Thankful for Everything - Tangible or not!

Good Tidings MonAmie, 

Hearing my phone going berserk with its Christmas ring-tone I leaped from my bed to answer it but as I placed it to my ear I heard a familiar voice that sprung my slumbering eyes wide open. It was Christmas Eve and the manly voice on the end of the phone was my Boss. I was fully naked with not a stitch on me, blinds open, bag barely packed for staying at my Dad's and Mr. Warehouse's over Christmas and to top it all off I was due to start work in eleven-minutes. Good thing my Boss had called then, only problem was that he was currently a few streets away trying to find my flat and as a result would be turning up very, very shortly. Snatching at a cringe-worthy Christmas Jumper, jeans and some pants I struggled them on all whilst talking to my Boss and explaining that it didn't matter he was running late, I was just waiting patiently watching the news. Seeing him pull up outside my ground floor flat I knew I didn't have long to grab a few things, sling them in my mini-case and head out the door, not forgetting the lemon cake I had made especially for Christmas-Eve-do-fuck-all-at-work-day. Loading myself into the vehicle I tried not to make eye contact for I was yet to do my make-up and had only just thrown my hair into a messy bun - The stylish 'do for anyone who has a similar time keeping schedule as the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. 

Face made up in the harsh bathroom light of the office I headed to my desk wishing Merry Christmas to all whom I met along the way. After a few hours of milling around trying to look as busy we were all told to log off and head home for the Holidays. Although as what seems to be a Christmas tradition at our place (I can only judge on last year and this year being with them) that everyone crams into someones car, usually the smallest and heads to Bedford Town Centre to see in the grey area between lunchtime and dinnertime with drink, drink and more drink. Last year, as was last year, there was five hours worth of drinking to be done, and whilst we all must have parted our separate ways at around four-ish this year, I was still fairly sozzled, despite it still being light outside. This didn't help as Mr. Warehouse, the new-ish girl at work and I stood in line for our tickets and on realising that my beloved Starbucks wasn't open I transcended into a full blown drunken-toddler break-down and all because I couldn't have my Eggnog Latte! 

At my Dad's I had sobered up slightly from the fresh air walking and coffee that was awaiting me. Warm and toasty sat in front of the fire, Mr. Warehouse and I snuggled up after our Chinese takeaway and enjoying a Christmas film, Miracle on 34th Street. As it approached midnight Mr. Warehouse and I headed up to bed to await the big man in the morning. But after a god-awful nights sleep in my old spring-fucked double bed I was less than ready to start the day. But with my Dad's forceful encouragement I got out of bed and was washed, dressed and with hair and make-up done by eight-thirty, just in time for my favourite breakfast - Eggs Royale with coffee and Orange Juice. The only way this could have been better is if it was my cherished Eggnog Latte from Starbucks. 

Finishing off breakfast I was eagerly prompted by Father to start the proceedings on opening presents. Wonderful gifts from my Dad and His Girlfriend came first a mixture of all sorts from baking goods and ingredients, a T-shirt, a much needed tool kit from IKEA, some gorgeous Christmas Smelling Yankee Candles I had been after for ages, a weird fish thing that sucks up egg yolks, Lily O'Brien's chocolates and even a Rape Alarm?! I mean thanks and all, I don't want to seem un-courteous or anything or rude, but really - a Rape Alarm?!?! I suppose in a way all of them helpful, handy and practical, which I suppose in a way is good, but after on learning that more had been spent on other people in the extended family than me, his own Daughter I wont lie, I did second guess some of the things I was bought. Not selfish or ungrateful, just confused slightly. 

As I watched everyone else unwrap their gifts I watched as the excitement in the room evolved. Daddy had bought my Mr. Warehouse a bar of Guinness flavoured chocolate which matched with the bottle of Guinness flavoured ale I had bought him also. But Mr. Warehouse doesn't like Guinness. On closer inspection of his presents my darling boyfriend started to clock something wasn't right. A shamrock keyring?! A feather boa coloured green, white and orange - Supposedly "the colours of Arsenal's away kit yeah" I blagged hoping he wouldn't cotton on?! Then came the final present. As Mr. Warehouse opened the package he turned to me and said it was a letter for me. I took it, looked at it and returned it to him asking him to look inside. But as Mr. Warehouse went through the six return train tickets to Birmingham International he still looked confused. 

"Bless him" I thought "Time to put him out his misery!"

And so, handing him his a red envelope he opened it cautiously. Inside he slid out two A4 pieces of paper and turned them round. Face cracking into a shocked but confused smile I explained that for the past three-months I had been keeping a secret that I had not only bought Mr. Warehouse tickets from Bedford to Birmingham International Airport, Flights to Dublin and a £200.00 hotel for four-nights over Valentines day 2016. He was overwhelmed I could tell. Speechless he sat there as he looked at everyone. 

"And Yes, they all knew dear. Everyone from your mom to the guys at work - We had all kept it a big secret!" I explained, getting up to give him a big hug. For the rest of the day he was silent, or at least slightly subdued with the thought that what our initial £125.00 budget was and he had for the most part stuck to, I was smashing with just one present. But it wasn't about the money. It was about the life experiences and cramming in another holiday to the already packed year ahead of us both. 

What did I get in return from my adorable Mr. Warehouse? Well I was bought some things that whilst were not on my list I doubt I could have bought them better myself. Several books on modern day serial killers and psychotic criminals, a DVD on John Wayne Gacy (Only because the John Wayne Gacy artwork I had asked for was slightly out of price range and wouldn't have arrived from America in time), some Tassimo Coffee and Hot Chocolate pods for my Tassimo Coffee Machine (Bought for me a few evenings before by Miss Tweedle-Dee as my Secret Santa gift - FYI: Haven't even had a chance to switch it on yet but love it already! Thank you Miss Tweedle-Dee). Along with a beautiful shabby chic jewellery box, Diamond Heart earrings, Pandora Safety Catch and some gorgeous home-ware pieces I think the boy did good! 

But it didn't stop as when we arrived back at Mr. Warehouse's mother's house that evening after a rather monotonous yet hectic Christmas dinner with my Dad and his girlfriend's family. A bright blue-stoned silver necklace, vouchers, perfume, chocolates, a Hedgehog Pandora Charms and even more smelly candles and home-ware, all gifts that made me realise I was a very luck little madam, not to include the range of alcoholic gifts I got from work and money I had received from other Aunts and Uncles I have seen over the Christmas/New Year Break. 

And by being so absolutely spoilt this year has made me realise just how lucky I am. Some people are not half or even an eighth luck to have what I have. Even now as we speak there are people on the streets, hungry, cold and lonely. Whilst it may not be Christmas for another year, please, I ask for you, as I did, to think of those that aren't as fortunate to have friends, family, gifts, food or something simple like a roof over their head and a warm bed for the night to sleep in. Because in reality its the little things that matter and we are all only a few pay-cheques away from being on the streets. 

Merry Christmas and A Happy and Safe New Year 2016! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Boulders and Lemons ...

Afternoon Amigo's,

So after last week's hectic week I am finally relaxing on my comfy bed in my Pee-Jays! Another birthday has come and gone and at last Miss Tweedle-Dee has caught up with the rest of us girls and is now twenty-one! I feel old when I think about my last few months as a twenty-uno. Slightly depressing thought. Now aside from the manic week I have had, something more juicy ...
 
Now I am sure that if you are as addicted to television as I am then you will have watched a programme on Channel 4 in the UK called 'First Dates'. And if you watched especially carefully would would have seen a particular sexy face that was Moi! You see I have never been shy in front of the camera as when I was younger I used to be the star of all the home movies before my parents separated. As friends and family gathered around on sofa's and stool last Thursday evening we all waited in anticipation to see their loved-one on the telly. Forty minutes in I appear in a minty, white dress and black blazer with my hair tied up in a top-knot. Cringe was not the word. As I sat in front of the box, watching everyone squeal and squirm as they sat, glued to the screen. The conceited gentleman I had the pleasure of spending my evening with was a young Liverpudlian man whom some of you know as Mr. Accent. Now regardless on how I felt about Liverpudlian's in my last post (See Blind Date ...) from my perspective I felt it went well and I had a very enjoyable evening, although our date did consist of discussing for the most part food. This is one such event that you can now watch on repeat if you so wish to. So there I am on the box, with millions watching and I'm discussing on how I love to drink milk and love lemon cake ... the tarty-ier the better. It was a very minimal part of the date in which I was discussing with Mr. Accent my love of baking and in particular my lemon drizzle cake and just how many lemons I use to make it. Four, if you were wondering. I like my drizzle cakes very sour! I also discussed my love of dairy products in particular milk. This was in response to an odd but relevant question asked by Mr. Accent on what would be my favourite drink. So yes I'm sure that you can imagine the fits of giggles and spontaneous laughter that erupted when my mouth decided to talk poo.
 
After our date however we were asked our opinions and as truthfully as possible I answered that it was a really good date and an enjoyable experience. When asked if there was any spark and as to weather a second date was on the cards I replied with an honest and simple 'Dont Know' - although I did elaborate that there was no spark, but maybe it was a 'grower - like mould'! And with that comment teamed with Lemon-gate I was propelled into the social media and online forums, being hash-tagged and shared across all networks. I didn't mean it in a disgraceful of horrible way, just what was what I was trying to elude to. Unfortunately what Mr. Accent said next made sure that any relationship-mould was cleaned up with some anti-bacterial bullshit. When asked how the date went, Mr. Accent kindly expressed in an unusual way, stating that it was *pause* "very different". Mr. Accent went on to describe the encounter like being "stuck in a tunnel with a boulder at the end". Nice! Catapulted back to my sofa I noted that everyone was in discussed. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were horrified at his comments and enraged they took to the world of social media to vent their upset. I felt indifferent to it though. It was sad that it had happened as it made me out to look like I was a complete idiot who thought the date went well, whereas Mr. Accent had made it out to seem like a complete train crash. regardless of how we both felt, there was no denying that there was no spark and whilst it had been nice to meet, it wasn't a 'Grower'.
 
Completely unphased by his comments I ended the night by bidding a fare-well to my guests as they concluded that it was him that looked bad given his two-faced attitude and not me. Just as Miss Tweedle-Dee was leaving she checked my phone and asked whose number it was. I had only just recently got a new phone so dismissed it verbally as maybe someone who I hadn't messaged in a while. Then Miss Tweedle-Dee said the name of the sender out loud and suddenly a chill ran up my spine. Feeling my stomach do somersaults I took the phone from her. It read: "Just watched you ..... You looked so pretty and came across as the lovely warm person you are. Well done you. x" I froze. My eyes transfixed on the shiny screen. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb knew who it was as others started to question. The message was from Mr. Workaholic's mother whom I became very close with. Essentially I treated her like my own absent mother. A thousand questions fizzled in my head. Why would she message me? Why would she still have my number after more than a year's separation from her beloved son? Why would him and his family yet again exhume those awful memories? Dismissing it completely and brushing it off I said my goodbye's. It didn't work with the Tweedle's though, they could see right through me and my fake smiles, because they knew that deep inside it was like someone had unleashed the maggots and it would only be a matter of time before they start to rot the good memories of our relationship once more. After Dad and his girlfriend had ascended the stairs to bed I followed.
 
Sitting in bed though reflecting on the past hour I began to wander deeply about the fresh communication between me and my ex's mother. I still loved him. Nothing to deny there. As I thought about her comments and what might have been if things had been different the tears began to flow. The realisation had set in that Mr. Workaholic had more than likely watched me too. He had seen me flounder on television whilst on a date with another man. Drowning in the depths of ridiculous conversation and silly comments. I felt worthless. Why had this happened? It had been nearly eighteen months and yet here I was curled up on my soft bed, crying like a child into my duvet. Thoughts of Mr. Workaholic and his friends laughing at me, his family judging me on every aspect like they did when we separated. Maybe Mr. Workaholic had moved on and had a wonderful new girlfriend with legs up to her ears, pretty face, small waist and large asset's - All the things I lacked. Mr. Workaholic was probably laughing at what a pathetic excuse I was right then. Was I over him? No. Do I think I ever will be? No. You see my friends, heartbreak his a horrible thing and I wish none of you have to experience it but I have and it has made me who I am today - A better, stronger, harder person.
 
After pulling myself together I realised my phone was going loco. Taking a peek through blurry eyes I saw some beautiful messages. Messages of congrats and appreciation as well as the odd jibe at lemons or milk. Generally really lovely messages on how I have big balls for doing something like this and being able to stand up and get out there in terms of dating. So many wonderful supportive communications from old school friends, old work mates and people I didn't even know. I have even had a few admirers and potential next dates. So to those of you that said something nice, thank-you. You helped me to realise that despite the aftermath of my fifteen minutes of fame, I have come along way from Mr. Workaholic and the days that I was begging him to come back. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb put it, maybe this is a little push and a small nudging reminder of what he let go of. And who know's maybe he'll come begging soon?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Muchas Gracias ...

Hi Everyone,
 
My goodness what a week. Exhausting and stressful but glad that I am able to reveal all to you now. You will be pleased to hear that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are not burnt to a crisp but heavily tanned, although much to their dismay 'The Peel' as it is now refered to has started. So after leaving you last week in stiflingly hot Majorca I am now safely back in the UK, but not without our fair share of problems let me tell you that ...
 
I found Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb by the pool still sunning themselves trying to cram as much tan-time as possible and after a brief disagreement we started to get ready for the transfer coaches arrival. Boarding the coach and finding our seats we appreciated the on-board air conditioning. Bumbling around the local towns and hotels picking up tourists I began listening to a Belfast family and willingly allowed their accents to bless my ears. That is until a well-bronzed, middle-aged couple got on board and started rustling their travel documents. Upset at their rudeness I gazed out the window at the setting sun over Spanish wasteland. I started to day dream of meeting the perfect Irishman in a bar; Tall, dark and handsome with a thick Irish accent. Mmmm! Suddenly though I was snapped back to the cooling coach. Then, Miss Tweedle-Dumb had started to explain how our flight back home was cancelled. Laughing I told her to sod off and stop pulling my leg. Her face was serious but still I refused to believe her. "How dare she snap me out of a pleasant pipe dream of me and my future Husband meeting in a smokey, old-style city pub on 'The Green Isle'. Rude!" I jovially said to myself. As we arrived at the airport though, worrying that my fantasy was interrupted was the last thing I had to worry about. Our flight had been cancelled!
 
Whilst the Tweedles panicked, as did the rest of the coach party, I grabbed a luggage trolley and loaded our bags. Pacing into the Airport itself we joined a line that was already a few hundred long and several people wide. After hearing the stresses of Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I decided to go and ask someone what was going on. I joined some people talking to a young attendant and she informed us that due to some issues with the French authorities no flights were allowed into the airspace at all and that almost eighty percent of flights that day and before had been cancelled. These problems could last for up to four days she went on. Armed with this information I waddled back to The Girls and told them what I knew. Several moment later after discussing options a few of us in the lengthening queue were asked to make a separate line for people going to certain destinations. Like sheep we herded round the desks waiting to hear our fate. Becoming bored I started to befriend a pudgy man behind us in the line. I was somewhat dazzled and slightly bemused by the fact that the larger man had a full set of gold teeth. "Very odd" I thought. But after listening to his conversation to a fellow line-ee I discovered he was a washed up pop star who had appeared on a talent programme some years back. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had to watch some of his performed and cringed watching them later on.

Finally arriving at the desk we were told by the lady that the next available flight wasn't for another three days, but it wasn't guaranteed that would be able to leave either. We had no choice. We had to take it. So Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I agreed and our flight was booked for nearly midnight on Thursday evening. But there was a problem. It was only Tuesday. Where were we going to stay for the next seventy-two hours, or more if our new flight was delayed or cancelled! Thankfully the airline recognised this and whilst they admitted that it wasn't the travel providers fault they had to help somehow. So they paid for Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to stay in a three-star, all-inclusive hotel for a couple of nights and also arrange for pre-paid taxi's to collect and drop us off. Happy for the solution all three of us bundled into a cab and headed to our beds - Not before another dispute due to the fact we were all starving and wasting away due to not eating since breakfast.

And that was that. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had worked out that we had bagged a ten-night holiday in sunny Spain for just under £200.00! Bargain if I do say so myself. The morning after our terrible Tuesday I was able to engorge myself with my all-inclusive breakfast so I didn't die of malnutrition, however the water I feel did alter a few things. Lets just say that The Tweedles and I took a few trips to "Brown-Town" during those extra days - at least the Loo was nice though. The extra few days we spent relaxing by the pool, topping up the tan and drinking pre-mixed Pina Colada's whilst trying to avoid the over-enthusiastic holiday rep's. So here I am, back home at last. But its not all boring - Oh no! Because I can promise you next week will be a storm ... Watch this space!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Lights, Camera, Action!

Hello All,
 
Bloggers Note: This post has been changed as per Wednesday 15th May 2013 as a result of some advice given to me regarding
                           subject matter. Don't worry I am sure I will update your more at a later date :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

After an explosive edition last week with views of Trials and Tribulations (of a 20-Something) rocketing to over a thousand last week I would again like to say a big thank-you and that it is very uplifting to come home from a hard days work to see that people still care, so thanks guys!
 
Now, where do I begin on the week I have just had? It started normally, and included an evening sifting through my e-mails deciphering crap from keep. I came across an e-mail from a website looking for people to join in with a new show. After pondering on it for a few days and a deep conversation with Mom I decided to just apply. Attaching some photos and clicking send I never thought it would go very far. Thursday evening after going swimming with Miss Chocolate and as we were about to go into my local for something to eat, I get a call. I answer. Its the production company asking me some questions regarding my application. Sitting in the car while it poured with rain outside I answered honestly and truthfully to the questions asked of my life in general. Ten minutes later, the young female voice asked if I was free Saturday afternoon to come down to London for a casting. And so a plan was set in place that I would go to the city for a casting that following weekend. Munching down on dinner Miss Chocolate and I giggle and chatted about what it would be like and weather anything would every come of it at all.
 
Saturday rolled around as soon as anything and as I started to prepare for my journey I had a call from Miss Tweedle-Dee, stating that she was going with me and to meet her at the station. Once I was ready I blagged a lift with a concerned father to the train station and waiting in the car until the train came, explaining to my Dad that everything would be OK and I would keep safe and all the rest of reassuring you have to do when your off to the Capital. Stepping out into the cold and wet from the car was not pleasant and I soon realised that the hours I had spent on my hair, prettying it, was a waste of time. Meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dee we headed to the big lights of London and headed straight to the infamous Oxford Street to purchase some bargain buys before hopping on the tube again. Coming out of London's St. Pancreas/Kings Cross Station Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for cover as we unsuccessfully dodged the wet weather. Wisely we agreed to split up and that I would go to the casting whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee waiting in a nearby coffee shop. As I started to walk down the long city street I began to realised that this might not be such a good idea. I was soaked right through, my wet, pink shirt clung to my body, my hair was a mess and my make-up made me look like a soggy panda. Was this really going to go anywhere? They would take one look at me and just say "Go away, you are ridiculous!" Although as I thought this I still continued walking and it wasn't before long that I could see the building in question I needed to be.
 
Walking into the building I was greeted by a young receptionist and after a brief conversion involving a short, blonde, middle-aged women we were directed to the bathrooms to freshen up. Upon arrival at said bathroom I noticed that the hair I had spent the previous evening and this morning trying to perfect my locks was all in vain - This mop was going up in a chic, messy bun. The make-up was also adjusted before tackling the sodden blouse. Seeing that the hand dryer was a modern, stick-your-hands-in-and-blow-off-your-skin kind of machine made me pause for a second. How would I dry my shirt? The only way I knew how to I thought. Sweeping my arms through, bingo-wings included I dried my sleeves well. Now it was for the rest. As I squatted in front of this contraption pulling my shirt inside and waving frantically to keep the blowers going I wondered how silly I looked to the middle-aged, blonde lady in the bathroom with me. Shyly she struck up conversation and I could tell instantly she was a nervous wreck. Try to put her at ease I calmed her thoughts that the room was going to be filled with skinny, blonde, busty women looking for love. On the contrary I was thinking that the room would be stuffed with older females, looking for someone they (and their ten cats) can spend the rest of their days with. Well we didn't have long to wait as we walked into an office where we were given some forms to fill out. Trying to make small talk we discussed our lives previous and I discovered that she too came from the Home Counties surrounding London, fancied members of a well-known boy band and was previously married but in her words 'divorced that good for nothing lay-about'.
 
As I was scribbling down my details and reading through the terms and conditions a tall, handsome man walked in with brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Just my type of man. Only thing is he was wearing a blue and white checked shirt, the kind that Mr. Workaholic used to wear to work. Great I thought. I'm now about to be interviewed by my Ex's Doppelganger! Walking into the lift he asked if I had ever done anything like this before as I was very calm and relaxed compared to others he had seen throughout the day. I said how I was used to camera's and the 'acting/fliming' environment as I studied media production and theory at college. As the lift reached the its destination he explained the process of the next few moments. Sitting down I started to tell my story. All of the questions were similar to the application and the phone call I had on Thursday evening so nothing to nerve-shattering. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome asked about my parents and their relationship. Now this was a difficult one to try and skirt around. If you hadn't already known, my parents split when I was just seventeen and one day but the legal proceedings have only just been sorted out. When I say 'Parents' now (in my blog) I refer then to my Dad and his partner. My mother? Ahh, see that is another one. A whole different story in a whole different library! The long and the short of it was that I wanted to maintain a relationship with my father after he was asked to leave the family home and this was something that my mother detested; so much so after a couple of months she chucked me out on the streets and told me to go live with my Father which was impossible since he was living at my grandparents. Luckily my uncle took me in until I moved in by myself, but I haven't spoken to my mother properly since. I call Dad's partner Mom just to make things easier to understand, although I would say it to her face.

I explained my life as it is and described some of the things I enjoy doing and had been through in my 20-something years of being on this earth. I skimmed over the 'thing' I had with Mr. Coffee as in all honesty it wasn't much to brag about. But when it came to talking bout Mr.Workaholic, suddenly I became alone in the room. Just me. And as I opened up about the day Mr.Workaholic came home to tell me he no longer wanted to be with me. It was so raw and fresh at the same time that I felt naked and exposed for the first time in many months. Talking about it in such a bare way made it all seem so real and like it had only happened yesterday. I didn't cry, but it could have easily turned into that if I had carried on. The subject of children and the white picket fence came up and I admitted that I wanted it all, just not right now. I said how I wanted to have fun first and experience life before settling down. After calling it a wrap, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome and his female colleague remarked on how mature and wise I was for my age and how such a young, vibrant, bubbly person can have endured so much in such a short amount of time. I knew that they weren't just talking of relationships but also the fact that my own mother threw me out at just seventeen. I was used to it though, everyone seems to feel sorry for me, I don't know why?

Taking the trusty lift downstairs again and walking back to the office, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome said again how cool and collected I was and made clear the next steps in the process. Filling out yet more paperwork and reading a heavy contract I listened to the other women chattering on about lives outside of this building. Most of them I could tell were from London just by their accent and how they spoke. 'Ive been travelling for nine years around Romanian, Russia, France and the Middle East' and 'I went there on my gap year actually' were a few of the phrases throw around by the socialites whilst I tried to read through the extensive pages of boring contract. Finally signing and handing back my papers I waited in the room of city dwellers and there I listened more to a middle-aged women discussing how her boisterous and confident attitude didn't bode well with men and thus the lack of relationships. Once I was cleared to go I thought nothing more of heading straight out the door and back to the coffee shop where Miss Tweedle-Dee was waiting for me.

Skipping down the wet high street I savoured the sights of the city; the tall buildings, grey pavements and loud noises made me grateful of my quiet suburbia back home with Mom and Dad. Arriving at the coffee shop I found a rather tired Miss Tweedle-Dee watching TV on her smart-phone and texting friends. "Before you start, if you want a drink you should get one now" she said. After dithering for a few seconds I went to get something to drink. As I approached the back of the queue I saw a friendly face. Is that who I think it is? It was! It was two very famous members of a English boy-band whose name sounds like McSky. I was very happy and thought about asking for a photo but figured since one of them had their hood up indoors and they were dressed casually that they were attempting an incognito snack break. After rushing back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and announcing my findings of their order I raced back to gawp at them some more. Once they had left I placed my order and once seated safely at my table with Miss Tweedle-Dee beside me I told my tale.

After slurping down our beverages Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed back to the tubes for some last minute shopping and sightseeing, winding up at Marble Arch next to Hyde Park for some dinner. I enjoyed our little trip and whilst nothing may never come of the casting specifically, it was a nice experience and one I can share with you all. Maybe this is a step in the right direction for me as far as dating goes? Mind you I better not be settling down too soon I have mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic weekend away coming up soon so hold on tight for some more prowling nights out.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Casting A Line ...

Hello,

Bloggers Note: This post has been changed as per Wednesday 15th May 2013 as a result of some advice given to me regarding
                           subject matter. Don't worry I am sure I will update your more at a later date :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

What a week! Well there has been alot going on in the wonderful world of me this week. Now as I am sure you are aware I recently went for a casting in London a few weeks ago. (See Lights, Camera, Action!) So at the end of last week I had a phone call from a very enthusiastic young women who told me I had been short-listed and asked if I would be able to come down to the city for filming. Brilliant news and something I have been both excited and unusually nervous about.
 
So for the past seven days or so I have been scouring the high street for the perfect 'me' look that says that I am an intelligent individual who loves to have fun whilst being sexy but without saying 'how much do you charge an hour?' After going shopping with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb on Saturday, supposedly for a holiday shop - Part one of many I might add; the girls and I found a perfect outfit that said classy and sophisticated yet playful and cute. Collapsing onto my bed back home I was exhausted, but looking up and my minty green dress and smart blazer I convinced myself that it was perfect, but not for something that is meant to represent more 'me'. After talking to my parents I decided to hit the shops before work the following day and found the perfect outfit for under fifty-quid. Pleased as punch I grabbed a coffee and headed to work at my new job.
 
Finally the day rolled round where I was due to go and film. Forgetting half of my outfit at home in the morning I scrambled around the rails at the store where I bought it from praying they would have an identical one in my size. All in vain though as I had grabbed the last one off the shelf a few days prior, but there was another similar styled garment in my size so I dashed to the counter with it in toe, knowing that in less than a week I would probably be bringing it back. Rushing around like a headless chicken I made it too the station on time and hopped on the first train to the capital. I never realised how damn hot it is on a tube, I mean I'm a warm individual and am always cold, but the temperature in those tin can's on wheels is unbearable. I'm surprised people were not getting their kit off! Regardless, arriving in central London and having no clue where I'm going I started to walk in the soggy weather to the address given, pondering the fact that every time I come to London its always raining. I mean for once can it not just be nice weather. I do find it funny though how the weather reflects the mood in London - literally no-body smiles, its like they've had there happy-gland taken out and a pole up their arse in a bid to replace it. Slightly late although in one piece I looked around at the rows of houses wondering ideally how much it would cost to buy one. I know I could never afford one, but its always nice to dream.
 
Upon walking into the spacious and well decorated hallway a gentleman appeared and lead me downstairs to the studio's. To be honest, it reminded me of all the set-up we used to make in college. Straightening my skirt and sitting down on a plastic chair I knew I would carefully have to peel my self off later, I looked around curious at what will happen next. A bearded man appeared and proceeded fiddle with stuff but just as soon as he appeared he had gone again. I wasn't left alone for long though and soon after a tall, bald man introduced himself and he started to tell me a little about what would happen. It was reassuring being in his company and he made me feel less nervous and brought out the shine in myself that is only comes out when I am centre of attention. We went through the same questions as we did in the first casting and things went swimmingly until we came to the subject of my mother (I will get around to telling you what happened one day, its just there are more important things to talk about than 'her').
 
Awkwardness cast aside and a few harrowing minutes later I was back to bubbly and happy Abbey-Lou. The rest of the questions we sailed though on; discussing my blog (TATOATS), where I see my writing career going and what I want from life but then came an odd question. "Do you ever have somebody or something in your head telling you stuff, almost like a little voice?" said Mr. Bald. I smiled but only because it was true. In fact at that revise moment my 'voice' was telling me about how Mr. Bald's wrinkly forehead looked funny against his round face. Pushing that thought to the back of my head I replied with a simple 'yes' and some small anecdote, one not including wrinkles. In hindsight, wrinkled foreheads remind me of Mr. Workaholic's Dad and his scrunched up head-rolls. I continued and as the filming came to a close Mr. Bald said that he had some inside information to show me. Now, anyone that has been able to get a glimpse of my 'Virgin' post of Casting A Line ... before it was reviewed will know of this secret information but for now unfortunately I have to keep it a mystery. Rest assured though, I will be able to reveal all at a later date!

Leaving said address and walking out into the wet evening weather of the city I started to feel like things were maybe moving faster than expected. It still even as I am writing seems so surreal. So were all set for this coming weekend. It will be a busy one as I have holiday shopping part two on Saturday during the day, a blind date Saturday evening, early Sunday morning Ive got a boot sale to do with Miss Chocolate and then Sunday afternoon I'm visiting family for my granddad's seventieth birthday BBQ - If the weather holds out.

Now, speaking of BBQ its making me hungry so off I go to raid the fridge ... Shhh, don't tell dad!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Lucky Escape ...

Evening,
 
Well, what a week this has been. Here in the UK we have been experiencing some extreme weather conditions, of which have blown of several of my plans! I am very angry at this. It seems that us Brits can't seem to deal with a few drops of the white stuff - I'm on about snow; Filthy!. I mean a single helping of it is enough to bring this country to its knees - OK, now I am playing with you.
 
So this weekend was meant to be mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic mini break away to North-Wales-ish. Wrong. The snow had better plans. And so all our plans for a naked skinny-dipping spa, eating fast food in the bathroom and heading to the shops just to buy an outfit that we would return after our rowdy night out have now all gone to shit because of the bad weather up North. Granted, we have changed the dates, but I don't know whether I can get the day off from work and this is causing some ruffled feathers in the love nest of Miss Chocolat a la Moi. Regardless I am sure that we will be the best of friends soon as we have an impending weekend of havoc to create as the bunny ears are out and we are ready to party like its Easter 2013! I also have an 80's V 90's night to attend with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dee and some other well known faces. So this weekend should be a blast if the bloody snow holds off. It'll give me something interesting to tell of next week.
 
And after last weeks drama surrounding Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that this chapter is now closed and I shall no longer be obsessing, fantasising or thinking of the so-called 'rocker', although I use that term very loosely. In a desperate attempt to gain his attention I did attempt to text Mr. Coffee several times throughout the week, even a phone-call or two, inviting him over for dinner and drinks, but all to no avail. So after logging into Facebook and seeing that he was online I struck up a conversation knowing that he wouldn't be in a talkative mood. Pop! Suddenly to my surprise Mr. Coffee answered back and we started small talk. I asked how college was and he said he was enjoying it especially since there were drama's erupting and romances blossoming. This got me thinking. "Does that mean that your trying to pursue someone then?" I typed, cautious of what the answer might be. He replied with Maybe. I sat there, stunned. A small part of me thought 'Knock, Knock, Oh Hey! You know it might be you that he's talking about?' Knowing that this wasn't the case but still hoping that it was I asked another question, "Was that the case last week?" but silence soon followed. I asked again and this time Mr. Coffee replied. "Sort of - Its complicated, but she wasn't there no" was the weak response that he attempted to fool me with. I hesitated to believe him. Then a surge of energy as the ice melted his hands and they flowed freely across his keyboard telling me how I somehow put him on the spot last week. Not True. And how its all really complicated right now. Calm and collected I started my own scat along my laptop keypad. How dare he! "Whats going on between us?" I asked burning up with a simmering mixture of embarrassment and anger. Again more silence. Again I asked. "I don't think there is anything between us, dude. I just don't think we're right for each other." - Quote and verbatim. I mean who says 'dude' now-days anyway. I'm sorry I didn't realise you were Axel Rose? Humiliation swallowed me up making me feel like a fool in the way of relationships yet again. But at least I know - I'm glad that it took more than eight weeks to get sorted! Seems like it may be a blessing in disguise as the self-proclaimed womaniser moves onto his next piece of meat. *High-Pitch-Gay-Man-Voice* "Uhh, yeah I'm not a Hump-'em-and-dump-'em kinda guy". Yeah ... Much! 
 
Mr. Mot has also made several appearances this week, lending his ear and sharing life as well as yet again asking me to spend some 'quality' time with him. The latest one, is me nursing him back to health and tending to his every need. Every. Need. But as it would happen I don't have any qualifications to nurse anyone back to health and impersonating a figure of authority within the public sector is an arresting offence. Even so I am sure Mr. Mot wouldn't say not to handcuffing me and having his wicked way with a naughty convict.

So here's hoping the weather holds out for me this weekend and stays nice so I can get my claws into a new obsession! Out on the prowl again ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx