warehouse and I would be meeting my ex-landlord at the property. I explained that since I had not had confirmation that I had assumed it was inconvenient and had made other plans for the weekend. I had instead agreed that I could meet him at the property, along with my fiance after work that day but that we needed to be finished by a certain time as we had somewhere to be, a lie but I didn't want to be waiting around for hours. 

Incidentally, on arriving at the flat, rushing there from work in 4pm traffic, my ex-landlord still did not show up for a further forty-minutes, only to arrive and announce he had forgotten the keys so needed to return home to fetch them, delaying the meet by a further half hour or so. During which time I took a look through the windows of my once precious abode. I was horrified to see that in the darkness of that January evening my ex-landlord had completely decked out my old gaff with new carpets and even painted the walls. Terrified he was going to try and charge me all of this, I thought it best to call the TDS and get some advice on how best to proceed, considering I had already filed a dispute. They explained that despite the ex-landlord fully fitting the flat out he would not be able to put that charge to me, even if they were cashmere carpets and golden paint (of which they were certainly not)! 

It was at this point that I also found out to my shock that legally my ex-landlord could not ask for any of the deposit to be used on the downstairs flat. You see, when I first moved into the block I rented the top floor 1-bedroom apartment and loved every moment of it. I paid a £400.00 deposit and then a year or so later when the ground floor property came up for rent I initiated a conversation to my Landlord and asked if I could have the first refusal. He agreed and since I had been a good tenant and always paid my rent on time with never any issues he agreed that the deposit for the penthouse apartment would simply be used for the ground floor one and so nothing more was said. Although that had not been the case as the Landlord have never moved the deposits over and for the sake of a letter at the end of the numerals (I moved from A to B), there was nothing he could do. 

And so as the van pulled into our old street again for the second time that evening I was relieved to know I had the upper hand and that every penny of that £400.00 I scrimped together for back in 2013 was coming back to me one way or another. A snotty and rather uncomfortable chat with the ex-landlord ensued, something in which I sound recorded on my phone simply for evidence should I have needed it. He accused Mr Warehouse and I of not cleaning the flat and leaving it in a "diabolical state" claiming that there were holes left in walls, paint jobs messy (from the tenant before me I must add) and that the carpets were threadbare and in need of replacement since they smelt like dog and were damaged. Offended I explained about how difficult it was to get hold of him and he brushed it off stating that it was "no excuse for how you left it". Some bully tactics took place and at one point he asked us about coming back to clean the oven, which in all fairness we had forgotten totally about until he brought it up. 
"Well," I started, knowing I was fully going to fucking win this. "Considering we had not been able to reach you for several weeks that had turned into months, I was not wholly confident you were going to turn up this evening and even then I was not sure what to expect so, therefore, have not come equipped with any cleaning tools, however, if you would like both of us to come back at a later date and clean this and anything else we would be more than happy to do so." I finished. This caught him off guard completely and maybe expected me to roll over and just agree to be billed. It was at this point he made some excuse about not wanting the hassle and that he would just arrange it himself. On getting down to the crunch however my ex-landlord reeled off the long list of thing we had left for him to clear and clean up, mainly redecorating works which needed to be done really in order for the property to be let again in a reasonable state. 

"I have had to pay out over £400.00 for the work I have done here and I would say I am being fair in only asking for half of it back from your deposit? Don't you agree?" the ex-landlord ushered to Mr Warehouse. My fiance, big and strong, chest puffed out like a peacock stood his ground and reiterated what I had said time and time again stating that this was out of our hands and that it was going through a deposit dispute with the TDS. 
"Well, we only have to tell them what we want them to know," the ex-landlord said slimily trying to claw back some money from his crappy paint job and cheap carpet. 
"Besides, who are they more likely to believe?" he ended. Then, awkward silence. 
"We need to think about it" I ended the long period of silence with explaining it was now a joint decision and that I needed to discuss it with my new fiance and come back to him knowing full well I wouldn't and would eventually walk away with my money, rightfully mine. 

And true to that, I did. A few weeks later I received an email in my inbox stating that despite timeline and numerous attempts to contact the Landlord /Agent even past the cut-off date for a right of reply, I was being awarded my full deposit back to me. The money landed in my account within a few hours. A couple of days after the TDS settled the claim I received a call from my ex-landlord. I was in the hairdresser's chair so could have answered but in any instance, I would have been at work and so screened the call. I listened to the polite and slightly sinister voice mail, demanding I contact him as a matter of urgency regarding the "damage" to his property and to discuss the "deposit issue" suffice to say that I did not return his call. Instead, I blocked his number and booked a holiday! Malaga here we come!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Happiest Place on Earth ...

Heyy, 

So finally the weekend was upon us and it was that time of the month again where I get to see my besties! This time it would be a change of scenery from the one-bedroom council flat and instead was the homely comforts of the in-laws. Well future in-laws anyway! Oh you never heard? Well allow me to explain. Back in late summer when Mr Warehouse and I was getting ready to go on holiday to Tenerife, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend were doing some planning of their own. 

I knew Miss Tweedle-Dee from across the road directly from my house and we made friends initially in Lower School where she was a bitch and threw sand in my face. The two-some soon became a three-some when Miss Tweedle-Dee started started as a new girl in our Middle School moving from London somewhere. Almost instantly we were inseparable, spending every time outside of the classroom with each other either out playing or hanging around each others houses. Of course we would argue as would any group of girls, there were a few falling out over boys and other friends trying to make a move into our triplet but we always somehow made our way through. As we spent our time lazying away our weekends and summer holidays I always thought we would be friends forever and even in our old age we would still be giggling and laughing like we did when we were in school. But as the years passed we grew older and our groups of friends started to change but even with us being split by separate High Schools and Miss Tweedle-Dumb moving away, it still didn't stop us from hanging out. As we got into the thickness of our teenage life our priorities started to change and whilst I enjoyed going out and drinking in the local parks with boys and hanging out with groups of people much older than myself and my school friends, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee preferred to go to house-parties and drink in local parks around where their "posh" friends lived. 

Soon after we lost contact altogether as our lives separately progressed. No falling out. No arguments. Just drifted. I finished my GCSE's as did Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee and we all headed to a different sixth form or college and lived out maybe some of our best days yet. After I moved to college in my second year of higher education the Tweedles and their "posh" friends went to university and after falling in love with Mr. Workaholic and getting life a little more stable I reached out and made contact with them to go for a drink, maybe the first one we had together, legally. In the few weeks that followed Mr. Workaholic and I visited them in halls and this is when I first met my besties future husband to be. He seemed shy and very reserved for a Uni-student, nothing like the loud, brash and ladish guy I met on my weekend binges. Someone focused, head-down and knew what they wanted and where they wanted to be. "Someone just like my Mr. Workaholic" I said to Miss Tweedle-Dumb as I waited in the car park for Mr. Workaholic to come and pick me up. 

"I am so pleased we have both found happiness and hopefully we can be apart of each others lives forever - Haha maybe even a double wedding!" I jested with her as I waved goodbye. Unbeknownst to me that within twenty-four hours it would all change for the following evening my dreams of a life with Mr. Workaholic were shattered into tiny fragments of painful glass as he ended our relationship. The first people I messaged was the Tweedles. They didn't believe me. They thought it was just one big sick joke. I wished it was. My life was over as I knew it and the man I thought I was going to marry betrayed my trust by snuffing it out without a chance of trying to make it work again. Packing my bags I stayed at my dad's that night but Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee were there though out it all. The pain, the hurt, the emotional roller-coaster. And even when I went back to Mr. Workaholic (in which I never told them about but I am almost certain they knew) they still stood by my side and never scolded me for going back to what was familiar, just support and cuddles and boozy nights out getting paralytic drunk in order to forget. 

As the years passed Miss Tweedle-Dumb dropped out of Uni and Miss Tweedle-Dee barely started but after landing good jobs together life was finally settled. Miss Tweedle-Dumb would visit her boyfriend on different weekend when she could and even when he graduated with flying colours and moved back down to his hometown of Basingstoke, Miss Tweedle-Dumb would still visit regularly. But after being together all of about four or five years, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her Bae decided to make the move and get their own place in the summer of last year. Only a one-bed, ground floor council flat but it was more than most people get offered when only a couple and it was certainly plenty for them. Building their lives together and watching them grow together they began to travel, as any young couple would visiting all the romantic tourist hot-spots across Europe and even farther afield including Paris, Rome, Las Vegas and more. Each time back home, Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself would prepare to see if he popped the question then?! But it never came. I was expecting it to never come and for them to just be that couple that are not engaged nor married but maybe have a child or two. Until a fortnight ago ... 

After being let down for a job offer in Europe, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her Boyfriend took the opportunity to book a once in a lifetime trip to Disneyland Florida, The Happiest Place on Earth. And that it certainly was for as my dearest friend looked up in awe of the Disney princess castle, the midnight sky alight with fireworks and stars she turned back to the love of her life only to be greeted by a one singular knee and a shiny silver ring. Shocked and stunned (as were we all guys!) I was so overwhelmed with happiness when I got a picture the following morning I cried tears of happiness. I was so unimaginably joyful for her. Whilst close friends and family asked me how I felt, almost in a sarcastic way expecting my to selfishly want it to be me that got engaged at Disneyland Florida, I replied that I was genuinely over the moon for her. And whilst at first I begrudged her for going to the place where dreams come true in the first place because I wanted to go, I was thrilled at the prospect of a wedding I actually had a close relationship to the Bride! 

This weekend, I expected anyway, was going to be filled with wedding magazines, bridal boutiques and visiting venues. But it wasn't. It was normal. As if it never happened. Maybe its shock I don't know and maybe I was a little over-excited but I thought that something was going to be different to be about Miss Tweedle-Dumb now she was engaged. But there isn't. She isn't. Miss Tweedle-Dumb is the same girl I have grown up with. Silly, Girlie, Voluptuous and full of life. As life has gotten harder with jobs, families and the additional expenses that go with it all, us three have been there for each other as misfitting triplets. Some of us have lost friends and even close family members along the way as some people will come and some will go but for you to find someone so special that you want to spend the rest of your life with them and dedicate your whole being to them then they have to be pretty special. No matter what happens in the future, I will forever be the structure that my friend need as they are for me. Even if it is on the Hen 'Do in Magaluf ... 

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

The Comedown is Hard!

Olaa!

Driving Mr. Warehouse to his doctor's appointment on Friday morning I could feel the blues setting in already and it has not even been twenty-four hours yet. As the chill of autumn crept into my bones and the spitting rain settled on the windscreen of my car only to be wiped away with my automatic windscreen wipers. I remember the comedowns from the other holidays that I had, and on recalling just how bad coming back to reality after Las Vegas, I knew that I would soon change my tune. Besides, the leaves are now falling and Halloween is well on its way. Fireworks will soon be in the shops and cold winter nights will replace the long summer days. And then before you know it it will be Christmas!!! 

But enough about what the next few months entail, I know that you really want to know what the rest of our holiday in Tenerife was like you nosey-beggers! So the last time we spoke Mr Warehouse had become exceedingly drunk, and to what I recount, ate a family sized bar of chocolate only to vomit it back up moments later. After we cleaned up (and when I say we I actually just mean me) and awoke the next morning, Mr. Warehouse feeling a little bit worse for wear, we decided on a relaxing day by the pool. Now you may think that lounging  by the pool all day would sound like a blissful dream, however there are always those aforementioned parents that do not think their children need to start school at the same time as everyone else and as a result are encroaching on my holiday space, taking up sun beds and generally being a annoyance when trying to catch some rays! 

On said afternoon as I was lounging by the pool on a bed which can only be described as made from flimsy plastic, barely able to hold up my posterior. Enjoying the sunshine and enjoying exactly how hot it was in comparison to what was previously a very cold office on a Monday afternoon. Thinking about the constant ringing of the telephone and customers calling in with problems and issues put a smile on my face all in the knowledge that I did not have to deal with it for another week (and as wonderful as that may have seemed I think I was more than happy to get back to the daily Grind today). Plugging in my headphones I was loving life jamming away with my toes to Dizzee Rascal or something by Calvin Harris pretending I was at a cool party in my head, all the while covering my head and face with my large beach hat so as not to burn my forehead and nose again. 

Suddenly I felt a large drip on my belly. "Surely it can't be rain, its barely clouded over all week" I thought, "probably one of those annoying kids spraying water at me whilst their parents try to ignore them as much as everyone else" I questioned as I prepared to sit up and check. Looking around there was no children in my vicinity and not a water gun to be seen. "Hmmm" I pondered as I lay back down to crisp up. But just as I laid my head back under my massive sombrero I felt a splash of cold water hit me on the stomach and legs. There was only one person that could be. Gasping for air as the shock hit me just as much as the water had done, I whipped off my shades to look up and see Mr. Warehouse standing on the balcony clutching in empty glass and looking fairly pleased with himself. Angry, cooled-down and humoured all at the same time I dashed in and wrestled Mr. Warehouse into a tickle fight. I suppose that this is what holidays are meant for the silly occasions where you are able to be yourself and have fun. 

Tuesday Mr. Warehouse and I headed out early to get one of the first buses to the local water Park. Obviously when I say local water park it probably brings to mind silly little rides for kids, dodgy plasters floating around in the pools and nearly slipping over at every turn. But this was different. This was Siam Park. Siam Park is the best Water park in the entire world, at least according to TripAdvisor anyway. Spending most of our day on the lazy river getting burnt further, Mr. Warehouse and I did venture into the Beach area where we were knocked head over heels in a man-made tidal wave which is every combination of emotions from hearing the horrified screams of people waiting to be hit by the wave, to the excited squeals of children (OK and me as an adult) as they watch it hurtling towards them, ready to sweep them away. Mr. Warehouse braved a few rides with me as well including a dreaded "red ride". The Park as a whole follows a very simple traffic light system whereby the rides are labelled from Green which is very plain and simple family friendly rides, all the way up to read which is death-defying, exciting and wet all at the same time. I attempted a few videos of some of the rides and experiences we had in the park as well as the other things we did about the week, however despite being on the continent where buying drugs on the street is seemingly readily available they still take health and safety very seriously and as a result I was not allowed to film on most of the rides in Siam Park. 

Our last full day on the island I planned to spend in Paradise on mine and Mr. Warehouse's little private beach we found, however the boyfriend thought that it would be a good idea to gain some cultural knowledge about the island and Discover some of the delights surrounding the resorts. In a last ditch attempt to find something to do we booked ourselves on an excursion to tour the volcanic mountain range of Teide national park as well as visiting the mountains it's self. As beautiful as it was it was nothing in comparison to the Grand Canyon, for I am afraid to say that once you have seen one rock you have seen them all. When you look at the fact that Mount Teide national park could fit into the Grand Canyon national park over thirty-times, it certainly gives you a bit of scale. Travelling across the mountain range we headed to some little seaside towns where we got to have a spot of lunch before soaking in the beautiful island of Tenerife in all its tropical glory. Tackling the treacherous roads that lead up and down of the mountain range I was certainly glad of getting a coach and not hiring a car as I am not sure that I would have been able to hold my nerves whilst going round some of the hairpin turns we had to manoeuvre. 

Alas though our holiday had to come to an end at some point. We had our pooch to come back to and our lovely little flat which Miss Tweedle-Dee had been looking after the both of them whilst Mr. Warehouse and I were away. Since being back I think people are accustomed now to thinking that Mr. Warehouse and I are constantly holidaying and are planning next years already. Whilst I would love to have a job of simply writing reviews and going on trips to just write and blog and vlog all the time, that is not reality and thus I need to return back to my normal office job in order to save up for the next time we go away. Where Mr. Warehouse and I will go nobody knows;; Prague, Budapest, Krakow, Bratislava. But one thing is for sure that the next few weeks I will certainly be keeping my eyes peeled for a good deal through one of the budget Airlines. 

'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

Three More Days!!!

Hiya, 

With less than 72-hours until myself and Mr Warehouse will be on our holiday in Tenerife, suffice to say that we are very excited. The question is do have we got everything ready and are we fully prepared to board the plane? No. The answer would be no. Have I packed? No. Has Mr. Warehouse packed? No. Has anyone done anything besides from getting their hair and nails booked in at the salon been done - Well that stuff is booked, but everything else is being left till last minute as per usual. 

But there has been a valid excuse for this weekend it was a bank holiday in the UK, our last one for a while as the next time that we have a day off from work legitimately will be for Christmas. Normally I will try and plan to go away to somewhere with the dog and Mr Warehouse however we were very busy this weekend with social events and also a bit of overtime we were certainly stack to our eyeballs. Friday was an easy day in terms of both work and evening, but after a hard and long week at work I was more than happy for the extended weekend, all in the knowledge that the next time I see my desk I will be less than two days away from my holiday. 

Saturday started early with Mr Warehouse going to work overtime for the morning, and being the only driver in the household I had drawn the short straw by taking him to work. At 5.30am. But after an extended lay-in and a chill out on the sofa with the dog I was more than ready to start my day, again. Although there wasn't much left of the day to start giving the fact that I collected Mr Warehouse and went into town for a mooch and some last minute holiday shopping. Heading home in order to bake the remaining cakes for the christening the next day we were going to, we had little time to catch a breath before we were around to Mr Warehouses Brothers in order to look after their children. It wasn't until 3am we got home on Sunday and shattered, in our haste to get into bed and some sleep before morning we forgot to put our alarms on. As a result we woke up at the time that we were due to be leaving for the church in order to arrive in time for the christening. It was not going to be possible to make it to the church in time and so therefore we decided that we would wait in a car park of the reception venue so that we could await the new arrival. 

Unfortunately due to the gloriously sunny weather it was getting rather warm in my car and as a result the icing had a split. They looked like a four-year-old had done them and to hand them over to the mother of the child would have been an absolute embarrassment. Feeling depressed and at an absolute low-ebb due to the fact of my cupcakes were melting I said that I didn't want paying for them in the state they were. The disappointing thing is that I had been working on these cupcakes from the moment that she had asked me to do them, trying to work out the different ways that I would be able to carve out a centre and fill it with a rainbow. Hours has spent the last several weeks stuck in the kitchen slaving away trying to make the cupcakes look as beautiful as possible. And to top it all off we ended up arriving at the venue and realising we had forgotten the christening present. So safe to say that Sunday was far from perfect, for me at least. 

Today was far more relaxed with a cheeky Nando's lunch and mooch around town for some bits for the house / dog sitter (AKA Miss Tweedle-Dee) whilst we are away. Seeing family this afternoon, Mr. Warehouse and I are now relaxing in preparation for going back to work, but only for a few hours. Next time we talk I might be writing to you from a beach or beside the pool with a cocktail or two ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

New Life, New Swag!

Heyy Heyy, 

Following on from last week's cheese Saga, Mr. Warehouse and I have since binned the smelly, perfumed cheese and instead bought a stronger variety and something a lot more palatable. And to think that the next shop I will be doing for our monthly food will be after our holidays. Speaking of which, with exactly a month to go today, me and Mr. Warehouse I'm nearly fit to bursting with looking forward to our first beach holiday together. After nearly three-and-a-half-years together I can hardly believe that we have never had a beach holiob. 

In preparation for such event it would only be fair that we would hit the shops for some new clobber. Now despite having a wardrobe fit to burst I still have the absolute urgency to buy holiday clothes. I have tops and skirts, and along with my myriad of kimonos, dresses and bikinis, all of them virtually worn a handful of times, all in all I know in my heart of Hearts that I really do not need any more clothes. However a unicorn pool float and a towel with pockets is still on my shopping list. Normally I don't care too much about what I look like or how I will look in photo's as there is a common understanding in the female world that we will just simply edit our way to perfection. Mr Warehouse is a boy and to put it bluntly does not understand it. Whilst I am told almost everyday that I am beautiful without all of the make-up and hair by my wonderful boyfriend, I still want to make sure I look good on holiday, and even more so when we will be spending so much time together. 

You might hazard a guess that Mr Warehouse was much more of a simple person, buying something only if he needs it and not because it's on sale. And for the most part you would be right in thinking this, as throughout the week he wears a uniform (lucky bugger) and as a result never wears normal clothes unless it is a date night or it is the weekend. However, this weekend after just been paid, both of us decided to head off to Bovingdon Market, which was originally Miss Tweedle-Dee's idea just to have a mooch around the 'designer brands'.From household goods such as knife blocks, pillows and carpets right down to the knock-off-nigel Timberland boots, Ralph Lauren T-shirts and Michael Kors handbags. You name it and Bovvy had it. And all for a fairly reasonable price. Well most of it anyway. Arriving to pick Miss Tweedle-Dee up for once I was earlier than expected. I even had to stop so someone (AKA Mr. Warehouse) could feel his face with a McDonald's breakfast, complete with extra hash brown. Nevertheless I chose the healthier life and opted for Latte with a Banana and Yogurt from home which I never actually got to eat as I was driving. As I explained to Miss Tweedle-Dee as she got into my newly MOT'd Vivienne; I am not on a diet  - I am just simply healthy eating. 

With less than four weeks to go until I am on a beach in Tenerife I certainly feel more pressure on this holiday with Mr Warehouse then I do with the girls. I don't know maybe it is the environment that I now find myself in on a daily basis. Verses my old office where I spent my days with a ragingly posh lesbian, a hackney city girl and an old man verging on retirement. Now I am in an office full of beautiful girls and women (As well as you men - You know who you are) who make an effort every day with their appearance. Applying make-up and doing their hair nice and pretty, a part of me honestly wonders why they bother. I am not single and there is no hot men to flirt with at work so what is the point. Equally I feel it is nice that we collectively all seem to make an effort maybe not necessarily for our co-workers but more-so for ourselves as women. 

I also get the feeling that life in my new(ish) office is to be constantly looking your best at face value is not the end of it. There is the Instagram's, Facebook updates and selfies to contend with. I feel like such a typical 'twenty-something-girl' by being desperate to get an invite to a fitness class or invited out for dinner or for a quiet night in with a bottle or two. It is a more sophisticated way of socialising that I am not sure I am accustomed to yet, although I am sure than in time the constant conversation about Love Island or what is at the top of my Spotify playlist will make a difference. A little part of me wonders whether I can ever go back to feeling my absolute self at work, discussing every little niggle in life and talking through all my problems with girlie work colleagues, both inside and outside of the office - But on the other hand, maybe I am not meant to be my full self at work, just the professional version of me. Maybe its just time to move on ... 

Anyhoo, arriving at the market it bought all the fun of it back when Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would all come down with one of our parents and I would look at all the handbags and shoes, hoping that one day I can afford to buy whatever I wanted and not just what the pocket money in my purse would get me. After scouting round from top to bottom of the market, perusing all the goods that everyone had to offer and working out which places we were going to buy what from we walked away with some supposedly John Lewis plush pillows, some pretty ballerina pumps with pom-poms on them, RayBan Sunnies, some T-shirts for Mr. Warehouse holiday wardrobe and some gorgeous smelling bath-bombs for me. A successful weekend I would say ... 

'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