Heyy,
With many wedding plannings afoot, Mr Warehouse and I decided to take a break and head to London for the day, partly to celebrate Valentines Day, our last as a Fiancee and Fiance, but also as a Merry Christmas Pressie to our Beau. I had promised him that I would take him to go and see his favourite Disney film in theatres - Mary Poppins! As the website suggests Disney and Cameron Mackintosh’s have collaborated in order to create a multi-award-winning musical. Playing at the Prince Edward Theatre, this is the timeless and magical story of the world’s favourite Nanny. Being triumphantly and spectacularly brought to the stage with dazzling choreography, incredible effects and unforgettable songs. MaryPoppinsOnStage.co.uk goes into detail about the cast, starring Zizi Strallen, returning to play the title role following great acclaim on the recent sell-out international tour along with co-stars Charlie Stemp as Bert, Joseph Millson as Mr Banks, Amy Griffiths as Mrs Banks and the legendary Petula Clark as The Bird Woman. "The stage production of Mary Poppins is brilliantly adapted from the wonderful stories by PL Travers and the original film. It is co-created by Cameron Mackintosh and has a book by Oscar-winning screenwriter and Downton Abbey creator, Julian Fellowes. With a timeless score by Richard M Sherman and Robert B Sherman including the classic songs; Jolly Holiday, Step in Time, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and Feed the Birds with new songs and additional music and lyrics, including Practically Perfect, by the Olivier award-winning British team of George Stiles and Anthony Drewe."
However, as we attended the third ticket office we were met with the same response, and unless we were willing to pay over £150.00 PER TICKET then we were in no way going to be able to afford such an affair. Unfortunately the combination of booking slightly last minute and more so the fact of it being half-term holidays for kids, Londoners or otherwise, it was going to be damned impossible to get any sort of supposed discounted or cheap tickets. Disappointingly I accepted that it was not meant to be, but promised Mr Warehouse I would take him to see it again soon, maybe a weekday evening, before the play shuts for good in June 2020.
Instead, we decided to grab Costa Coffee (well I did). Indulging in the new Valentines Day inspired drink, made with Ruby cocoa that gives the drink a stunning natural rose pink colour - The new Ruby Hot Chocolate. Infused with sweet berry flavours, crowned with a swirl of cream and finished with red shimmer chocolate curls it certainly was not Slimming World friendly.
Following our little pitstop, I decided to take my future Husband to the wondrous world of Borough Market with all its tidbits and nibbles. As its website reveals, Borough Market is rich with history, but it remains as relevant now as it has ever been. As London’s oldest food market, it has been serving the people of Southwark for 1,000 years, and that extraordinary heritage is an important part of its appeal. However, despite the array and variety of the food on offer, it was far, far too busy for Mr Warehouse to even entertain eating something overpriced and Hipster and so we left, empty-handed and slightly hungry.
Next stop, throughout the horrendous weather storm Dennis was inflicting on us and the rest of the country was the Tower of London. Included in the ticket price (which we used a 2-for-1 offer, I ain't made of money) are captivating stories of pain and passion, treachery and torture on the Yeoman Warder tour, a chance to meet the famous ravens and discover why they are known as the guardians of the Tower and a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the breathtakingly world-famous collection of 23,578 gemstones and crowns of the state.
The weather truth be told was horrid, that frustrating combination of spitting rain and high-speed winds that made for a pretty miserable day out in the City. And so, following our visit we headed to the tube in search of Absurd Bird in London's Soho District, something I have been begging to take Mr Warehouse to ever since I first tried in in Bath with Miss Tweedle-Dee during our trip to HMP Shepton Mallet (Haunted Happenings at Her Majesty's Pleasure). Advertising itself as "Deep South Fried Chicken, Wings, Waffles & Cocktails", Absurd Bird hit the spot, even for a weary Mr Warehouse who selected a Chicken burger and onion rings. For me, I was yet again met with disappointment as the waiter informed me that there was no deep-fried Babybel on the menu and that this was taken off several months ago, much to my dismay. Instead, I drowned my sorrows with an ABBuffalo Chicken Burger with spicy buffalo sauce, garlic mayo, lettuce, tomato, blue cheese served in a brioche bun with a tangy carrot & celery slaw. This was all washed down with a BOGOF cocktail, The Green Jubel: Vodka, melon Midori, kiwi syrup & apple juice. Shaken hard with lemon juice & fresh apples - Simply Delish!
Heading home I was glad to be back in the 'Shire. Despite the darkness and black of the now night sky, I was glad to be out of the rat-race-mentality of the Big Smoke. Now don't get me wrong, I would never admit it, but I am glad I didn't follow my earlier dream of working in the city as a 20-something. I very much doubt it would be all Bridget Jones and Notting Hill, more likely than not I would have been stuck out along the ends of the tube, ages from the hustle and bustle. I would have grown tired of the corporate events, meetings and high-powered nature of business. Now whilst I imagine the money being good, maybe very good, I eventually would have grown frustrated with the price of everything including socialising and eating out, not to mention the fact I would have never been able to afford my own home. Granted the dating scene would have been plentiful, but I would soon have eaten through the Tinder profiles and POF dates, only adding to my city-frustrations.
Yes, certainly glad to watch from afar and enjoy city living for a few hours, maybe even a few days, but I am always glad to return to the greenery of home and the peaceful surrounds of Cranfield. Yes, I could have gone to the City, earned my money and come out again, possibly even man in toe; But I know I would have gotten far too used to the pennies and would have ended up living out the rest of my days in the smog of London, miserable and bitter not looking at people or making eye contact with whilst on the tube, all after I have raged on Instagram about having to wait 2 minutes for the next tube.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Valentines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentines. Show all posts
Monday, 17 February 2020
Monday, 12 February 2018
One Year On ...
Afternoon All,
Hard to see how things have changed since this time last year. A lot has changed, however there are many things that are still the same old same old. Like my love for Cheese and Mr. Warehouse's obsession for recording stuff and not watching it on the iPlayer. But one thing is for sure, and as it approaches Valentines Day our love for each other is just as strong as last year if not moreso. Another thing that has grown stronger is our love for Pooch and given the circumstances surrounding last year I am glad we have made it this far with what was such a sad and desperate time.
Mr. Warehouse and I noticed the pooch had a gunky eye first of all. It was closed and sore looking. Pups had not been well for some days, not eating properly, if at all and had a complete loss of interest in anything she used to love and enjoy. Worried if it was something more serious we bundled her into my car and headed to the Vets. Once the Veterinary nurse had taken some swabs of her eyes and quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits over the last few days. Mr. Warehouse proceeded to explain that pooch had been prescribed some medicine for a water infection a couple of weeks ago and it had seemed to clear it up but she had done a little accident two days earlier, which he put down to just being excited, although I and the Vet disagreed. When I explained that since she was originally owned by the Brother of Mr. Warehouse, she had not been spayed the Vet seemed evermore concerned. Then come a wave of peculiar questions that were all answered with a yes. At this point the Veterinarian seemed very anxious and asked our permission to take bloods to see how her vitals were performing. When I asked the Veterinary nurse about what might be possibly wrong I expected it to be something small and easily treatable, but then cam her explanation.
"She has what is called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait a few weeks for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her."
Shocked and shaking I asked about what we can do and what as owners our options were. She talked through the various routes we had but ultimately the cost was huge and we had to consider other options than surgery. Numbers and figures whirling around my head all with the thoughts that this was a very simple and easily preventable illness. I couldn't take it. My rage filling up inside that this was what we had to deal with because of someone else's negligence. The Veterinarian took some more swabs from Pooch's undercarriage and said that since there is no leakage that Mr. Warehouse and I had to prepare for the worst. Leaving our sickly pup in the hands of what would have appeared to be a very, very good Pet Doctor we left to grab a coffee and discuss our options.
After Mr. Warehouse's Brother bought the bundle of fluff he handed her over, almost like a toy and into the care of a teenage Mr. Warehouse and his Mom, both of whom worked and were not ready or prepared for an animal. But nevertheless they cared for her as best they could but as a adolescent man, no-one had kept her up to date on her vaccinations as a puppy or as an adult dog. Therefore as a result of this, her pet insurance had been invalidated years ago. Without it we were left in a very desperate situation.
"We have a lot to talk about" I said, hoping that magically we would find the money or a solution would come to us in the darkness, only lit by street lamps on the side of a road, outside what we now know in the daylight as a church. Watching the cars windows steam with little talk and more silent tears, all I could see were dog walkers. We were one of them. We still are one of them. And we needed to find a way to fix her. She is our dog and Mr. Warehouse and I need to be strong for her because for every moment we have had a shitty day or been poorly or unhappy she has been there for us. Now it is our turn. Not just that but we have got so many things left to do together. Run on sandy beaches, Hop on a ferry for a holiday or just for her to share in some of life's biggest moments with Mr. Warehouse and I.
She was still on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication from the Vets but Mr. Warehouse and I decided to carry on with our Peak District Valentines break away with Pup but within twenty-four hours after coming off the meds, returning home our pooch got poorly again, signature eye infection and constantly licking her privates. Taking her to the Vets again they couldn't determine as to what was causing her upset. Asking to consult with colleagues we were left to discuss our financial options which were dwindling with every visit we seemed to make. With the prospects of a £1,500+ bill for the operation alone we were nervous of what the Vet had to say.
After searching constantly for a way to get through this calling over one-hundred local vets and even ones as far as forty miles from where we called home. Mr. Warehouse never knew the sleepless nights or evenings I would spend researching charities or funding pages that may be able to help. I must admit though that I did look into the horrific alternative and the costs that it would incur. Every night I was left alone with the TV I would open up my laptop / tablet, pooch sat beside me, and nearly cry my heart out for the lack of help around.
The next few hours and days were a blur until the weekend when Mr. Warehouse was accepted for a loan at the bank, funnily enough not actually needed for Pooch's Op but to try and better manage his debt and Credit Cards. Timing impeccable, we walked out of that room with a smile on our faces not only meant that we had secured Mr. Warehouse's financial status, but also that we could save our dogs life and in a way ours. A few days later I was nervous as I walked back into the Vets to collect Mr. Warehouse's pooch. What condition was she going to be in? Was she going to recover quickly? Had she peed on the floor in fear after the last time we arrived? But more importantly ... How much is it going to cost our little family financially? It had been a stressful few weeks leading up to that moment but the second the little student nurse brought out our furry baby we knew the decision to operate was the right one. She was so happy, the happiest we had seen her in some time. Her belly wasn't anywhere near as swollen as it once was and in its place was a shaved belly and a six-inch-scar, held together with little stitches. She had a bandage on her paw where she had her IV drip and fluids. Looked like some child had just been playing Doctors and Nurses with her to be honest. But she was defiantly feeling much better it would have seemed. And I suppose you would have felt better too if you saw what was removed.
The infected womb that was removed was full, bulging and resembled haggis showed the photos took by surgeons. The Pyometra had got to the point of bursting and had even developed a small rupture which was found when the Vet's operated. Mr. Warehouse had been ever-so close to loosing our puppy and we were sure to make the most of life once she was back on her paws. And boy have we. All three of us ran along the freezing but sandy beaches of Great Yarmouth in spring last year, had many trips to the lake for swimming and attempted picnics and even managed a weekend away to Bath in a log cabin by a toasty fire which I think Pooch enjoyed very much. All in all we are so lucky to have her still and make her last few years with us the best they can be ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hard to see how things have changed since this time last year. A lot has changed, however there are many things that are still the same old same old. Like my love for Cheese and Mr. Warehouse's obsession for recording stuff and not watching it on the iPlayer. But one thing is for sure, and as it approaches Valentines Day our love for each other is just as strong as last year if not moreso. Another thing that has grown stronger is our love for Pooch and given the circumstances surrounding last year I am glad we have made it this far with what was such a sad and desperate time.
Mr. Warehouse and I noticed the pooch had a gunky eye first of all. It was closed and sore looking. Pups had not been well for some days, not eating properly, if at all and had a complete loss of interest in anything she used to love and enjoy. Worried if it was something more serious we bundled her into my car and headed to the Vets. Once the Veterinary nurse had taken some swabs of her eyes and quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits over the last few days. Mr. Warehouse proceeded to explain that pooch had been prescribed some medicine for a water infection a couple of weeks ago and it had seemed to clear it up but she had done a little accident two days earlier, which he put down to just being excited, although I and the Vet disagreed. When I explained that since she was originally owned by the Brother of Mr. Warehouse, she had not been spayed the Vet seemed evermore concerned. Then come a wave of peculiar questions that were all answered with a yes. At this point the Veterinarian seemed very anxious and asked our permission to take bloods to see how her vitals were performing. When I asked the Veterinary nurse about what might be possibly wrong I expected it to be something small and easily treatable, but then cam her explanation.
"She has what is called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait a few weeks for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her."
Shocked and shaking I asked about what we can do and what as owners our options were. She talked through the various routes we had but ultimately the cost was huge and we had to consider other options than surgery. Numbers and figures whirling around my head all with the thoughts that this was a very simple and easily preventable illness. I couldn't take it. My rage filling up inside that this was what we had to deal with because of someone else's negligence. The Veterinarian took some more swabs from Pooch's undercarriage and said that since there is no leakage that Mr. Warehouse and I had to prepare for the worst. Leaving our sickly pup in the hands of what would have appeared to be a very, very good Pet Doctor we left to grab a coffee and discuss our options.
After Mr. Warehouse's Brother bought the bundle of fluff he handed her over, almost like a toy and into the care of a teenage Mr. Warehouse and his Mom, both of whom worked and were not ready or prepared for an animal. But nevertheless they cared for her as best they could but as a adolescent man, no-one had kept her up to date on her vaccinations as a puppy or as an adult dog. Therefore as a result of this, her pet insurance had been invalidated years ago. Without it we were left in a very desperate situation.
"We have a lot to talk about" I said, hoping that magically we would find the money or a solution would come to us in the darkness, only lit by street lamps on the side of a road, outside what we now know in the daylight as a church. Watching the cars windows steam with little talk and more silent tears, all I could see were dog walkers. We were one of them. We still are one of them. And we needed to find a way to fix her. She is our dog and Mr. Warehouse and I need to be strong for her because for every moment we have had a shitty day or been poorly or unhappy she has been there for us. Now it is our turn. Not just that but we have got so many things left to do together. Run on sandy beaches, Hop on a ferry for a holiday or just for her to share in some of life's biggest moments with Mr. Warehouse and I.
She was still on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication from the Vets but Mr. Warehouse and I decided to carry on with our Peak District Valentines break away with Pup but within twenty-four hours after coming off the meds, returning home our pooch got poorly again, signature eye infection and constantly licking her privates. Taking her to the Vets again they couldn't determine as to what was causing her upset. Asking to consult with colleagues we were left to discuss our financial options which were dwindling with every visit we seemed to make. With the prospects of a £1,500+ bill for the operation alone we were nervous of what the Vet had to say.
After searching constantly for a way to get through this calling over one-hundred local vets and even ones as far as forty miles from where we called home. Mr. Warehouse never knew the sleepless nights or evenings I would spend researching charities or funding pages that may be able to help. I must admit though that I did look into the horrific alternative and the costs that it would incur. Every night I was left alone with the TV I would open up my laptop / tablet, pooch sat beside me, and nearly cry my heart out for the lack of help around.
The next few hours and days were a blur until the weekend when Mr. Warehouse was accepted for a loan at the bank, funnily enough not actually needed for Pooch's Op but to try and better manage his debt and Credit Cards. Timing impeccable, we walked out of that room with a smile on our faces not only meant that we had secured Mr. Warehouse's financial status, but also that we could save our dogs life and in a way ours. A few days later I was nervous as I walked back into the Vets to collect Mr. Warehouse's pooch. What condition was she going to be in? Was she going to recover quickly? Had she peed on the floor in fear after the last time we arrived? But more importantly ... How much is it going to cost our little family financially? It had been a stressful few weeks leading up to that moment but the second the little student nurse brought out our furry baby we knew the decision to operate was the right one. She was so happy, the happiest we had seen her in some time. Her belly wasn't anywhere near as swollen as it once was and in its place was a shaved belly and a six-inch-scar, held together with little stitches. She had a bandage on her paw where she had her IV drip and fluids. Looked like some child had just been playing Doctors and Nurses with her to be honest. But she was defiantly feeling much better it would have seemed. And I suppose you would have felt better too if you saw what was removed.
The infected womb that was removed was full, bulging and resembled haggis showed the photos took by surgeons. The Pyometra had got to the point of bursting and had even developed a small rupture which was found when the Vet's operated. Mr. Warehouse had been ever-so close to loosing our puppy and we were sure to make the most of life once she was back on her paws. And boy have we. All three of us ran along the freezing but sandy beaches of Great Yarmouth in spring last year, had many trips to the lake for swimming and attempted picnics and even managed a weekend away to Bath in a log cabin by a toasty fire which I think Pooch enjoyed very much. All in all we are so lucky to have her still and make her last few years with us the best they can be ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 2 January 2017
New Year, New Ventures ...
Heyy,
So there is was. Christmas. All over and done with for another year. Hard to believe that you have such a long build-up of anticipations for the months and weeks leading up to the big day, all enveloped with who has the best Christmas advert when do you put the turkey in and did you remember to buy Aunt Agnus a gift. And so begins the heavy hangover that is New Years. Back to work,cold and sometimes wet with little or no money it is a bleak outlook. It seems like Summer is such a long way off and nothing really to look forward to I cant help but look at summer holidays and spending countless bank holiday weekends with the other half and the dog.
First place to hit up will be around Valentines day and whilst you would think that Mr. Warehouse and I would prefer a weekend to be together spending QT indulging in some romantic activities, we wont. Instead we will be heading (hopefully) to the Peak District right in the heart of England. It will be February and so therefore cold, probably very cold, although I am quite looking forward to a cosy AirBnb cottage in Bakewell, surrounded by miles of AONB Countryside, and fingers crossed a few flakes of snow. I suppose that yes it would be nice to go away for a couple of nights with Mr. Warehouse, just us and a nice hotel room somewhere, it just wouldn't feel right without pooch. We love her as much as we love each other and that is what is most important, spending time with the ones that you love, be it human or otherwise.
Next on the agenda is ideally somewhere hot and exotic for a mine and the boyfriends first beach holiday. I know I can hardly believe that in all our travels we have yet to go to a proper beach holiday resort and tan until our hearts content. I have found a couple of nice ideas in the form of Agadir in Morocco and whilst they are not a million miles away they will still provide us the sort of holiday we would both be happy with. I had tried originally the Caribbean or Mexico but that is a little too expensive, especially if we are looking to go away in April's Easter Break. A ten-day holiday in the sun for the price of seven annual leave days from work and all for under the price of a normal week in the sun with the Girls I usually have I think is a bargain, I just hope Mr. Warehouse see's it that way.
Maybe later in the year we can have another mini-break to Newquay or somewhere by the sea so Pup can feel the sand between her toes and maybe even as Autumn rolls round we might even be able to squeeze in another trip to Europe for a Christmas Market or even Iceland to see the Northern Lights. Although one step at a time, I think if I was to spell all this out to Mr. Warehouse right now he might have a stroke, and not the good kind.
You see as a new years resolution this year I really want to travel more. Its been a good few years since Vegas and whilst the Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend accompanied Miss Tweedle-Dee and her family on a trip back there just before Christmas last year it is something that I am now craving. And why not?! Mr. Warehouse and I have no other commitments other than his (and my adoptive) dog which Miss Tweede-Dee has kindly said she would dog and house sit whilst we were away. I now have a car so am not pressured to start learning anymore. I have a new job with better money so I want to afford the luxuries life has to offer. It is something I have come to realise is all to fragile and can be taken away at any given time without warning or planning.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So there is was. Christmas. All over and done with for another year. Hard to believe that you have such a long build-up of anticipations for the months and weeks leading up to the big day, all enveloped with who has the best Christmas advert when do you put the turkey in and did you remember to buy Aunt Agnus a gift. And so begins the heavy hangover that is New Years. Back to work,cold and sometimes wet with little or no money it is a bleak outlook. It seems like Summer is such a long way off and nothing really to look forward to I cant help but look at summer holidays and spending countless bank holiday weekends with the other half and the dog.
First place to hit up will be around Valentines day and whilst you would think that Mr. Warehouse and I would prefer a weekend to be together spending QT indulging in some romantic activities, we wont. Instead we will be heading (hopefully) to the Peak District right in the heart of England. It will be February and so therefore cold, probably very cold, although I am quite looking forward to a cosy AirBnb cottage in Bakewell, surrounded by miles of AONB Countryside, and fingers crossed a few flakes of snow. I suppose that yes it would be nice to go away for a couple of nights with Mr. Warehouse, just us and a nice hotel room somewhere, it just wouldn't feel right without pooch. We love her as much as we love each other and that is what is most important, spending time with the ones that you love, be it human or otherwise.
Next on the agenda is ideally somewhere hot and exotic for a mine and the boyfriends first beach holiday. I know I can hardly believe that in all our travels we have yet to go to a proper beach holiday resort and tan until our hearts content. I have found a couple of nice ideas in the form of Agadir in Morocco and whilst they are not a million miles away they will still provide us the sort of holiday we would both be happy with. I had tried originally the Caribbean or Mexico but that is a little too expensive, especially if we are looking to go away in April's Easter Break. A ten-day holiday in the sun for the price of seven annual leave days from work and all for under the price of a normal week in the sun with the Girls I usually have I think is a bargain, I just hope Mr. Warehouse see's it that way.
Maybe later in the year we can have another mini-break to Newquay or somewhere by the sea so Pup can feel the sand between her toes and maybe even as Autumn rolls round we might even be able to squeeze in another trip to Europe for a Christmas Market or even Iceland to see the Northern Lights. Although one step at a time, I think if I was to spell all this out to Mr. Warehouse right now he might have a stroke, and not the good kind.
You see as a new years resolution this year I really want to travel more. Its been a good few years since Vegas and whilst the Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her boyfriend accompanied Miss Tweedle-Dee and her family on a trip back there just before Christmas last year it is something that I am now craving. And why not?! Mr. Warehouse and I have no other commitments other than his (and my adoptive) dog which Miss Tweede-Dee has kindly said she would dog and house sit whilst we were away. I now have a car so am not pressured to start learning anymore. I have a new job with better money so I want to afford the luxuries life has to offer. It is something I have come to realise is all to fragile and can be taken away at any given time without warning or planning.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 22 February 2016
Top 'O Tha Maarning T' Yas!
Hiya,
So after last weeks entry I was very much anticipating my Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour that evening however after a quick snack-a-roo en route to the stop in Dublin's City centre, Mr. Warehouse and I were saddened to hear the woops and roars of what appeared to be not one but two Hen Parties on board our tiny 30-something-seating double-decker bus. Now you guys know me, and after my messy Irish night out on the tiles with Mr. Warehouse I am never far from a party or two, but when your Hen Do is impacting on my ability to enjoy my last night on a romantic Ghost Bus Tour with my boyfriend who is shitting himself even before boarding said bus then we are really going to have a problem here!
Boarding the Bus and getting to know everyone on-board, being the day after Valentine's Day we were all asked who we were and where we came from. In-between dick jokes and more slanderous comments from the obtuse Hen Parties either end of the bus, the rest of us not partaking in the tom-foolery discovered that we had a very international bus load of anxiously scared passengers ranging from Italy, Canada, USA, Finland, Brazil, Germany and not to forget the Brummy and Liverpudlian Hen's - Of course they were from the part of England with the very worst of accents! Wondering if there was any possibility murder or sudden mysterious forces would force the chants and drunken "banter" to stop we commenced what would be an OK tour made worse by such inhabitants. Oh where was the Irish famine and Plague when you needed it!
Returning home that night and packing was nice as I knew in the morning after a glorious breakfast (of which it was) and a mooch around the shops, stopping at Pandora for the umpteenth time this trip we would be heading down to Callan, just outside Kilkenny on the borders of County Kilkenny and Tipperary in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland.
The journey by coach was long, a little over two-hours, but certainly shorter than going back the other way. Stepping out into the cold, wet rain of the tiny village I was waved over to a car that had come to collect Mr. Warehouse and I. Realising it was my Uncle I went to load our things into the car and get out of the rain. Heading along the winding roads I worried at how Mr. Warehouse and my Uncle would get along, especially since before Christmas at their first encounter with each other they had not got off to the best start. But I need not have worried for by the time we arrived at my Aunts Cottage twenty-minutes or so later they were getting on like they had known each other for years.
Settling in I helped with the dinner since my Auntie has never really liked cooking at the best of times, and besides, I had kind of missed it strangely. I suppose that is what eating out for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner does to your mind - Makes you needy for mash and cooking veg! Sitting down to dinner we chatted for hours and days even, continuously loop-talking about life in general and how to make the world a better place, righting all the wrongs back home in England with family, friends and colleagues as well as some important issues like trying to explain to my drunken Aunt and Uncle what a 'Gooch' is and what 'Teabagging' was in a context outside of the arts and crafts world.
The following days were spent mainly out of the area, visiting local points of interest and touring mainland Ireland. First outing was to Waterford, a small town renowned worldwide for its connection to Waterford Crystal alongside a fishing harbour, bordering County Kilkenny and Tipperary. I think I made the poor mistake of choosing a Latte when entering the Lily O'Brien's Chocolate Café. A mistake that right now I am regretting as Mr. Warehouse chose their luxury hot chocolate and after taking a sip I knew my coffee-infused decision, this time at least, was a bad one!
Second outing was one I was not fully committed to in the beginning, I will be honest, but afterwards was totally blown away and so very glad I was made to visit. Cahir Castle had stood in the little village of the same name had been standing there for over eight-hundred-years and as the rain drizzled I entered the courtyards and gardens of the small stone castle I fell in love instantly. In my head it was impossibly easy to imagine hiring the whole thing out for the day to host a wedding, where in my head I was the Princess Bride and Mr. Warehouse was the brave Knight. His dog could be dressed up to look like a gallant steed and I would try to resist putting Mother of the Groom in a Jester outfit. The lawns were perfect for my dream of vintage fair games like coconut shy's, candy-floss machines and hog roasts, whilst the great hall and 18th Century barn conversion would host 'Ye Olde Wedding Ceremony' and reception afterwards. Little rooms and outhouses provided perfect escapes for guests to explore the old ruins and make-believe for a day that we were all Kings and Queens. Upon my way out I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask so collared the guide-lady to ask about holding a wedding there - Obviously not for myself of course!? But alas you shall have to await as the venue does not currently hold a marriage licence yet and is only able to accommodate a blessing so I shall have to wait for my dreamy Irish castle wedding for another day - Well that and a time where I am actually asked to be someone's Bride!
Returning back to the cottage to help with firewood and the landscaping of a few garden areas in order to make way for oil/central heating to be put in (yes the cottage is really that old), Mr. Warehouse and I prepared to go home and back to reality and the following morning bid farewell to my Aunt and Uncles as we made the gruelling ten-hour trip back home to the 'Shire.
Indeed I enjoyed my trip to the Green Isle and back home I am now looking forward to my next adventure with the other half ... Maybe somewhere beach-ier though?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last weeks entry I was very much anticipating my Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour that evening however after a quick snack-a-roo en route to the stop in Dublin's City centre, Mr. Warehouse and I were saddened to hear the woops and roars of what appeared to be not one but two Hen Parties on board our tiny 30-something-seating double-decker bus. Now you guys know me, and after my messy Irish night out on the tiles with Mr. Warehouse I am never far from a party or two, but when your Hen Do is impacting on my ability to enjoy my last night on a romantic Ghost Bus Tour with my boyfriend who is shitting himself even before boarding said bus then we are really going to have a problem here!
Boarding the Bus and getting to know everyone on-board, being the day after Valentine's Day we were all asked who we were and where we came from. In-between dick jokes and more slanderous comments from the obtuse Hen Parties either end of the bus, the rest of us not partaking in the tom-foolery discovered that we had a very international bus load of anxiously scared passengers ranging from Italy, Canada, USA, Finland, Brazil, Germany and not to forget the Brummy and Liverpudlian Hen's - Of course they were from the part of England with the very worst of accents! Wondering if there was any possibility murder or sudden mysterious forces would force the chants and drunken "banter" to stop we commenced what would be an OK tour made worse by such inhabitants. Oh where was the Irish famine and Plague when you needed it!
Returning home that night and packing was nice as I knew in the morning after a glorious breakfast (of which it was) and a mooch around the shops, stopping at Pandora for the umpteenth time this trip we would be heading down to Callan, just outside Kilkenny on the borders of County Kilkenny and Tipperary in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland.
The journey by coach was long, a little over two-hours, but certainly shorter than going back the other way. Stepping out into the cold, wet rain of the tiny village I was waved over to a car that had come to collect Mr. Warehouse and I. Realising it was my Uncle I went to load our things into the car and get out of the rain. Heading along the winding roads I worried at how Mr. Warehouse and my Uncle would get along, especially since before Christmas at their first encounter with each other they had not got off to the best start. But I need not have worried for by the time we arrived at my Aunts Cottage twenty-minutes or so later they were getting on like they had known each other for years.
Settling in I helped with the dinner since my Auntie has never really liked cooking at the best of times, and besides, I had kind of missed it strangely. I suppose that is what eating out for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner does to your mind - Makes you needy for mash and cooking veg! Sitting down to dinner we chatted for hours and days even, continuously loop-talking about life in general and how to make the world a better place, righting all the wrongs back home in England with family, friends and colleagues as well as some important issues like trying to explain to my drunken Aunt and Uncle what a 'Gooch' is and what 'Teabagging' was in a context outside of the arts and crafts world.
The following days were spent mainly out of the area, visiting local points of interest and touring mainland Ireland. First outing was to Waterford, a small town renowned worldwide for its connection to Waterford Crystal alongside a fishing harbour, bordering County Kilkenny and Tipperary. I think I made the poor mistake of choosing a Latte when entering the Lily O'Brien's Chocolate Café. A mistake that right now I am regretting as Mr. Warehouse chose their luxury hot chocolate and after taking a sip I knew my coffee-infused decision, this time at least, was a bad one!
Second outing was one I was not fully committed to in the beginning, I will be honest, but afterwards was totally blown away and so very glad I was made to visit. Cahir Castle had stood in the little village of the same name had been standing there for over eight-hundred-years and as the rain drizzled I entered the courtyards and gardens of the small stone castle I fell in love instantly. In my head it was impossibly easy to imagine hiring the whole thing out for the day to host a wedding, where in my head I was the Princess Bride and Mr. Warehouse was the brave Knight. His dog could be dressed up to look like a gallant steed and I would try to resist putting Mother of the Groom in a Jester outfit. The lawns were perfect for my dream of vintage fair games like coconut shy's, candy-floss machines and hog roasts, whilst the great hall and 18th Century barn conversion would host 'Ye Olde Wedding Ceremony' and reception afterwards. Little rooms and outhouses provided perfect escapes for guests to explore the old ruins and make-believe for a day that we were all Kings and Queens. Upon my way out I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask so collared the guide-lady to ask about holding a wedding there - Obviously not for myself of course!? But alas you shall have to await as the venue does not currently hold a marriage licence yet and is only able to accommodate a blessing so I shall have to wait for my dreamy Irish castle wedding for another day - Well that and a time where I am actually asked to be someone's Bride!
Returning back to the cottage to help with firewood and the landscaping of a few garden areas in order to make way for oil/central heating to be put in (yes the cottage is really that old), Mr. Warehouse and I prepared to go home and back to reality and the following morning bid farewell to my Aunt and Uncles as we made the gruelling ten-hour trip back home to the 'Shire.
Indeed I enjoyed my trip to the Green Isle and back home I am now looking forward to my next adventure with the other half ... Maybe somewhere beach-ier though?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 15 February 2016
Having a Whale of a Time!
Hello there one and all from a strangely sunny Dublin?!
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Now, I say strangely as they don't call it "The Green Isle" for nothing you know and every time I have ever visited it has always been dreary and raining. However my holiday so far with Mr. Warehouse has been brilliant. Obviously last week there was talk of getting my Ta-Ta's out, although I think that was slightly optimistic given the fact that the weather out here is about the same temperature as back home in Blighty, not very warm indeed - ergo, no Ta-Ta's out this holiday!
Lets start from the beginning shall we? So finishing work on Thursday at half day was as blissful as all half days usually are, although this one was manic as I had been up since 6am and had not stopped to sit down until I was either at work, the nail salon or the hairdressers! It was go-go-go from the moment I got up and after finishing my working (half) day it did not stop there as I continued my day collecting medication for Mr. Warehouse, posting parcels, sending letters, buying some last holiday bits, collecting some clothes and packing my case and that was not including the pampering disasters I had on the way. I arrived at the nail salon I went to just before Christmas to get my nails did which incidentally made no difference what-so-ever as they were chipped by the time I finished packing Thursday night in turn putting me in a foul mood to start with. And the foul mood didn't stop when I woke up on Friday morning ready for our afternoon flight from Birmingham International as the hair cut I had the previous day that looked lovely, if a little on the short side, I now discovered that in actual fact I had been given what can only be described as a wonky graduated bob resulting in me loosing more than double what I asked her to trim. Royally fucked off now I had no choice but to don my rat-tail extensions in the hope they looked relatively real. Sipping on a Caramel Latte from my beloved Tassimo I went through the days travel plans to get us to the airport, before getting dressed and ready to leave.
Getting to the airport I thought would not be as faffy as it was, however with a journey time of around three-hours from door to airport check-in I was exhausted already. The slow train was very, very slow and with a connection time of seven-minutes I was anxious to get there in good haste. Sitting in Birmingham International Airport I was excited to be finally a little closer to our holiday away, although regretful slightly that it wasn't somewhere more adventurous on the departure board.
Several hours and an uneventful flight later we touched down in what appeared to be a very grey and overcast Dublin. My hopes were not high and whilst I knew we were not going to be sweltering in forty-degree heat I so wanted Ireland to be the place where Mr. Warehouse fell in love with it as much as I have in my years of coming here. Whizzing through airport security as usual with only a glance at who we all were, Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the exit only to be told that since the bus had to leave on time we would have to wait for the next one which was only an 'Irish' five-minutes away. I say 'Irish' as Irish people seem to be on a different time-scale, something which I am more than accustomed to. An 'Irish' five minutes is more like twenty, very similar to the commonly used phrases 'I am on my way' and 'I just need to do my make-up'.
After waiting around for more than twenty 'Irish' minutes, we had arrived at our final destination, our hotel! Discovering our room was 202 in the heady heights of a five-storey Georgian town-house with no lift access Mr. Warehouse reluctantly grabbed the bags and headed for the stairwell. Our room was tiny, smaller than Mr. Warehouse's bedroom at his mothers house back home it was nicely decorated and was situated only a few moments from the hub of Dublin's City centre including shops, restaurants and tourist-y things! Our first evening in the city we had agreed would be a slow one, so we headed to the Tourist Information and paid upfront for a Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour, which is happening tonight - SO excited!
For dinner we had settled on a teeny-tiny burger joint called BoBos Burgers! Now everyone knows how much I love a good burger and believe me nothing could top my favourite place for burgers - London's Honest Burger! Last years first holiday to Lyon with Mr. Warehouse nearly toppled it with King Marcel, again feeding us on our first night to the French Foodie City! After reading on-line about how good this place was I knew I would have to try it out, and boy am I glad I did. I cannot recall the burger I had but in it was sweet red-onion chutney, a medium-rare Irish beef burger, yummy cheese, and other gorgeous ingredients! I opted for chips as well although after finishing my burger, I could only stomach a few fries. Feeling bad and after passing more than a handful of homeless people on our travels, I got the restaurant to bag them up ready for someone else's dinner tonight. Only a few metres down the street from the restaurant and outside a posh delicatessen, Mr. Warehouse and I spotted a homeless man who appeared to be asking for food and money. I bent down and explained that we were tourists and that after our meal just now we had not been able to eat all our chips (two buckets worth I might say adding up to over seven-euros). They were still warm and as I handed the grubby man the bag he continued to thank us, explaining that we were angels and that this was his dinner tonight. It was freezing out, not much more than one or two degrees so the fries in all fairness were probably nearly cold but for him we had possibly made his day and that is something money cant buy.
Saturday we travelled round on the tourist buses all day, attending the site of the Guinness Factory and walked past the Guinness hospital, set up by the Guinness family for the employees of the factory. The top two conditions doctors would see - Alcohol poisoning and sclerosis of the liver?! Enjoying our bus ride we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our all-Irish night out on the tiles in Dublin. The Temple Bar District of Dublin seemed to be the place to be and after heading into several pubs, having one drink at each we found ourselves at the end of the night in the same bar as we started at with the same Irish musicians as before. Drunk as Irish Husbands we headed for home collecting a McDonald's en-route (which tasted incredible I might add as my burger has crispy fried onions in it was amazing, although that might have been the umpteen ciders I had been drinking that evening) before we hailed a man with a bicycle-took-took to take us the ten minutes back to the hotel.
Waking up yesterday morning, Mr. Warehouse and I felt like the back-end of a Donkey with breath smelling much worse. Happy Valentines Day! Not being able to remember much that wasn't fuzzy or blurred, Dublin had well and truly fucked us in the bum. Hanging, I drank some water and took some paracetamol and got on with it whilst Mr. Warehouse groaned for about twenty minutes and then got over his hangover too. Boarding the bus we headed to Europe's third largest Zoo after London and Paris - Dublin Zoo of course! Walking around we saw babies such as Lion cubs, Elephants and Giraffes as well as their mommies and daddies too. Enjoying every bit of the day we ended it in the gift shop of all places where Mr. Warehouse bought me an adorable cuddly toy Lion - A romantic gesture I have always wanted a lover to buy me from the Zoo, something Mr. Warehouse probably won't know until reading this the sweetheart!
So my holiday so far has been wonderful and very romantic given it Valentines weekend. Walking around Dublin with my other half is lovely but I am also looking forward to the next part of our trip which commences tomorrow, where Mr. Warehouse and I will head down to Southern Ireland near Kilkenny and visit my Aunt and Uncle and their farmyard animals in the thickness of the Irish countryside.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 16 February 2015
L'amour est dans l'air!
Morning everybody,
Much love to one and all this week as Valentines day sent the women into a mushy mess because their four year old made them a card and men into a panicked frenzy at the local petrol station for lack of Chrysanthemum's. Yes I, as I am sure you know by now, am not one for spending an entire day showering others with love. I prefer to give them a little bit every day instead. But that didn't stop me and the Bae, Mr. Warehouse heading to the Big Smoke for some much needed QT!
Arriving at work Friday excited and anticipating the weekend ahead I soon realised that time was dragging. Finally though the clock struck three and with my trusty partner in crime I left my desk (including several piles of papers) and headed to the station. Boarding a packed train we made quiet small talk as we people watched men on laptops and couples clearly heading for the Eurostar. Jealous ... You betcha I was! "One Day" I thought "One Day I will finally go to Paris, even if I do go it alone."
Arriving into St. Pancras International, Mr. Warehouse and I hopped straight for the tubes and over to Soho for some dinner before heading back to our hotel room, for which we weren't holding out much hope. Drizzling and wet, London was lacking the glory and romance I had wished but as we settled after our meal I wasn't quiet ready to slip under the duvet just yet. Pouring with rain Mr. Warehouse and I navigated ourselves back to a bar we had seen earlier, Adventure Bar, and as I wrestled to the bar and ordered some cocktails I knew that this was probably one of the best spontaneous ideas I had ever had! Music coursing through the underground club and bodies everywhere we turned I watched Mr. Warehouse as he sipped his first cocktail called Bramble, a concoction of several spirits, fizzy champagne and soda over slippery glass-like ice cubes. Only being seven-thirty I was surprised it was so busy but was happy with the scene and only wished I had packed a pair of heels and a sexier top. Moments later that mood was somewhat destroyed when Justin Bieber came squeaking over the speakers. Yes, it was time to leave. So as I polished off my second cocktail I slipped the drinking vessel very sneakily into my handbag. Oh how I love a large tote. And oh how I love my new Martini Glass. But as my dearest love put it the other day "If you don't drink Martini's or even cocktails at home for that fact, why have you commandeered one?" Alas he is not the sharpest of tools in the box, but he knows not to question me when it comes to anything of alcoholic content.
Walking through the streets of Soho and Piccadilly I soon made the grave understanding of mine and Mr. Warehouse's journey back to the 'Hotel'. CityMapper explained that the quickest route to our Shepherds Bush accommodation was via the District line alighting at Stamford Brook, a station I am sure you are all well established in the knowledge that this was where the late Mr. Cheese used to live and his fit flatmate also. Nevertheless I tried to control my talk of years gone by and focused on the here and now with my wonderful if a little broke Mr. Warehouse. As Mr. Warehouse and I were informed of our final destination arriving soon we geared ourselves up for disaster.
"So is this the point in which you tell me that in actual fact we have a really nice double bedroom in a posh Chiswick hotel with views of the city" Mr. Warehouse asked, worried. And I wished that was the case. I had booked the room a few days in advance with the total coming to £34.00 for the both of us for one night. Being a twenty-minute walk from any tube line I expected the worst and when I discovered it was more of a studio flat than a hotel room I had booked, all did not seem well.
"At least it will be a giggle when we tell everyone at work?!" I said as we turned into the street. Deep, pungent smells of cannabis filled our throats as we struggled to find number fifty-seven. And as the houses became more tightly packed, gardens less blooming and exteriors ever increasingly daunting the prospect that this was a good idea was fading fast.
We were greeted at the door by a gentleman and shown to our room come studio. We both held hands and took a deep breath as he placed the key in the lock. But as he opened the door we both breathed a sigh of relief as the room, while not the most spacious was certainly large enough for what we needed. A under the counter fridge, kettle (with no tea or coffee) and a microwave complimented the wardrobe and super comfy double bed. A large walk in shower in a newly fitted bathroom inclusive of toilet and a stunning white, square butler sink. I was more than happy to sign away the paperwork and check-in.
Closing the door on the way out we giggled like school children as we bounced on the bed and explored our new surroundings. Feeling like virgins again we took mere minutes to test out the bed, but not before locking that front door - Don't want any more Australians walking on in now do we?!
As morning broke over London and Valentines day began we started our morning as every couple should, and in the best way. Morning Sex! Twice I think in the end. Rolling over though in a heated embrace we discussed our plans for the day and eventually decided on a visit to London Zoo. And after a much needed shower, Mr. Warehouse and I popped out for Breakfast at an old haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's; Carluccios. Taking a leisurely stroll back to the tube and making our way over to the Zoo we took in the sights and scenes of the city and discussed what it would be like to live somewhere such as Fulham and the likes the leafy, laid-back suburbs of London; all with their white picket fences, fancy cars and four storey houses.
No sooner had we arrived through the gates of London Zoo though I was greeted by a small child. Yes. My Valentine, Mr. Warehouse, had turned into an excited six-year-old and all at the sight of a guide book and a cast iron Gorilla. "Today is going to be entertaining" I thought to myself as we joined hands and entered the wondrous world of animals great and small. We scared each other in the creepy crawlies and reptile house. We held hands and pointed in the Monkey enclosures. We even managed to have a cheeky little kiss in the Aquarium. Exhausted and being hoofed out the Zoo at closing time we walked through colourful houses and lanes to Camden where we were due to have a table already booked, ready and waiting for us. Anticipating a quick bite to eat and getting the train back to my cosy flat in Bedford ready for cuddles on the couch just in time Saturday night TV. Alas after more than thirty-minutes and no table reservation we were not happy. Seating a frustrated and tired 'Pooh Bear' (My pet name for Mr. Warehouse. I am his Piglet) I go off to angrily speak to the staff and after a word with management I was able to get our dinner sorted, although this did mean having to share our table with another couple and also it being another forty minute before food actually arrived.
Nevertheless it was a lovely Valentines, so much so Mr. Warehouse and I were even given a blessing by a Black man preaching about god and his holy ways on the way back to Kings Cross through Camden's Alternative scene. Suffice to say that this weekend was heavenly!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Much love to one and all this week as Valentines day sent the women into a mushy mess because their four year old made them a card and men into a panicked frenzy at the local petrol station for lack of Chrysanthemum's. Yes I, as I am sure you know by now, am not one for spending an entire day showering others with love. I prefer to give them a little bit every day instead. But that didn't stop me and the Bae, Mr. Warehouse heading to the Big Smoke for some much needed QT!
Arriving at work Friday excited and anticipating the weekend ahead I soon realised that time was dragging. Finally though the clock struck three and with my trusty partner in crime I left my desk (including several piles of papers) and headed to the station. Boarding a packed train we made quiet small talk as we people watched men on laptops and couples clearly heading for the Eurostar. Jealous ... You betcha I was! "One Day" I thought "One Day I will finally go to Paris, even if I do go it alone."
Arriving into St. Pancras International, Mr. Warehouse and I hopped straight for the tubes and over to Soho for some dinner before heading back to our hotel room, for which we weren't holding out much hope. Drizzling and wet, London was lacking the glory and romance I had wished but as we settled after our meal I wasn't quiet ready to slip under the duvet just yet. Pouring with rain Mr. Warehouse and I navigated ourselves back to a bar we had seen earlier, Adventure Bar, and as I wrestled to the bar and ordered some cocktails I knew that this was probably one of the best spontaneous ideas I had ever had! Music coursing through the underground club and bodies everywhere we turned I watched Mr. Warehouse as he sipped his first cocktail called Bramble, a concoction of several spirits, fizzy champagne and soda over slippery glass-like ice cubes. Only being seven-thirty I was surprised it was so busy but was happy with the scene and only wished I had packed a pair of heels and a sexier top. Moments later that mood was somewhat destroyed when Justin Bieber came squeaking over the speakers. Yes, it was time to leave. So as I polished off my second cocktail I slipped the drinking vessel very sneakily into my handbag. Oh how I love a large tote. And oh how I love my new Martini Glass. But as my dearest love put it the other day "If you don't drink Martini's or even cocktails at home for that fact, why have you commandeered one?" Alas he is not the sharpest of tools in the box, but he knows not to question me when it comes to anything of alcoholic content.
Walking through the streets of Soho and Piccadilly I soon made the grave understanding of mine and Mr. Warehouse's journey back to the 'Hotel'. CityMapper explained that the quickest route to our Shepherds Bush accommodation was via the District line alighting at Stamford Brook, a station I am sure you are all well established in the knowledge that this was where the late Mr. Cheese used to live and his fit flatmate also. Nevertheless I tried to control my talk of years gone by and focused on the here and now with my wonderful if a little broke Mr. Warehouse. As Mr. Warehouse and I were informed of our final destination arriving soon we geared ourselves up for disaster.
"So is this the point in which you tell me that in actual fact we have a really nice double bedroom in a posh Chiswick hotel with views of the city" Mr. Warehouse asked, worried. And I wished that was the case. I had booked the room a few days in advance with the total coming to £34.00 for the both of us for one night. Being a twenty-minute walk from any tube line I expected the worst and when I discovered it was more of a studio flat than a hotel room I had booked, all did not seem well.
"At least it will be a giggle when we tell everyone at work?!" I said as we turned into the street. Deep, pungent smells of cannabis filled our throats as we struggled to find number fifty-seven. And as the houses became more tightly packed, gardens less blooming and exteriors ever increasingly daunting the prospect that this was a good idea was fading fast.
We were greeted at the door by a gentleman and shown to our room come studio. We both held hands and took a deep breath as he placed the key in the lock. But as he opened the door we both breathed a sigh of relief as the room, while not the most spacious was certainly large enough for what we needed. A under the counter fridge, kettle (with no tea or coffee) and a microwave complimented the wardrobe and super comfy double bed. A large walk in shower in a newly fitted bathroom inclusive of toilet and a stunning white, square butler sink. I was more than happy to sign away the paperwork and check-in.
Closing the door on the way out we giggled like school children as we bounced on the bed and explored our new surroundings. Feeling like virgins again we took mere minutes to test out the bed, but not before locking that front door - Don't want any more Australians walking on in now do we?!
As morning broke over London and Valentines day began we started our morning as every couple should, and in the best way. Morning Sex! Twice I think in the end. Rolling over though in a heated embrace we discussed our plans for the day and eventually decided on a visit to London Zoo. And after a much needed shower, Mr. Warehouse and I popped out for Breakfast at an old haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's; Carluccios. Taking a leisurely stroll back to the tube and making our way over to the Zoo we took in the sights and scenes of the city and discussed what it would be like to live somewhere such as Fulham and the likes the leafy, laid-back suburbs of London; all with their white picket fences, fancy cars and four storey houses.
No sooner had we arrived through the gates of London Zoo though I was greeted by a small child. Yes. My Valentine, Mr. Warehouse, had turned into an excited six-year-old and all at the sight of a guide book and a cast iron Gorilla. "Today is going to be entertaining" I thought to myself as we joined hands and entered the wondrous world of animals great and small. We scared each other in the creepy crawlies and reptile house. We held hands and pointed in the Monkey enclosures. We even managed to have a cheeky little kiss in the Aquarium. Exhausted and being hoofed out the Zoo at closing time we walked through colourful houses and lanes to Camden where we were due to have a table already booked, ready and waiting for us. Anticipating a quick bite to eat and getting the train back to my cosy flat in Bedford ready for cuddles on the couch just in time Saturday night TV. Alas after more than thirty-minutes and no table reservation we were not happy. Seating a frustrated and tired 'Pooh Bear' (My pet name for Mr. Warehouse. I am his Piglet) I go off to angrily speak to the staff and after a word with management I was able to get our dinner sorted, although this did mean having to share our table with another couple and also it being another forty minute before food actually arrived.
Nevertheless it was a lovely Valentines, so much so Mr. Warehouse and I were even given a blessing by a Black man preaching about god and his holy ways on the way back to Kings Cross through Camden's Alternative scene. Suffice to say that this weekend was heavenly!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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