Good Afternoon All,
So as many of you will know from last week's post I have had a bit of a busy week and an even more manic weekend. After arriving home Monday evening and writing to you all I was up at the crack of dawn next morning to go into work to sign some papers and inevitably I couldn't help myself but to get stuck in for a couple of hours. What can I say though I am a self-confessed control freak who hates to leave her desk knowing that, like most things, no one else can quiet to it better than little old me. Nevertheless I thought I would use my time wisely and head to town afterwards to run some errands. Whilst shopping and collecting things for the weekend ahead I decided to catch up with Mr. Cheese whom was in town himself having coffee with his cousin.
Obviously feeling the awkwardness she left pretty quickly leaving Mr. Cheese and I to talk about what we have been up to and how life was now we were separated. Not dwelling on it too much Mr. Cheese suggested lunch. Tucking into a bagel I felt awkward still as the fact that this was not a romantic lunch date with a boyfriend played on my mind. Shoving it to the broom cupboard of my head we ate lunch and as the afternoon progressed we eventually found ourselves on my sofa back at my flat. Flirting had commenced as soon as we met and being alone on the sofa that seemed to start all of our sexual encounters did not seem to hinder the situation. leaning in for a cuddle I stayed strong and held my ground telling myself not to give in. I knew that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb would have a field day if they knew my Ex was even within two-metres of my sofa let alone pinning me down on it with snuggles. Slowly I felt a hand on my arse.
"Are you trying to seduce me Mr. Cheese?" I asked in a deep, coyly sexy voice reserved for only special occasions. I was greeted with an equally deep and husky answer. Being told that it was false of habit only made the resisting that much harder and after some more breathy, wanting phrases we were naked and having the most passionate, hot afternoon sex that I can ever remember having. Taking it to the bedroom for a little nap I curled up in his arms like we used to do. Just before I drifted off into a relaxed and tension-less slumber I heard a whisper.
"You know when you left mine last Sunday. Well when I went to bed that night I could smell you in the bedsheets. It made me think of you. I've missed you." Said my Ex quietly. Thinking about what he had said and all the wonderful things we had made me question yet again why I was calling him and Ex. Snoozing most of what was left of the day away Mr. Cheese made damn well sure I didn't forget the last time as he brought me as close to an orgasm as I think I have ever had. Shaking and trembling I could tell that he was breathing in as much enjoyment as I was giving out. Shuddering to a climax I couldn't help but take him again as I climbed on top to go once more!
As the evening set in I prepared for the weekend festival-ing and packed my bags with minimal effort compared to my friends whom I was in constant contact with right up until the early hours. In between cramming in extra pants and the odd hopeful condom I chatted away about what I was taking and how I was packing it all. Panicking we called it a night and headed to bed, my best friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in the hope that the festival fairy would come along in the middle of the night and pack their rucksacks. After waking the following morning the hours seemed to just melted away and before long it was time to set sail for Reading Festival 2014!
At four-am I was up. Curling my freshly dyed hair would take time. Sleeping at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the night before was a god send and having the bathroom space and areas to get all three of us ready was bliss. As I tip-toed around the family home I had hung out in as a teenager I made sure I looked as festival ready as I could. Crowning my head with an over-the-top flower garland I joined my girls out in the cold dawn to pack the car and head out on the open road. Whizzing down the motorway and bumbling along the roads into the outskirts of London we followed the signs for the festival camps. As stewards showed us where to park and unload we braced ourselves for the trek of a lifetime to where we would eventually call home for the next five days. In doing so we joined the longest line that there ever was in living history but thanked ourselves we had made the effort to get up early to land ourselves a great spot.
Pitching the tent towards the back of the White camp we noticed that it just so happened to be a prime area for boys to urinate and so we dubbed any lone male with his trousers a little bit slacked towards the waste as being on Willie Watch. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee got involved once or twice. Finally relaxing after a very, very long trip to the local Tesco to pick up beer and other food supplies such as Snickers and Chewee's, we took time to reflect on the important things in life. Like which one of us would we Fuck, Marry or Kill and of which one of my ex-boyfriends I would rather my best friend marries or sleeps with. As lad-like as the conversation was it would have never topped some of our neighbours, of which one of them was called Tuggy. We never found out why he was given this unfortunate nick-name but we all had our suspicions as to what may have caused it.
As tired as we were we still managed to make it to the man arena area where we collected our wristbands and checked out some of the stalls and huts offering over-priced festival tat which I would probably given half a chance bought all of. Returning to our camp the Girls stopped off at a eatery for some food whilst I perched on a wooden bench. Yawning wide as I looked at my watch realising it was still mildly early a young women walked up to me and ordered me to stop yawning telling me it was a festival and to 'get on it'. Out of no-where a ginger gentleman also sat down next to her and we began talking about who we were most looking forward to seeing out of the acts to headline and where we were all from. A few moments later Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb walked passed and I agreed to meet them back at the tent after my conversation with my new friends. Accent confirming that they were from the South Coast I probed further into their location. After explaining that they were from a little village outside of Exeter I felt a twinge of sadness as my mind harped back to days of Mr. Cheese and plans to visit Exeter with him. Changing the subject I asked their names. The guy offered up his name first and I struggled to contain a smirk as he shared the same Christian name as my ex Mr. Workaholic and another guy I went on a date with once (The date in question was awful and was something to never bring up again. Ever.). As the night closed in we partied in the bar and I threw myself into the festival spirit ending up dancing with strangers and adding people on Facebook I will never see again. Turning in for the night I felt that my new ginger friend was asking me back to his tent in a very forward yet round about way. Knowing that he was younger than my brother I declined and headed to my canvass home, stumbling in and rousing everyone in doing so.
The rest of the weekend seemed to speed right pasted us all in a blur of drinking games, cider and music. Going to the arena everyday I saw some amazing acts including Arctic Monkeys, Paramore, Sigma, AndyC, Don Broco, Enter Shikari, You Me At Six, Twin Atlantic, Tonight Alive, Duke Dumont, Blink 182, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Jake Bugg and so many brilliant others. And whilst Jake Bugg was emotional to watch and hear, given the connotations and memories of Mr. Cheese it brought me but all in all, such a cracker of a weekend and all spent with my best friends. Its funny they did try to monitor (As they always do) the content of my writing in the Blog but I told them that the memories we share are the best any human could wish for from friends.
Admittedly there are things I wouldn't share with you guys, like stories of human defecation and tales of falling in country potholes but I wouldn't have my friends any other way. As a few artists rocked out on the huge stages that swamped the fields of Berkshire I gazed on at them with pride. I was proud to have two best friends that were so diverse in opinion, honesty, humour, sexual preference, personality, judgement and individuality that I don't think that even the Queen herself (Whom Miss Tweedle-Dee has innate fear of) could have chosen a better network of friendship as my two Girls. Over the pasted decade I have not listened to them on many occasions although I hope they know that throughout everything they are the best thing I have in my life and all that is worth sharing is better when it is shared with them.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Tent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tent. Show all posts
Monday, 25 August 2014
Monday, 14 July 2014
Let The Dating Game Commence!
Evening everyone,
Slowly drifting I peeked through my eyelashes into the bright sunshine. Mmm, the heat was wonderful and I had forgotten how I had missed snuggling up after a long, tiring day at work. With a low hum in the background I closed my eyes again as we swayed together, the heat between us making me evermore happier. And whilst it was a comforting bus journey home this evening, cuddled up at the back of the bus, being driven home by the warmth of the engine and hugging onto the inner wheel arches, it was another thing I had tried in order to replace a man in my life. Note to self: Buses whilst are able to get me to work and back are unreliable, unappreciative and most of all I can't hug them without looking like a lunatic. Nevertheless this week has been a success after the feminist movement of last week the 'Vagina Crusade' is still on and the hunt for a mate continues.
After talking with several gentlemen on a little known dating application called Tinder I was asked out on a date. After speaking for a few days and swapping all social media platforms we agreed to meet for a drink in a local bar. Something casual with not much behind it will be perfect for a first date, nothing to hard or effort educing. A few days later I was on my journey home from work and messaged him about meeting. Cancelled! Apparently work had called him in to do a shift early the next day somewhere in Hertfordshire and so date night was postponed until the following evening. Friday rolled around and not making much effort with the outfit to work I had a funny feeling something would go Pete Tong tonight too. And what an intuition I have. After trying to message my potential date all evening he replied with the lame excuse that his friend had been moved to Singlesville too and needed cheering up. Suggesting a later time to meet was met with no response at all and with twenty minutes to go until we were due to meet I called it off assuming that nothing was going to come to fruition. As it turns out I got blow off for a lads night in drinking and popping moves like they think they're Jason Derulo. Sorry boys but your not. Your just not!
Feeling deflated after being stood-up I needed some comfort and a confidence boost. Since there was no chocolate to be had in my flat other than on a digestive I decided to look elsewhere. Knowing in my heart I shouldn't seek comfort in the shallowness of swiping left or right I ignored all that and did it anyway, continuing to Tinder for the rest of the night, humming and harrahing as to whether or not a first date round a guys 'free house' is such a good idea. I have always said to myself that I will never venture into dangerous waters such as that until at least the third or fourth date. Some of the lads I have spoken to have been dicks and some have seemed quite genuine. I just hope that maybe I can get my head around not looking at everyone of them in comparison to Mr. Cheese. On which note, I had a message from him the other day. Quite unexpected.
After hearing the sad news on Thursday that an elderly family friend whom I haven't seen in year had passed away I was shocked. Stunned into my office chair. At first I got ready to breath a sigh of relief thinking it was something much less morbid in nature, but as it turned out I was really affected. I had to steal a moment to myself in the kitchen under the pretence of making tea just to let my brain process the fact that not only had someone close to me passed away, but that within the next fortnight perhaps I shall be forced to share the same personal space as the very women I despise - My Mother. Sounds awful but I honestly don't know which one is worse. The family friend was what I referred to as an Auntie in my younger years and whilst part of the family she was a strong women whom held her ground and stood up and by what she believed in, including me. I was only seventeen but she knew that I was telling her the truth when I told her the tale of being thrown out by my mother. Shocked and appalled like most she offered me sympathy and a ear when I needed it most and for that I am grateful. A few days later I received a personal message from Mr. Cheese offering support and a shoulder to cry on. It was sweet what he had said and nice to know that he was thinking about me, but all I really wanted wasn't just a shoulder to cry on.
I wasn't to be sad for too long as midday on Saturday soon arrived and as the warm summer called my Nan and I outside we sat in a quaint little cafe sipping on tea and coffee chatting about all life's problems although mainly boys and how I should deal with life now as a bachelorette. Much advice was given and it was needed for I had already lined myself up another date with a new man for Sunday afternoon. But before all of that could happen I had an even more important date to keep to. Reading Festival Run-Thru - Mark Two!
Discussions took place between myself and the Tweedles via email about the pro's and con's of having a camp out in Miss Tweedle-Dumb's garden when there was due to be a torrential down pour that evening. My case was a valid one and that no matter what the weather come the Bank Holiday Weekend at the end of August we would have to put up and sleep in a tent for several nights. I feel that whilst my friends would much rather snuggle with the dogs on the sofa, they couldn't deny that as normal, I was right! And setting up this time was not nearly half as bad or strenuous as first thought. The tent was up within half hour and by the time we had pumped up our air-beds and secured the guide-ropes Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were being egged on by a mischievous Miss Tweedle-Dee to have a dance off on the patio. Suffice to say that after several cocktails and a cider I was very much a drunken mess. Attempts to play swing-ball was next on our list of fun things to do whilst drunk. Between pants and gasps I felt as if I was either in the finals of Wimbledon or doing the voice over for a OTT porno, although by that point in the evening it was most likely to be the latter one. And so the night was rounded off once and for all with being chased by imaginary scary noises whilst trying to Alfresco Pee and having potatoes thrown at our tent by Miss Tweedle-Dumb's sister.
Bleary eyed we awoke the next morning, my tent pals had slept better than I had but only for fear of being rained on. Nevertheless a morning brew and ashtray were brought to our makeshift bedsides by an attentive Miss Tweedle-Dumb and thus commenced our Sunday. Packing the tent away was not hard either, and within the space of fifteen minutes out pop-up home had been wiped down from the rain drops and packaged away inside its little bag until the next time we need him. Changing and having a quick wash we all headed back to our own homes, but for me it was home to prepare for my first date of the year. And so, strolling down the street I definitely had my swag on. I felt amazing and with my new found favourite band (5SOS) playing in my ears I knew I was shit hot. Or at least I would have liked to think so anyway. As I turned into the street and saw the signed swinging in the cool afternoon air I told myself that I could still turn around and go home if I didn't want too. Grappling with nerves I approached the coffee house. I knew it well. It was the last stop on mine and Mr. Cheese's journey before heading to Darlington over Christmas and more recently the place I had purchased ground coffee for Pappa Cheese's birthday present, much to his delight. Indeed this little coffee shop on the High Street held very fond but bitter memories for me. I wished they could be different but they are not, and that is why I am here. Walking into Caffe Crema to meet a man I barely know. Strutting to the back of the establishment in no less than a pair of heels, pleated PVC skirt and sweatshirt I felt the nerves subside as I greeted my date; The ironically named - Mr. Moustache.
Mr. Moustache was a tall and stocky blonde with blue eyes, not quite what I expected but then can you ever trust Internet dating? As soon as I walked in I stole his attention from his phone, a luxury Mr. Cheese rarely paid me. As I approached the little table I glanced to where ghosts of days gone by had excitedly chattered amongst wrapped up presents and about the coming days of yule-tide festivities that were to come. Shaking them off I was greeted and then seated. Parched I offered to buy Mr. Moustache another drink, despite seeing that he had only just arrived himself. Declining, I went to the counter to order a coffee frappachino. Starbucks it was not but better than something hot. Seating myself once more, Mr. Moustache commented on how surreal it all was. Was I that fabulous? Is it now an honour to be in my company? Apparently so! Quick someone call the Queen I need to be knighted!
Conversation flowing we questioned each others lives and hobbies. I found out that he works in health care and lives alone too which was a relief as you tend to go a bit nuts when you live alone as a Singleton! We posed questions about our favourite biscuits and what we like to watch on TV. He seemed to be on same shelf as me but I'm not so sure about the same book or page however. Desperately trying not to judge or compare, Mr. Moustache had the long run-your-fingers-through hair I always want. Teeth were fairly good too and his eyes were wide and full of wonder at our conversions. Noticing the sandals I was immediately turned off anything romantic, although oddly in a way the slogan Tee and bright Hawaiian shirt may have made up in part for one of the Big Four being let down. Mr. Moustache was funny and made me laugh with hilarious stories from his travels around the world. He had ventured to Asia on a gap year from life and whilst there had experienced nude bathing with friends and lots of Chinese Mafia, being asked to have his photo taken just because he was a tall white male from the West and even accidentally marrying a Japanese prostitute. And to think that I would never meet my match in terms of being a raconteur! I too pulled out all my best stories - That time Miss Tweedle-Dumb made a Aloe Vera butter angel on the floor of our holiday apartment whilst very drunk from an evening at a Scottish bar in Fuerteventura, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her blister bags as a result of getting badly sun burnt, also in Fuerteventura; And who can forget that ever-lasting tale of Mr. Workaholic and his 'bearded' experience.
As the afternoon turned into early evening I decided to call it a day and head home - Alone! The exit was odd as we ended up walking the same way and when we did come to the departure I felt an uneasy as Mr. Moustache leaned in for a hug goodbye and maybe something more. Unfortunately it was a first date and I didn't really fancy him that much. I mean he was attractive don't get me wrong, but I was still airing on the side of caution. I wasn't sure about this one yet and didn't want to jump before I knew what into. Mr. Moustache was lovely though and despite us not talking since I feel that as far as first dates go, it went well. With a few more lined up for the coming weeks I am sure we I will have plenty more tales to tell you all, I just need to be sure that I don't fall as hard as I did last time ...
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Slowly drifting I peeked through my eyelashes into the bright sunshine. Mmm, the heat was wonderful and I had forgotten how I had missed snuggling up after a long, tiring day at work. With a low hum in the background I closed my eyes again as we swayed together, the heat between us making me evermore happier. And whilst it was a comforting bus journey home this evening, cuddled up at the back of the bus, being driven home by the warmth of the engine and hugging onto the inner wheel arches, it was another thing I had tried in order to replace a man in my life. Note to self: Buses whilst are able to get me to work and back are unreliable, unappreciative and most of all I can't hug them without looking like a lunatic. Nevertheless this week has been a success after the feminist movement of last week the 'Vagina Crusade' is still on and the hunt for a mate continues.
After talking with several gentlemen on a little known dating application called Tinder I was asked out on a date. After speaking for a few days and swapping all social media platforms we agreed to meet for a drink in a local bar. Something casual with not much behind it will be perfect for a first date, nothing to hard or effort educing. A few days later I was on my journey home from work and messaged him about meeting. Cancelled! Apparently work had called him in to do a shift early the next day somewhere in Hertfordshire and so date night was postponed until the following evening. Friday rolled around and not making much effort with the outfit to work I had a funny feeling something would go Pete Tong tonight too. And what an intuition I have. After trying to message my potential date all evening he replied with the lame excuse that his friend had been moved to Singlesville too and needed cheering up. Suggesting a later time to meet was met with no response at all and with twenty minutes to go until we were due to meet I called it off assuming that nothing was going to come to fruition. As it turns out I got blow off for a lads night in drinking and popping moves like they think they're Jason Derulo. Sorry boys but your not. Your just not!
Feeling deflated after being stood-up I needed some comfort and a confidence boost. Since there was no chocolate to be had in my flat other than on a digestive I decided to look elsewhere. Knowing in my heart I shouldn't seek comfort in the shallowness of swiping left or right I ignored all that and did it anyway, continuing to Tinder for the rest of the night, humming and harrahing as to whether or not a first date round a guys 'free house' is such a good idea. I have always said to myself that I will never venture into dangerous waters such as that until at least the third or fourth date. Some of the lads I have spoken to have been dicks and some have seemed quite genuine. I just hope that maybe I can get my head around not looking at everyone of them in comparison to Mr. Cheese. On which note, I had a message from him the other day. Quite unexpected.
After hearing the sad news on Thursday that an elderly family friend whom I haven't seen in year had passed away I was shocked. Stunned into my office chair. At first I got ready to breath a sigh of relief thinking it was something much less morbid in nature, but as it turned out I was really affected. I had to steal a moment to myself in the kitchen under the pretence of making tea just to let my brain process the fact that not only had someone close to me passed away, but that within the next fortnight perhaps I shall be forced to share the same personal space as the very women I despise - My Mother. Sounds awful but I honestly don't know which one is worse. The family friend was what I referred to as an Auntie in my younger years and whilst part of the family she was a strong women whom held her ground and stood up and by what she believed in, including me. I was only seventeen but she knew that I was telling her the truth when I told her the tale of being thrown out by my mother. Shocked and appalled like most she offered me sympathy and a ear when I needed it most and for that I am grateful. A few days later I received a personal message from Mr. Cheese offering support and a shoulder to cry on. It was sweet what he had said and nice to know that he was thinking about me, but all I really wanted wasn't just a shoulder to cry on.
I wasn't to be sad for too long as midday on Saturday soon arrived and as the warm summer called my Nan and I outside we sat in a quaint little cafe sipping on tea and coffee chatting about all life's problems although mainly boys and how I should deal with life now as a bachelorette. Much advice was given and it was needed for I had already lined myself up another date with a new man for Sunday afternoon. But before all of that could happen I had an even more important date to keep to. Reading Festival Run-Thru - Mark Two!
Discussions took place between myself and the Tweedles via email about the pro's and con's of having a camp out in Miss Tweedle-Dumb's garden when there was due to be a torrential down pour that evening. My case was a valid one and that no matter what the weather come the Bank Holiday Weekend at the end of August we would have to put up and sleep in a tent for several nights. I feel that whilst my friends would much rather snuggle with the dogs on the sofa, they couldn't deny that as normal, I was right! And setting up this time was not nearly half as bad or strenuous as first thought. The tent was up within half hour and by the time we had pumped up our air-beds and secured the guide-ropes Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were being egged on by a mischievous Miss Tweedle-Dee to have a dance off on the patio. Suffice to say that after several cocktails and a cider I was very much a drunken mess. Attempts to play swing-ball was next on our list of fun things to do whilst drunk. Between pants and gasps I felt as if I was either in the finals of Wimbledon or doing the voice over for a OTT porno, although by that point in the evening it was most likely to be the latter one. And so the night was rounded off once and for all with being chased by imaginary scary noises whilst trying to Alfresco Pee and having potatoes thrown at our tent by Miss Tweedle-Dumb's sister.
Bleary eyed we awoke the next morning, my tent pals had slept better than I had but only for fear of being rained on. Nevertheless a morning brew and ashtray were brought to our makeshift bedsides by an attentive Miss Tweedle-Dumb and thus commenced our Sunday. Packing the tent away was not hard either, and within the space of fifteen minutes out pop-up home had been wiped down from the rain drops and packaged away inside its little bag until the next time we need him. Changing and having a quick wash we all headed back to our own homes, but for me it was home to prepare for my first date of the year. And so, strolling down the street I definitely had my swag on. I felt amazing and with my new found favourite band (5SOS) playing in my ears I knew I was shit hot. Or at least I would have liked to think so anyway. As I turned into the street and saw the signed swinging in the cool afternoon air I told myself that I could still turn around and go home if I didn't want too. Grappling with nerves I approached the coffee house. I knew it well. It was the last stop on mine and Mr. Cheese's journey before heading to Darlington over Christmas and more recently the place I had purchased ground coffee for Pappa Cheese's birthday present, much to his delight. Indeed this little coffee shop on the High Street held very fond but bitter memories for me. I wished they could be different but they are not, and that is why I am here. Walking into Caffe Crema to meet a man I barely know. Strutting to the back of the establishment in no less than a pair of heels, pleated PVC skirt and sweatshirt I felt the nerves subside as I greeted my date; The ironically named - Mr. Moustache.
Mr. Moustache was a tall and stocky blonde with blue eyes, not quite what I expected but then can you ever trust Internet dating? As soon as I walked in I stole his attention from his phone, a luxury Mr. Cheese rarely paid me. As I approached the little table I glanced to where ghosts of days gone by had excitedly chattered amongst wrapped up presents and about the coming days of yule-tide festivities that were to come. Shaking them off I was greeted and then seated. Parched I offered to buy Mr. Moustache another drink, despite seeing that he had only just arrived himself. Declining, I went to the counter to order a coffee frappachino. Starbucks it was not but better than something hot. Seating myself once more, Mr. Moustache commented on how surreal it all was. Was I that fabulous? Is it now an honour to be in my company? Apparently so! Quick someone call the Queen I need to be knighted!
Conversation flowing we questioned each others lives and hobbies. I found out that he works in health care and lives alone too which was a relief as you tend to go a bit nuts when you live alone as a Singleton! We posed questions about our favourite biscuits and what we like to watch on TV. He seemed to be on same shelf as me but I'm not so sure about the same book or page however. Desperately trying not to judge or compare, Mr. Moustache had the long run-your-fingers-through hair I always want. Teeth were fairly good too and his eyes were wide and full of wonder at our conversions. Noticing the sandals I was immediately turned off anything romantic, although oddly in a way the slogan Tee and bright Hawaiian shirt may have made up in part for one of the Big Four being let down. Mr. Moustache was funny and made me laugh with hilarious stories from his travels around the world. He had ventured to Asia on a gap year from life and whilst there had experienced nude bathing with friends and lots of Chinese Mafia, being asked to have his photo taken just because he was a tall white male from the West and even accidentally marrying a Japanese prostitute. And to think that I would never meet my match in terms of being a raconteur! I too pulled out all my best stories - That time Miss Tweedle-Dumb made a Aloe Vera butter angel on the floor of our holiday apartment whilst very drunk from an evening at a Scottish bar in Fuerteventura, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her blister bags as a result of getting badly sun burnt, also in Fuerteventura; And who can forget that ever-lasting tale of Mr. Workaholic and his 'bearded' experience.
As the afternoon turned into early evening I decided to call it a day and head home - Alone! The exit was odd as we ended up walking the same way and when we did come to the departure I felt an uneasy as Mr. Moustache leaned in for a hug goodbye and maybe something more. Unfortunately it was a first date and I didn't really fancy him that much. I mean he was attractive don't get me wrong, but I was still airing on the side of caution. I wasn't sure about this one yet and didn't want to jump before I knew what into. Mr. Moustache was lovely though and despite us not talking since I feel that as far as first dates go, it went well. With a few more lined up for the coming weeks I am sure we I will have plenty more tales to tell you all, I just need to be sure that I don't fall as hard as I did last time ...
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 23 June 2014
The Significance Of A Role Mat
Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx
Hello There,
Finishing a long and uneventful week at work I donned some orange lippy and made my way out into the thick warm air of a late Friday afternoon in June. This is not like Britain I thought to myself as usually June is a rainy month whereby we are reaching for the wellies not the wayfarers - Uh I love a good pair of wayfarers! Any way. The reasons for my summery ensemble was due to the fact I was off to the Henlow Dog Races with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little sister, who really is not so little any more at the ripe old age of eighteen.
Arriving at the racecourse parched and promptly on time in fact early, which is odd for me, I waited for the little blue bubble car to speed round the corners of the Bedfordshire countryside. Soon enough there it was, best friend at the wheel with her passengers waving eagerly. Excited I skipped over to where they were parked, nearly falling over on the gravel in my long orange skirt. Welcoming them and striking up conversation I sensed that a long week had finally come to an end for all of us and the luxury of the weekend was finally upon us, if you can call our plans for the weekend anything but luxurious! Settling down with our race cards and bets placed we watched as the svelte greyhounds whizzed round the tracks chasing after an unconvincing looking Hare wearing what appeared to be either an eighties styled bomber jacket or just a Hi-Vis work men's vest. Laughing away at inside jokes and the other people around us I felt somewhat uneasy given the last time we had all been together under my intervention. Nevertheless I put the thought to the back of my mind and did what I do best, smile and pretend that I'm not at least a little bit lost inside. I thought to myself as we stood beside amorous couples that Dog racing would be a good idea for a date; Maybe not the first date, but maybe a second. The thrill of the pounding paws, the yells and screams from betters and handlers alike, the celebratory hugs and kisses and the commiserating cuddles would be the perfect way to get just that little bit closer to them. Hmmm ...
Finishing the night overall with a win of under a tenner between the four of us we headed home, pockets empty and sides stitched from laughing. Saturday morning I made my way to Leagrave where I met up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and after briefly stopping by at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we headed out to lunch. Pulling into Buddies we were all looking forward to engorging ourselves on towered-high burgers and sticky BBQ ribs. And we were not to be disappointed. On entering the establishment I noted of the all-American diner paraphernalia mimicking that of a 1950's roadside stop along Route 66. My thoughts couldn't help but turn to the Vegas trip I was never invited on and how I wish that whilst I plan to save in time to go, I still will never know if I was really ever fully invited. Nevertheless, we were soon greeted by a young waitress who showed us to our table which happened to be across from a first date with a difference. These first-dater's were not in their 20's or 30's, not even in their 70's or 80's. They were probably not even eleven and with the accompaniment of their watchful mothers on the other side of the eatery they were engaging in their first experiences of the dating scene. Eyes glazing over as I watched them from the corner of my vision, I pandered as to how simple it all was and how I longed for the simplicity in my own love-life.
Hunger avenged Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I, so after scanning the menu as we had all week at our desks we ordered the recommended ribs and a burger each. Three burgers, two cheesy chips and a soda float later we were ready for our beds. But we had to buy them first. Yes! Myself and the Tweedles had come to the conclusion that if we plan to scrap our annual debauchery that is our Summer Holiday and brave the bog that is Reading Festival 2014 then we should probably get familiar with our home for those five days. After purchasing a tent earlier in the week all we needed to do was put it up and fill it. Easier said that done I can tell you. We finally finally left Buddies and headed to the shops narrowly avoiding Miss Tweedle-Dumb's attempts to throw up that heart attack lunch of a sugared-ring-doughnut-burger-hold-the-lettuce. Racing through the aisles I had no idea what the rush was. The I knew. The shopping list that I had compiled was now unachievable due to the lack of stock. I needed a role mat (Although I am not quite sure why I bought one that was so thin I could pretty much make sushi out of) and a camping chair and a sleeping bag. I chose not to buy a chair for I know I could probably find one cheaper online, however the sleeping bag situation was voided as there was only two left and guess who got there first! And so as I arrived at the check-out, friends spiting my lack of purchases I bought a role mat that I knew would be useless and some confectionery that added up to more than the foamy bed itself. I think I knew then what sort of night I was in for I just didn't realise how much of a night it would really be. Flopping onto the sofa at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we watched some trash TV until the weather had cooled slightly enough that we could put the tent up easier. More than an hour and a half later and we had finally erected our abode, although the occupancy of bugs and creepy crawlies was not appreciated. David Attenborough we are not, so take your six legs and exoskeleton bodies to the outside of our blue villa of canvas and be gone! Note to self: BUY BUG SPRAY!
Due to my late night the previous evening and succession of late evenings prior to that I slowly slipped into a slumber on the black stickiness that is a leather sofa in the lounge of Miss Tweedle-Dee's front room. However this was not to last as Miss Tweedle-Dumb thought that it would be a good idea to spank me awake! Aha yes, the wonders of a girlie sleepover! After abruptly waking me we proceeded to order some food only to discover that when the man arrived with my chicken, chips and sauce that he refused to give me the right change. Standing there on the doorstep of a house I had known all my life, wearing a jumper loaned to me by the occupier of such premises I continued to row with the delivery driver regarding the one, singular English pound he owed me. I did not get it and was told to consult my on-line booking of said order. Slamming the door and now in an increased fowl mood from being woken to not being given my money back, I called the takeaway company to have a pop. I was told that someone would deliver my change right away and that the duty manager would call me back the following day. I did not receive my Great British Pound and it is safe to say that more that forty-eight hours on, I shall not be getting a phone call back from the duty manager either. Tired and full of chicken and chips, myself and the girls prepared for bedding down in the tent. After nearly coming to blows with Miss Tweedle-Dee regarding my pungent pumps I climbed into my pod like a bear with a sore head. Thinking it would be a good idea, Miss Tweedle-Dee decided that the wilderness of a back yard in Dunstable was the place to start telling ghost stories. I recalled an event in Miss Tweedle-Dee's brother's house a few years back after Mr. Workaholic and I separated whereby my feet were held by an unknown entity and in turn made them flash freezing cold then burn constantly red hot. An odd occurrence for most, but I have always felt as if there is something there watching over me or with me. Maybe not all the time but sometimes she will be made known. I say she as I get the impression she is an old lady who just wants to have a little fun with the living. I humour her sometimes although I wish she would use some of her special spooky skills to make better my lactose situations of late.
After a restless nights sleep I awoke with some odd flashing memoirs of a unicorn yelling about mildew as a dark figure tried to get to the toilet without wetting themselves. Turns out that it was just Miss Tweedle-Dumb wearing her Unicorn onesie and Miss Tweedle-Dee screaming about the condensation build-up preventing her to making it to Brown-Town. Oh what a fun night we had in our tent of dreams! Safe to say that sitting in the blistering heat of a Sunday afternoon, sipping on wine and munching on juicy black cherries we needed to make some improvements to our up coming festival experience. So what have we learnt this weekend; Air beds are now mandatory, tents are best put up by girls not boys and never trust a man from a chicken shop when he says he will come back with your change!
This weekend also taught me other things too. I now understand that things are never great and that sometimes the ground in which you lay is rough and bumpy and hard. You have to try out the role mats in life before you make improvements and as humans that's just how we learn. So maybe the same can be applied when meeting with Mr. Cheese on Wednesday this week. And yes, there is a very good reason I have not mentioned him in this week's post up until now. Things are detrimental and I am struggling to cling onto the last shred of what we have left. I shall not say too much and ruin what has been an enjoyable evening writing to you all but for now I'm holding my head above the water and staving off that all too familiar sickening feeling knowing that with every hour that ticks by I await the fate of my relationship that is swinging terrifyingly in the balance ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hello There,
Finishing a long and uneventful week at work I donned some orange lippy and made my way out into the thick warm air of a late Friday afternoon in June. This is not like Britain I thought to myself as usually June is a rainy month whereby we are reaching for the wellies not the wayfarers - Uh I love a good pair of wayfarers! Any way. The reasons for my summery ensemble was due to the fact I was off to the Henlow Dog Races with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little sister, who really is not so little any more at the ripe old age of eighteen.
Arriving at the racecourse parched and promptly on time in fact early, which is odd for me, I waited for the little blue bubble car to speed round the corners of the Bedfordshire countryside. Soon enough there it was, best friend at the wheel with her passengers waving eagerly. Excited I skipped over to where they were parked, nearly falling over on the gravel in my long orange skirt. Welcoming them and striking up conversation I sensed that a long week had finally come to an end for all of us and the luxury of the weekend was finally upon us, if you can call our plans for the weekend anything but luxurious! Settling down with our race cards and bets placed we watched as the svelte greyhounds whizzed round the tracks chasing after an unconvincing looking Hare wearing what appeared to be either an eighties styled bomber jacket or just a Hi-Vis work men's vest. Laughing away at inside jokes and the other people around us I felt somewhat uneasy given the last time we had all been together under my intervention. Nevertheless I put the thought to the back of my mind and did what I do best, smile and pretend that I'm not at least a little bit lost inside. I thought to myself as we stood beside amorous couples that Dog racing would be a good idea for a date; Maybe not the first date, but maybe a second. The thrill of the pounding paws, the yells and screams from betters and handlers alike, the celebratory hugs and kisses and the commiserating cuddles would be the perfect way to get just that little bit closer to them. Hmmm ...
Finishing the night overall with a win of under a tenner between the four of us we headed home, pockets empty and sides stitched from laughing. Saturday morning I made my way to Leagrave where I met up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and after briefly stopping by at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we headed out to lunch. Pulling into Buddies we were all looking forward to engorging ourselves on towered-high burgers and sticky BBQ ribs. And we were not to be disappointed. On entering the establishment I noted of the all-American diner paraphernalia mimicking that of a 1950's roadside stop along Route 66. My thoughts couldn't help but turn to the Vegas trip I was never invited on and how I wish that whilst I plan to save in time to go, I still will never know if I was really ever fully invited. Nevertheless, we were soon greeted by a young waitress who showed us to our table which happened to be across from a first date with a difference. These first-dater's were not in their 20's or 30's, not even in their 70's or 80's. They were probably not even eleven and with the accompaniment of their watchful mothers on the other side of the eatery they were engaging in their first experiences of the dating scene. Eyes glazing over as I watched them from the corner of my vision, I pandered as to how simple it all was and how I longed for the simplicity in my own love-life.
Hunger avenged Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I, so after scanning the menu as we had all week at our desks we ordered the recommended ribs and a burger each. Three burgers, two cheesy chips and a soda float later we were ready for our beds. But we had to buy them first. Yes! Myself and the Tweedles had come to the conclusion that if we plan to scrap our annual debauchery that is our Summer Holiday and brave the bog that is Reading Festival 2014 then we should probably get familiar with our home for those five days. After purchasing a tent earlier in the week all we needed to do was put it up and fill it. Easier said that done I can tell you. We finally finally left Buddies and headed to the shops narrowly avoiding Miss Tweedle-Dumb's attempts to throw up that heart attack lunch of a sugared-ring-doughnut-burger-hold-the-lettuce. Racing through the aisles I had no idea what the rush was. The I knew. The shopping list that I had compiled was now unachievable due to the lack of stock. I needed a role mat (Although I am not quite sure why I bought one that was so thin I could pretty much make sushi out of) and a camping chair and a sleeping bag. I chose not to buy a chair for I know I could probably find one cheaper online, however the sleeping bag situation was voided as there was only two left and guess who got there first! And so as I arrived at the check-out, friends spiting my lack of purchases I bought a role mat that I knew would be useless and some confectionery that added up to more than the foamy bed itself. I think I knew then what sort of night I was in for I just didn't realise how much of a night it would really be. Flopping onto the sofa at Miss Tweedle-Dee's house we watched some trash TV until the weather had cooled slightly enough that we could put the tent up easier. More than an hour and a half later and we had finally erected our abode, although the occupancy of bugs and creepy crawlies was not appreciated. David Attenborough we are not, so take your six legs and exoskeleton bodies to the outside of our blue villa of canvas and be gone! Note to self: BUY BUG SPRAY!
Due to my late night the previous evening and succession of late evenings prior to that I slowly slipped into a slumber on the black stickiness that is a leather sofa in the lounge of Miss Tweedle-Dee's front room. However this was not to last as Miss Tweedle-Dumb thought that it would be a good idea to spank me awake! Aha yes, the wonders of a girlie sleepover! After abruptly waking me we proceeded to order some food only to discover that when the man arrived with my chicken, chips and sauce that he refused to give me the right change. Standing there on the doorstep of a house I had known all my life, wearing a jumper loaned to me by the occupier of such premises I continued to row with the delivery driver regarding the one, singular English pound he owed me. I did not get it and was told to consult my on-line booking of said order. Slamming the door and now in an increased fowl mood from being woken to not being given my money back, I called the takeaway company to have a pop. I was told that someone would deliver my change right away and that the duty manager would call me back the following day. I did not receive my Great British Pound and it is safe to say that more that forty-eight hours on, I shall not be getting a phone call back from the duty manager either. Tired and full of chicken and chips, myself and the girls prepared for bedding down in the tent. After nearly coming to blows with Miss Tweedle-Dee regarding my pungent pumps I climbed into my pod like a bear with a sore head. Thinking it would be a good idea, Miss Tweedle-Dee decided that the wilderness of a back yard in Dunstable was the place to start telling ghost stories. I recalled an event in Miss Tweedle-Dee's brother's house a few years back after Mr. Workaholic and I separated whereby my feet were held by an unknown entity and in turn made them flash freezing cold then burn constantly red hot. An odd occurrence for most, but I have always felt as if there is something there watching over me or with me. Maybe not all the time but sometimes she will be made known. I say she as I get the impression she is an old lady who just wants to have a little fun with the living. I humour her sometimes although I wish she would use some of her special spooky skills to make better my lactose situations of late.
After a restless nights sleep I awoke with some odd flashing memoirs of a unicorn yelling about mildew as a dark figure tried to get to the toilet without wetting themselves. Turns out that it was just Miss Tweedle-Dumb wearing her Unicorn onesie and Miss Tweedle-Dee screaming about the condensation build-up preventing her to making it to Brown-Town. Oh what a fun night we had in our tent of dreams! Safe to say that sitting in the blistering heat of a Sunday afternoon, sipping on wine and munching on juicy black cherries we needed to make some improvements to our up coming festival experience. So what have we learnt this weekend; Air beds are now mandatory, tents are best put up by girls not boys and never trust a man from a chicken shop when he says he will come back with your change!
This weekend also taught me other things too. I now understand that things are never great and that sometimes the ground in which you lay is rough and bumpy and hard. You have to try out the role mats in life before you make improvements and as humans that's just how we learn. So maybe the same can be applied when meeting with Mr. Cheese on Wednesday this week. And yes, there is a very good reason I have not mentioned him in this week's post up until now. Things are detrimental and I am struggling to cling onto the last shred of what we have left. I shall not say too much and ruin what has been an enjoyable evening writing to you all but for now I'm holding my head above the water and staving off that all too familiar sickening feeling knowing that with every hour that ticks by I await the fate of my relationship that is swinging terrifyingly in the balance ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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